6. Dove
DOVE
Then
I hated it here.
Or rather, I wanted to hate it here.
What I really hated was how much I didn’t hate it, not really. Not like how I thought I would.
Mom was moving on from the tragedy of Dad, while I struggled every day to pretend like a part of me hadn’t died right alongside him in the accident four years ago.
Not only had I lost him, but then we lost the house—our home —and were forced to live in an apartment that made a shoebox seem roomier.
Remember that nursery rhyme about the woman who lived in a shoe?
Well, I could sympathize with her. Ask yourself, which was cozier, the shoe or the box it came in?
Shrouded in the grief of losing my dad, and drifting farther from my mom, the only thing I’d been thankful for was still being in the same school district.
At the very least, I had my friends to lean on.
Not that they could understand what I was going through, when their families remained whole and intact, untouched by the cruel kiss of fate.
It was a relief to have them, though, as they were the one unchanged thing in my life, even if everything seemed different after the funeral. Less permanent, somehow.
While things hadn’t been getting better, really, I was at least adjusting to this new normal, where I woke up in cold sweats at night, the phantom taste of fresh strawberries and the metallic tang of blood lingering on my tongue, where the screech of a car brake could send me careening into a flashback.
Since that day, my mind had become a dangerous place to be trapped in, but I was learning to live with these things.
Having a routine helped. My friends helped.
Until I got that taken from me, too.
Of all the men my mother could have chosen, it had to be a man who lived on a farm , of all places, in the middle of nowhere, nearly an hour out of the city.
As if the universe had heard my pleas within the suffocating walls of the apartment, it answered with a twisted sense of humor, gifting me the space I’d craved so badly.
So much of it, now, it was nearly isolating.
Since my mother still worked her job in the city, she commuted early.
Which meant I rarely saw her before she left.
It was summer, so I wasn’t forced to get up at an ungodly hour to meet the bus.
That was my excuse, at least. The real reason was my nightmares had increased, making it hard for me to sleep at night.
My therapist had warned me moving to a new environment might do that.
Exhausted from disrupted sleep, I often slept past when mom left for work.
I told myself it was for the better, anyway.
She didn’t have time to make breakfast like she used to, when her job had only been fifteen minutes down the road.
Breakfast had always been our favorite meal together.
She’d make stacks of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and buttered toast. Before the accident, we’d all sit together and wake with the day, my dad’s smile slowly warming up for the both of us.
After he was gone, she still made a feast out of habit, and we’d sit there together, just the two of us, slow and sleepy-eyed, and just be .
Those mornings were the only time I felt close to my mom after the accident. It reminded me that, despite the lack of my dad’s presence, we still had each other, we were still here, even if we didn’t have the best ways of expressing it.
Those moments, sitting around the breakfast table before the day had a chance to separate us, had been for us, and us alone.
Not so much anymore, now that it was my mom and Gareth … and his son Josh.
Even if my mom had time to make breakfast in the mornings like she used to, it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be ours .
Despite that, it still wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined it to be.
Gareth and Josh were always busy, and the house was spacious.
I had my own room to hide in, which faced out into the backyard so I could glimpse the sun rising over the trees, glistening over the still water of the lake that peeked out of the woods, the dock hidden beyond the trees calling for me to come sit on it.
It wasn’t enough to make me stop missing my friends, but it was better than the apartment, at least.
The best thing to come out of the move was the kitten I’d gotten to keep, even if it had just been because Josh felt bad for me. Or maybe it had been a bribe to like him? Either way, it worked. A kitten could help make any situation better.
Thinking of the little guy, and how he was likely waiting for his breakfast, I begrudgingly rolled out of bed and got ready for the day.
Once I’d brushed my hair up into a quick ponytail, I threw on some clothes I wouldn’t mind getting dirty.
Everything here was either dusty or greasy, I’d learned the hard way.
Ruining a few good shirts in the weeks I’d been here, I now picked things I wouldn’t mind getting stained.
Josh had offered to give me some of his outgrown clothes, but I’d politely declined.
For some reason, imaging myself wearing his shirts made my stomach swoop like I was on a roller coaster.
Besides, I hardly knew him. It would be weird.
Walking into the kitchen, I found a hastily scrawled note from my mom, apologizing for not having breakfast ready.
Honestly, I didn’t mind. Gareth kept the kitchen stocked with easy-to-grab breakfast foods.
Until meeting my mom, he’d lived like a bachelor—or so she’d said.
I overheard her telling a friend on the phone that he’d lost his wife a long time ago, and so he didn’t have anyone to take care of him.
Until that moment, I hadn’t realized adults needed taking care of, too. My mind had instantly gone to Gareth’s teenage son. If Gareth needed someone to take care of him , who was taking care of Josh?
The screen door slammed behind me as I finished the corner of my Pop-Tart, wiping the crumbs from my shirt.
Heat, humid and choking, hit me in the face.
Realistically, I knew the weather was the same in the city, but for some reason, it felt ten times hotter here.
Maybe because I was forced outside more often, rather than my normal routine that consisted of staying inside and enjoying the glorious invention of air conditioning.
My shoes toed the top step as I scanned the property.
I had no idea where Gareth or Josh were this morning.
Gareth was often called out to local farms for repairs, which meant Josh helped a lot during the summer.
Having no idea what I was doing, I stayed out of their way, familiarizing myself with the property by wandering, or visiting with the animals.
Squinting against the glare of the sun as I hopped down from the porch, I searched for a sign of anyone. Gareth’s pick up was gone, but so was Josh’s. Panic seized me for a moment before I remembered I was ten and a half, nearly eleven ; I was fine by myself.
It would be nice if they’d let me know they were leaving, though.
“ Pshpshpsh,” I called out to the kitten. I was still throwing around some names for him but hadn’t settled on one yet. “Here kitty, kitty.”
Gravel crunched under my shoes as I walked across the driveway, heading toward the shed.
There were a few spots he liked to hang out, but if he was hungry, he’d be there.
That was where Josh had fed the kittens since they were little, and where I continued to feed him even after they’d all been adopted out.
“Hey!”
Startled by the greeting, I nearly slipped on the rocks beneath my feet as I turned toward the direction of that deep voice.
Josh walked around the side of the garage, wiping his greasy hands on a stained rag.
The top of the dark coveralls he wore were pushed down, the arms tied at his waist, leaving an off-white, threadbare tank top covering his chest. His arms shined with sweat, and my eyes zeroed in on an oily smudge?—
“ Mrow.”
Clinging to his shoulder was the kitten I’d been hunting.
His tail swished back and forth, brushing the ends of Josh’s disheveled brown hair in need of a cut.
In his excitement at seeing me, he nearly slipped off, and a large, mostly clean hand lifted hastily to keep him from falling.
Josh came to a stop before me, barely an arm’s length away, allowing the kitten to leap between us.
I caught him easily in my hands, snuggling him close in my arms. His fur against my skin was soft and warm, like he’d been basking in the sun.
Josh’s hand came up to scratch between the kitten’s ears, and the happy purr he released vibrated against my chest.
“I fed him,” Josh said, flipping the rag over his shoulder casually.
That was nice of him, but now the only thing on my to-do list today was taken care of.
“You didn’t have to.”
He chuckled softly. “He practically tied himself up in my boot strings this morning with his begging.” His head shook fondly, making the sweaty ends of his hair sway. “I was already over there feeding the chickens, so I just did it. It was really no trouble.” He offered me a smile.
There went my stomach again.
Maybe I should have eaten something other than a Pop-Tart. Clearly it hadn’t been filling enough if my stomach was acting up.
The kitten in my arms meowed again, demanding attention. My hand moved absentmindedly to pet along his back, and he settled back down in my arms, content.
Maybe I should get up earlier. I didn’t want Josh to think I was skirting the responsibility of the kitten I’d promised to look after, and it wasn’t fair to make the little guy wait for food.
Resolving myself to earlier mornings, I asked him, “What are you working on?”