Chapter 15
Play Stuck with Me by The Neighbourhood
Dad comes home tomorrow, but today is the start of the annual fall festival Melrose holds.
The first weekend of every September everyone gathers at the largest park in town.
Vendors file in between the trees, live music plays, and the town hall holds a raffle of some sort.
Mom and I had made sure everything was ready for his return this morning to allow us to go.
When I was a little girl, the festival used to be my favorite time of the year.
I could shove my face full of warm apple cider and various pumpkin flavored goodies.
Mom had always enjoyed the live music, pulling me out onto the dance floor and swinging me around.
Even dad seemed to always be more joyful on these days.
It was like stepping into an alternate universe.
I tug my burnt orange sweater over my head.
The cable knit feels fuzzy against my arms and I rejoice in the feeling.
I finish up by sliding on some jeans and a pair of brown boots.
They have a slight heel to them, and they pull my outfit together so well.
I glance in the floor length mirror, twisting myself to the side to see how the clothes fit me.
Once satisfied, I give myself a bright smile. “Today is going to be a good day.”
I skip down the hall to find mom in the living room.
She has on a long, dull red, skirt with a ruffled white top.
Her hair is pulled up into a bun, showing off her beautiful cheek bones.
I can’t help but stare in awe. The sunlight creeps in through the blinds, highlighting the blonder spots in her hair, giving her an almost halo-like effect.
My lip tugs upwards as I watch her.
“What’s got you smiling?”
“I’m just happy to be home.”
She gives me a light chuckle, reaching out to take my hand. Arm in arm, we walk out the door. The weather has finally begun to ease up, settling over us with a cool breeze. Our steps bounce against the gravel outside, filling the quiet morning with footsteps of excitement.
We pile into her car and I rest my head back on the seat.
A quiet tune sneaks out of the speakers, making me feel at ease.
The drive there goes by fairly quick. Mom talks up a storm about all the treats she plans to bring home, and she doesn’t fail to mention how excited she is for dad to try them tomorrow. I smile and chat along with her.
We pull up the park, fighting to find a parking spot. This town might be small, but the community has always been strong. There's an event? You can expect ninety percent of the population to be there.
“There’s a spot!” I call out, pointing to the right of us. Mom slams on her brakes and the car behind us blares their horn.
“Sorry!” Mom laughs out as she waves to them. Her dainty fingers wrap around the peeling leather of the steering wheel, turning it to make the car fit in the spot.
“Good job, mom.” I tease.
She attempts to give me a stern look but almost immediately breaks, spitting out another bout of laughter. “If you don’t like my driving, you’re more than welcome to take over.”
I raise my hands as though they’re a white flag. “I won’t say another word.”
We step out of the car, walking down the block to cross at the crossing walk. An older gentleman stands with us as we wait for the light to turn. He’s dressed so properly, with a nice tie and a matching flat cap.
“Are you two lovely ladies headed to the festival?” He asks, intertwining his frail hands in front of him. His Irish accent sneaks up on his words, but is unable to stay hidden.
“We are!” I beam.
“Well, I hope you both have a wonderful time. And while you’re there,” he starts off as he shifts his weight, “you should check out my shop!”
My heart swells with how proud he looks. “Absolutely! What do you sell?”
“Little trinkets, mainly. I carve wood. So we’ll have keychains, shelf decor, and well.. the works.”
“You’ll see us there!”
He gives us a happy nod, almost surprised that it worked. The three of us cross as the light switches to red.
The first stop is, of course, cider. The warm Styrofoam cups are placed into Mom and I’s hands.
Steam steadily rises from the small sipping hole.
As it dissipates in front of me, I close my eyes, breathing in with delight.
The mellow tune of an acoustic guitar flows through the air. Everything feels just right.
“Want to go check out the band?” Mom asks.
I give her a nod and follow behind as we make our way through the park. I keep my eyes peeled for the sight of the older man, and feel myself get bummed out as I come up empty handed. I’ll have to check the other side once we’re done here.
Mom pulls me to her side and together we watch the man on stage. He sits on a stool, with a stained black instrument in hand. As he strums the cord, his body sways with the melody. It’s as if he’s lost himself to his performance. My heart flutters as he, at long last, begins to sing.
Play Home by Cavetown
The words tumble from him with melancholy. They demand attention, and it seems everyone in the crowd has picked up on the same vibe. We all stand there, some swaying, some holding their hands to their chest, and we listen. Soaking up the words as though they’re a gift.
After a few moments, a handful of couples take to the wooden makeshift dancefloor, holding each other in loving embraces as they begin to dance. They all stay in sync, slowly twirling around.
Knowing how much mom loves to dance, I turn to ask her to join me.
Yet what I find is an empty space where she had just been standing.
Other bodies crowd around me as I attempt to find her.
I slowly push my way through until I’m standing at the back of the crowd.
First, I search to my left. There I find two beautiful little girls dancing together.
Their parents watch them with the brightest of smiles.
A pang of excitement shoots through me, as I imagine myself in their shoes.
The future has begun to look so bright, and somewhere in the mix will be my own daughter.
One I know I’ll love endlessly. Her non-stop giggles and silly games will consume my entire world while she’s young.
And just like my own mother, I know her happiness will be infectious.
I stare for a few moments longer, smiling as the father kisses the woman’s forehead.
Then I turn my attention to the right. Almost instantly I catch a glimpse of Mom’s red skirt.
I strain my neck to look over a small group of teens who all huddled around one another, and the sight before me knocks the wind out of me.
Mom stands there, gripping on to a tattooed pair of arms. Pain is etched all over her face as she speaks to him. I’m too far away to gather what she’s saying, but I know in my heart it’s nothing good. Saint stands in front of her, occasionally nodding at whatever words are coming from her mouth.
My heart aches at the sight of him, the breaths my lungs crave come in short. As if he can sense my presence, he turns to me. His piercing blue eyes are so full of sorrow. Even with the distance between us, I can see the exhaustion that appears on him.
Mom looks over then too, rewarding me with a sad smile. She rubs her arms up and down Saint’s one last time before turning away.
My heart hammers against my rib cage as the two of us stand off.
Neither moves, neither dares to look away.
I release a shaky breath as I weigh my options.
Everything in me is screaming to turn the other way.
That I should run and never look back. That all he can do is hurt me.
But the pain that prospers in my chest begs for him.
It pleads with me to go and find safety in his arms.
I tear off a layer of skin from my lip as I balance my choices on a metaphorical scale. Saint’s facial features scrunch together, his anguish on full display.
“Please.” Although I can’t hear him from this far away, I’m able to make out the movement. It hammers against my safe guard, sending it crashing down around me. I nod my head, and he begins to stride towards me.
The closer he gets, the more disheveled he looks. His hands shake with unease and I don’t miss the clench in his jaw.
With another few long steps, he stands in front of me.
“Nova,” he breathes out.
I melt.
My hands wrap around him and I bury my face into his chest. The familiar feeling of his body against mine feels like coming home.
“Will you dance with me?” He asks gently. As I turn my head up to look at him, he pushes my hair behind my ear.
We stay at the back of the crowd as Saint begins to move our bodies to the rhythm.
We step in a slow circular motion and I don’t dare to raise my head or ask questions.
I bask in his touch, knowing this can only end with me being pulled apart.
He has had my heart on the operating table ever since that first night at his apartment.
It has been his to do as he pleases with.
I shouldn’t have trusted him with something so fragile.
Even as these thoughts grow louder in my mind, I can’t seem to let go.
The memories of our childhood call out to me, and somewhere deep down I know that little boy is still there.
He had gotten lost somewhere along the way to where we are now.
But what did my mom say? Benefit of the doubt, right? Maybe that’s what Saint needs from me.
For once in his life, he deserves to be my priority. Growing up it had always been about me. What would keep me safe, what would keep me happy, and I had never stopped to wonder if he had someone out there doing the same for him. Knowing what I know now, I can answer that.