3. Felicity
felicity
“Something smells delicious.” I smile as I enter our small kitchen—the same one with red walls and honey-colored cabinets that greeted me every day of my childhood.
“Making some banana pancakes.” My dad grins over his shoulder at me, and my heart squeezes in my chest at the nostalgia that overwhelms me. “Just for my girl.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” I walk up to him, welcoming the side hug before turning to see my mom at the table, reading her morning paper like always. “What’s on the agenda today?”
“Oh, your dad has some work to do, and I need to head to the school to prep my classroom for the year.” Dad works in construction with his old friend, Henry Blake.
He’s worked with him since I could remember without ever complaining or trying to own his own company like so many in construction often do.
Henry is a good friend of the family, and I remember going to school with his son, Warren, who was in my grade growing up.
Mom is a schoolteacher at the local middle school and helps out outside of her teaching any way she can. She is a staple in our little town. People will flock to her for her help whenever there are events or crises going on.
When my career took off, I offered numerous times to pay off their house, to buy them a new one, or to get this one renovated. I even offered to take care of their expenses so they could both retire. But they didn’t hear any of that. They wouldn’t take a single dime from me.
I did manage to get them to go on a few vacations, only if I went with them, and those were memories I would cherish for a long time.
“Do you want help?”
Mom eyes me over her paper. “You want to help me prep my room?”
I understand her confusion because there was one thing I never wanted to do, and it was to be in a classroom unless it was absolutely necessary for me to do so.
Well, mostly. I remember many days when I painstakingly did my hair and makeup, took way too long to pick an outfit, and reveled in the smile Jax Cash would give me the moment he laid eyes on me in those hallways.
“Yeah, why not?”
“I used to have to drag you in to help me. Also…” Mom lays her paper down, her eyes meeting my dad’s before coming back to me. “It may be a be…chaotic for you to be seen in town.”
“Oh, come on.” I wave my hand, wishing I could have some of that coffee that’s smell is wafting my way. I need to look up the rules on that, but I am pretty sure it is a major no-no. “No one cares who I am here.”
“Oh, they care,” Dad says, chuckling to himself. “They have a whole ‘Felicity Vogel Day’ at school every year, where everyone dresses up as you, and they blast your songs in between periods.”
I gape at my father, turning my head to look at Mom for confirmation. She nods. “It’s true.” She lets loose a chuckle. “I become the most popular teacher those days when everyone takes pictures with me.” Her eyes sparkle in amusement. “It’s quite a hoot.”
“I can’t believe this,” I say, shaking my head. “How come you never told me?”
Mom waves her hand at me. “Oh honey, you have more things to worry about than some school tradition.”
My stomach rolls slightly, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. Not just because of my current predicament, but because I feel like I know nothing about my own hometown—about my parents, their friends, and their traditions that I’m no longer a part of.
It reaffirms everything I thought about coming home. It was the right move.
Is the right move.
“Well.” I clear my throat as Dad sets a larger than I could ever eat stack of pancakes in front of me. “I think it’s just what I need. To help you, to be around some familiar stuff.”
For a moment, my parents are quiet. It’s not until my second bite that I look up, wondering why they suddenly aren’t talking, and see them staring at me with concern.
“What?” I ask, taking a napkin out of the holder in the middle that’s been there since I was ten, with the light blue swans on the sides, and wipe my mouth.
“We’re just…concerned,” Dad says, taking a seat and leaning on one of his hands. “You came home out of the blue—and we love that you’re here!” he reassures quickly.
“Absolutely adore having you home, honey!” Mom chimes in, overly enthusiastic.
“But we’re just unsure on why you came home. Are you in trouble?”
“No.” Not really. “I just…” I pause, my eyes tracing over the grains of the table and try to think about how to put this without giving everything away.
I’m not ready to share my news, despite how thrilled I’m sure they will be.
It is just too much too soon. “I need a break. Hollywood is incredibly draining, and I can’t take that lifestyle anymore. ”
“So…” Mom starts, looking at my dad and back to me, her coffee and paper abandoned for this talk. Something I love about both my parents is their attentiveness when you need to talk. No distractions. “You need a break? Or you are done with Hollywood?”
I purse my lips, realizing what I said now. I didn’t even realize how I worded it, but, knowing that’s the way I’ve vented to my parents tells me something I just wasn’t quite sure I was ready to admit to myself. “I need a break…for now.” I lift my head and look at them. “But I may be done.”
Both of my parents take this news seriously, frowning and sitting back in their chairs. “Are you sure, honey? You’ve worked yourself tirelessly to be what you are.”
“I know. Believe me, I know,” I rush to say, wishing I could just eat my pancakes and pretend I was thirteen again and my worst problem was a major crush on the boy who sat next to me in class.
“It’s too much. It’s grueling. And I’m not even able to really write the music I want to. It’s all become so…”
“Generic.” My dad fills in, getting a slap from my mom. “Gerald!”
“No, Mom. He’s right.” I nod my head, hating the truth of it, but it’s become bland. Made for market. Horrible.
“Well.” She side-eyes my dad. “Still. Don’t say that about your daughter’s work.”
“I’m sorry, honey.”
I sigh, hating that my pancakes are cold, but judging by the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach, it is probably a good thing.
“I was hardly doing any of the writing on my last album. I had to learn the songs because I wrote only two, and even those got redone so much. They didn’t hardly resemble anything I started with. ”
“Okay.” Mom starts, rolling her shoulders back and looking me in the eye.
Her planning-an-attack face is on and almost makes me smile.
“You’ll stay here then, in town. For as long as you need.
Your dad and I are more than happy to have you, and the town will be thrilled, but probably a bit much at first. Then, in a few weeks, once you’ve had a nice break, we’ll talk career. ”
I was thirty years old. And my mama was about to make me cry.
“Thanks, Mom.”
The local school houses both the middle schoolers and high schoolers, given how small our town is.
The big brown building is the same as it has always been, with maybe some improvements to the paint. The outside of the building has nice landscaping, and whoever keeps up with it does a nice job, but the moment I step into the halls, it is like a time warp has happened.
The lockers are the same colors, the hallway floors have the same markings, and the walls are the same colors. And maybe it sounds weird, but it still smells the same.
It is strange following my mom down the empty hallways, my leggings and oversized shirt on and my long blonde hair thrown up in a bun. It is like jumping back fourteen years when I used to come here and help her every summer, right before school started.
I look at some of the posters on the walls and smile when I see one I did when I was seventeen. It is lyrics I wrote on a bright pink poster board with stars all around it.
“I insisted they keep it up,” Mom says, smiling when she sees I’ve stopped. “It’s nice to have a little piece of you with me every day.”
I blink back the burning in my eyes, smiling over at my mom before we move down the hall.
“Here we are!” Mom says, grasping the handle of the classroom I knew all too well and moving into the room.
Taking a deep breath, I move into it behind her, memories dowsing me with every step—coming in early to see Mom, helping her set up certain classroom activities, and sneaking into this classroom after prom with Jax.
I blink at that memory, hoping to erase it from my mind and take in the blank room. “Why did you take everything down before summer?”
Mom shrugs and looks around the room. “I don’t know. I guess I like having a blank slate when I get here. Plus, they could always move me or fire me.”
I give her a bland look, smiling when she waves her hand at me. “I highly doubt they would ever get rid of you. It’s not like you’ve had this same classroom for what, twenty years?”
“Twenty-two.”
I laugh. “Exactly.”
For the next few hours, I help my mom hang up every poster, organize all her supplies, and get her ready for the year. We chat as we work, and I try to keep everything surface level, talking about memories and how she’s been doing for the last twelve years since I’ve lived away from home.
I missed home so much that each second I’m here, I feel myself moving right back into the routine. I absolutely love everything about this town—the smells, the people, the businesses, and the way everyone helps each other as if we are one big happy family.
Being in a town that is quite literally the opposite, where everyone only wants to be your friend if you have something to offer them, is not something that I was ever really comfortable with.
It was something that I had to get used to, but honestly, I never really did.
I was starting to feel like the more time I spent away from there, the less I was ever going to want to go back.
“So what do you plan to do while you’re home?” Mom asks. I’m sure she’s been dying to, and I take a deep breath before I answer.
“I think I might write—if the mood strikes.” Honestly, it’s been damn near impossible to find inspiration and want to write these days. But I could try.
“What else?”
Mom was bent over her filing cabinet organizing paperwork, and I let myself sit on one of the desk chairs, looking around the room and feeling alive for the first time in months. “Just live, Mama. I just want to live normally for a little while.”
Mom stops what she’s doing, looking over her shoulder and smiling at me with a wink. “That sounds good, baby.”