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IKE, AKA MERGING DREAMS WITH REALITY
Relief wraps aroundme as soon as I step into my childhood home. Familiar scents tickle my nostrils from the peach air freshener to my ma’s comfort food baking in the oven.
I squeeze Oana’s hand, needing her to remain real now that I’m back home. Everything I’m building with my dream girl has gotten tangled up in the temporary nature of the hotel. Now, Oana stands in the house I’ve called home for my entire life.
My parents are simple people who don’t like fancy shit. Our home is country comfortable. The family room is open with plenty of seating. A large TV hangs from the wall. The kitchen is open concept with butcher block countertops, a wide kitchen island, and a sink overlooking a window.
I suspect Oana senses the importance of this moment because her blue eyes brighten as she looks around.
“You have a beautiful house,” Oana says in that overly sincere way she has when she’s nervous.
“Thank you,” Ma-Journey replies in that overly edgy way she has when she’s nervous.
Trying to break through the awkwardness, Pa-Donovan announces, “Dinner smells ready.”
My ma and Edith walk to the oven, where they whisper to each other. Meanwhile, Oana gets laser-focused on the pictures along the hallway wall.
“After dinner,” I say, pressing my lips to her ear, “I’ll show you those pictures and my room. We’ll also take a walk around the homestead. By the time we head back to the hotel, you’ll understand a bit more about my life.”
Oana smiles at me before noticing my family staring at us.
“How long are you planning to stay at the hotel?” Ma-Journey demands.
“I have the money to pay.”
“Well, duh. You’re not exactly blowing it on your wardrobe.”
I glance down at my ratty T-shirt. Shrugging, I refuse to walk down this conversational path again. My ma wants to buy me new stuff, but I don’t need anything. Even as a kid, I only wanted to wear three shirts and two pairs of pants. My other clothes remained untouched.
“I like comfort,” I explain to Oana rather than explain to my ma again.
While setting the table, Edith asks, “What’s so comfortable about the hotel?”
“Nothing, but I can’t move Oana into my room.”
“I thought Otto’s house was the plan,” Pa-Donovan asks. “Is that not the plan?”
I like when my pa pretends to be confused to make a point about people changing their stories. I grin at his tactic and shrug.
“Thatwasthe plan, but Oana needs to feel safe in her environment.”
Edith narrows her eyes at Oana who waves at her. My sister exhales hard and shakes her head.
“She’ll be fine here. Just move back now.”
“I already paid for the night.”
My parents share an annoyed glance. I know I’m prolonging the inevitable. Moving into Otto’s house feels like a solid plan. My parents are clearly attempting to be warm toward Oana. Though I’ve got my ducks in a row, I still act like I might not return.
Huh, maybe I’m not averse to stirring up drama, after all.
“Let’s see how tonight goes,” I say when my family keeps eyeballing me. “There’s no rush.”
