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What if he's right? What if she hates me? What if she's mad at me for not talking to her all these years? Or worse, what if she doesn't remember me at all? Maybe she left and never gave me a second thought. After all, I never got to read the last letter she wrote to me. Perhaps she told me she never wanted to see me again. I can't worry about that right now because the reason I came back was to find her.
The last time we met, I was nothing. I had nothing. I wasn't worthy of her love, but this time I'm going to do everything in my power to prove my worth. Prove that I can give her everything she wants. Prove that I'm not just some boy from the wrong side of the tracks. I'm going to show her that I'm worthy of her love.
Shortly afterwards, we arrive at work. I make my way to John, who gives me the briefing, explains what the job entails, and then sends me off. After a while, I feel my stomach start to growl as I see Gabriel coming towards me with a takeaway bag.
"Nate, I'm sorry, okay? Let's not fight. It's been so long since I've seen you. I don't want to ruin our first week back together." He apologizes, ruffling my hair like he used to do when we were kids." You know how hard it was for me when we left here, and you know it's her family's fault. I took care of us, Nate. We didn't need a social worker sticking her nose into our family. I had you, and you had me. Isabella ruined that."
I let out a low growl of disappointment and frustration as I give him a flash of my famous death stare before walking away.
"A peace offering?" he says, holding the bag out to me and stopping me in my tracks. "I got your favorites: burgers, fries, and I even remembered the chocolate milkshake."
"Fine, just be glad I'm really fucking hungry," I retort, snatching the bag from his outstretched hand. I walk away to eat in peace.
***
ISABELLA
Approaching the long driveway and stopping in front of Nana and Pop's house feels surreal. Somehow it still looks exactly as I remember it, but at the same time, it doesn't. Nana's once perfect lawn is now looking old and disheveled. The gorgeous, ever blooming roses have started to wilt, and even the house itself looks tired and worn. I put my bags down on the porch and rush into the house.
"Nana, Pops, I'm home," I call out, running through the door.
"We're in here, honey," I hear from the dining room.
My heart begins beating faster. Tears threaten to fall at the thought of being back home with those I love again. I run inside and see a big sign that says,Welcome Home!My grandparents, aunts and uncles, and a couple of tall men who kind of look like the scrawny, teenage cousins I left behind are standing around, smiling at me. I run up to Nana and Pops, unable to hold back my emotions any longer, hugging them tightly as tears of joy run down my face.
"I missed you all so much," I cry, squeezing them tightly to make sure I'm not dreaming before letting go of them. I head off to greet the rest of my waiting family.
I go and speak to my cousins, who are now grown men with beards. I almost can’t believe it. Especially when Toby, who is now twenty-three, informs me he’s engaged and introduces me to his beautiful fiancée. Even Michael, the youngest of the three brothers, is now in school studying to be a lawyer. I look over at my parents, assuming they’re equally as excited to reminisce with our long-lost family members. My mom is in the kitchen talking to my aunt Shelly.
"Izzy, come here," my mother beckons as she sees me walking past.
"Wow! I can’t believe how tall you've gotten; you were only this big when I saw you last," my aunt coos, motioning her hand in front of her.
Why is it that whenever someone remembers you, no matter whether it's been one year or ten, you always seem to have been waist high?
I stand talking to my mom and aunt, listening as they reminisce about the good old days. To my disappointment, though, the whole time we've all been inside talking, my dad has been outside pacing on the phone. On yet another of his never-ending conference calls. Pops walks into the room, and having noticed where I'm looking, gives my shoulders a little squeeze.I can't believe it, even on an occasion like this, all he cares about is business.Feeling my pulse quicken in frustration but not wanting to ruin the mood, I simply roll my eyes. Turning back to Pops, I offer him a smile, the fake smile I've perfected over the years, to hide my true feelings.
"If I had known it would only take one little heart attack to get you all home, I'd have had it years ago," jokes Pops.
"A little heart attack!" Nana exclaims. "You've been in the hospital for four days, George. You shouldn't joke about things like that," scolds Nana.
"Oops, looks like you're in trouble, Pops." I chuckle as he looks at me with his best guilty puppy eyes.
"Hurry up and take your things to your old bedroom and come back quickly," Nana says.
"I'm not allowed to cut the cake until you get back and see how much work she put into decorating it herself," Pops adds, as he pouts like a child.
"Oh no, I'll make sure to hurry, Pops; this is a matter of life and death. Get me ten CCs of cake, stat!" I say, in my best Grey's Anatomy inspired voice. "I'm confident this double chocolate cake is just what the doctor ordered," I joke, feigning concern.
I rush up the stairs, fling the door open, and am greeted by my old bedroom, looking exactly as I left it. My favorite boy band posters are still on the walls. My mom's old dollhouse is still on the dressing table. Even all my old stuffed animals are there, lying proudly on the bed.I need to ask Nana and Pops if they’re okay with me changing this as soon as possible.Because no self-respecting seventeen-year-old wants to sleep in a bed withOne Directionbedding. Even so, I can't help but smile as the memories flood back about the times I spent here. The hours Nana and I would play make believe with that same doll's house.
I open my suitcase and begin unpacking, opening the small set of drawers. I begin placing my underwear, socks, and swimwear inside.Not that I'll need much swimwear here.
Next, I begin removing my clothes, spotting the long and elegant dresses my mother made me pack. My body tenses, and the feeling of unease washes over me at the memories those dresses hold. Those dresses represent everything I’ve despised over the last few years. Stuffy parties and fancy dinners where I was forced to put on a fake smile even though my heart was broken and lonely. All I wanted was someone to look at me and truly see the person I am. I throw them on the bed, ready to hide them in my wardrobe later.I refuse to allow these stupid pieces of fabric to still have a hold on. Continuing, I take out the newer clothes I bought on my last shopping trip. Simple t-shirts, jeans, sneakers, and a few casual outfits. Ones that make me look and feel more like my true self rather than a doll, purely there to look pretty.
I remove my picture frames and ornaments that I wrapped inside a beach towel and place them around my new room. Then I unwrap my art supplies.I wonder where I can get a decent easel in this town.I line all my supplies up and place them beside my windowsill. Hopefully the views, especially in the evening when the sun shines just right, will inspire me.
I have little in common with either of my parents. At least my creativity is something I know I inherited from my mother. Without that, I would be convinced I was adopted. Scrap that I know for sure they would never have chosen to adopt me. My dad has openly said for most of my life that he never intended to have children.Way to traumatize and alienate your only daughter.
