The key to the house is a perfect fit, small and unassuming. I tum the knob, and it’s as if I stepped back one hundred years in time. Exposed wooden beans with a sloping relling very charming, except it smells of an old female woll.
I open a window, and the warm wind blows in the scent of deep summer, the breeze moving my longhair, rickling my skin. The walls must be thick to keep the temperate cool. The door opens up to the living room. Hagstone for flooring is cool underneath my feet once my sandals are kicked off.
I feel like an explorer would, taking in all the nooks and crannies of the place, my place now. Empty jars line the open cupboards of the kitchen; she must have loved to can things. Recipe books litter the bookcase, along with her mwn handwritten books that midwives keep
The place is clean and tidy. I notice there is no television, only books that probably took up the majority of her nighttime entertainment. The furniture is net evercrowding. A cody couch, an end table, and a La–Z–Boy chair. It’s the kitchen table that catches my eye. Long and slick, cut from the trunk of a tree that has been sanded and stained. It takes upmost of the room, so thick probably many male wolves were used to move it in here. Running my hand along the entire surface, it’s smooth against my fingertips. I can picture the late night parties I could hold here if things were different.
Starting to work, opening up all the windows, air it out so it will start to smell of me. Like I belong here now. An old stove sits in the corner of the room, galvanized steel, made a century ago that needs to be fed with wood to cook on. I welcome the challenge, my mentor taught me on her own stove, so this shouldn’t be much of a problem.
I open up the fridge. Nothing is
Is this what it’s like to be a spinster well at twenty–two? All I need are the cats to come around and make my home theirs. I o in there. Opening up the cupboards, I find they are barren have to do a giant grocery trip to stock everything I need
The bed is in a tiny room, and the mattress has the plastic still on it, never been used, which I am thankful for. Linens line the closet, which I put in the washer that’s in the bathroom. Cleaning supplies are in the hall closet, along with washing detergent.
I’m wiping my hands on my shorts when I hear the knock. I open the door. His back faces me while he looks at the lake.
“Dad?” He as to face me at the sound of his name.
“Your mother sent me with some food. She knew you didn’t have anything here to eat. He’s holding the bags out in front of him, as if to show me this is why be actually came
Stepping inside, he sets the bag on the table and takes a seat, looking around.
I’m not sure what to say to him, I think he feels the same way. My chest hurts from the tightness built up inside, and I let out a forceful breath through barely parted lips.
Rya, I’m sorry that I couldn’t have taken those lashes for you. I’ve failed you as a father, as your protector.” In this moment, my father looks so much older than he is. His head hangs down in his own quilt. All these years, I thought it was my shame that caused him so much hurt. It was his own shame of how he could not protect me better that caused the divide between us.
His hands go to his face, and he cries softly into them. His shoulders are shalding slightly–this is the first time I have ever seen him cry. My throat squeezes shut, burning light with how utterly weak my father looks at this moment. My strong father that used to carry me around on his shoulders now looks like a broken old male. I feel as if it’s my turn to carry him on my strong shoulders. Not only did this rejection affect me, it has affected my whole family. We have all been poisoned.
“Dad.” My hand goes to his back, rubbing softly.
*I’m okay, Dad,” I lie. It’s the best lie I have ever told ever.
