“You know you aren’t alone,” Caine says, walking toward me after setting his small travel bag on the desk in the corner of the room.
I look around the space. It’s like every other hotel I’ve stayed at. Other than the ridiculous plane, Caine is back to being his normal, down-to-Earth self. Ineed him to just be normal. The flashy plane only amplified my already out-of-control anxieties. I know Caine loves me. I fully believe we are in a good place in our relationship, be it a little fast. But it just intimidates me.
“You may meet her,” I point out worriedly. And that’s just one more thing that has me on edge.
“And I’m not worried. Come here,” Caine says, taking my hands and shaking out my arms. “Breathe, sweetheart, just breathe.”
He doesn’t tell me to calm down or relax. I might smack him if he did. I wouldn’t really, but I can’t stand it when people tell me to calm down like I don’t have a logical reason for feeling the way I do.
“Let’s just get the truck and get this over with,” I suggest, resigned that this day will just suck.
Jack walks in front of me, unlocking the door to our childhood home. The familiar scent of my youth welcomes me. It’s a mix of the fruity scent of our house cleaner and the sweet smell of vanilla. It’s always smelled like this. I don’t know how, but it’s home.
Has it really been over five months since I’ve been here? I wonder as I look around the house. No sign of my mother. Small favors!
“I’m gonna check out my room, but I’m pretty sure I took everything when I moved out,” Jack says as we walk up the stairs. He goes left and I go right.
“This is where you grew up,” Caine whispers.
I turn around to see him looking at the pictures that line the hallway wall. On one side are caricatures of Jack and I when we went to San Francisco when we were little. The artist drew one of me and my dad on a tandem bicycle. We hadn’t ridden on one in the city, but my dad must have mentioned it to the artist.
The others are individual pieces. Jack as a teenager surfing, my mom holding shopping bags in Union Square, and one of me with a thoughtful look, and a book open in front of me sitting on a blanket in Golden Gate Park.
My dad’s picture is of him flying a kite, which is also something we did while we visited San Francisco.
Along the other wall are photographs of the family. School pictures, me standing beside Jack at his graduation. Another with my dad and Jack.
“You look like your father,” Caine says as he looks at the picture. My mouth drops open when I see him remove several of them from the wall, tucking them under his arm. “Let’s get your room done.”
Caine has to push me toward the door to shake me out of the initial shock. I wantedthem but didn’t have the guts to take them.
“Suitcases?” Caine asks.
I point to the closet. “I put them on the top rack,” I explain.
Once we have everything open and ready, Caine and I work fast, folding and piling the cases up with the clothes I have left. It’s quite a bit. I actually hadn’t taken as much as I thought.
“You don’t need the furniture,” he tells me as I stare at my old room. “But do you want any of the blankets?”
A feeling of sadness washes over me. This is the last time I’ll see this room, look out this window to see Lake Washington.
“No, I’m good,” I say, zipping up one of my bags.
Caine collected all my photographs and picture frames, packing them up between my clothes to keep them safe from damage.
My bathroom is devoid of all my things. My bedroom closet and drawers are now bare. It’s a strange feeling, knowing I’ll never be back here again.
The sound of a door slamming shakes me out of my pity party. I turn and see Caine clench his jaw. We know who it is. We had just hoped we would be able to avoid her.
“I got your luggage, sweetheart,” Caine says as he kisses my brow. “I’m here. I won’t let her hurt you.”
I nod my head. I want to believe him. I know he’ll try. But my mother’s vitriol cuts like a knife even he can’t protect me from.
Jack stands at the door, a single large duffel bag in his hand. “You done?” he asks softly.
The look of unease on his face is all I need to see to know he doesn’t want to be here any longer than I do.
“I’m done,” I say, nodding to Caine, who also has some of my luggage.
