1. Left Behind #2
Isabel reached up and patted his shoulder as she walked past him. “I know, Jakey. But sometimes you have to put your preconceived notions behind. Now, you get settled in your room and I’ll let you know when the sandwiches are ready.”
Jake took a moment to get his bearings once Isabel headed into the kitchen.
The living room was a large, welcoming space, with the old gray, overstuffed couch he remembered from his last visit here, a small TV that looked like it had barely been used in the past decade, several quilts piled up on the chairs and couch, and a coffee table that he didn’t recognize at all—it must have been newer.
He turned around to look at the built-in shelves that lined the wall behind him.
Made of walnut that had been sanded until it was smooth as glass, his uncle had built them when he and Isabel first moved into the house.
They held all sorts of things now, from books to trinkets to framed photos of every single member of the family.
Isabel had even kept and framed the pictures Jake’s parents had sent of both Alex’s and his high school senior photoshoots. His own mom and dad didn’t have any of those photos left in their house, and Jake wasn’t sure of the last time he’d seen them.
He picked up one of the larger photos to get a closer look at it.
It was from when he and the rest of his family visited.
His mom and dad stood in the back of the arrangement, looking the same as they did now, if a little younger.
In front was his sister, older than Jake by almost exactly three years, with her long dark hair, striking eyes, and knobby knees.
People used to get Alex and Jake confused as twins all the time when they were younger.
She was always a little short for her age, and when she and Jake stood together, their many similarities jumped out.
But if you looked closely, Alex’s eyes were more gray than Jake’s green ones, and her hair wasn’t nearly as wavy when it was grown out, like in this photo.
Next in the lineup was Jake himself—well, ten-year-old Jake.
It felt like a million years ago now, and he could hardly remember why he had such a cheeky smile plastered on his face.
He must have done something to piss off their parents, because they were both barely smiling at all, and his father’s fingers that curled into his shoulder were stiff and warning.
Jake had never cared much about the paltry punishments his parents threatened him with: no video games for a week, sitting on his bed until the microwave timer went off, staying in when his friends went to hang out by the lake.
They hurt Jake only as much as they hurt his parents to dole them out.
Besides, they were much more preoccupied with Alex back then, and for good reason.
But life was going swimmingly for her now, and it was quite the turnaround from when they were kids, when Jake was the one barreling through life and still somehow having things work out for him.
At the other end of the picture were Isabel and Mark. Isabel was beaming and wearing quite possibly the exact same skirt she had on today. Mark stood tall beside her, his arm around her waist. They’d always made a striking couple. Everyone told them that, and Jake could see why.
The house behind them looked even nicer than Jake remembered, too, and it made its current state all the more demoralizing. It was going to take a lot of work to get it back to its previous condition, let alone pretty enough to sell quickly, God—Mier—willing.
Some clanking noises came from the kitchen, and Jake put the photo back on the dusty shelf. He went back to the couch and grabbed his bags, lugging them into the hall. The house had only two bedrooms, and as long as Isabel had kept hers, Jake already knew which one was his.
As he expected, the last door on the left was open, and inside the twin-sized bed was made, the sailboat-patterned curtains were parted to let the warm sunshine in, and the drawers in the dresser were open and empty, ready for all his shit to be dumped inside.
Jake tossed his bags onto the bed and sat down beside them with a heavy sigh.
He should have scrambled to find a new job before his parents used it as an excuse to send him here so they didn’t have to deal with the place.
Or he could have just made Alex go after all and dealt with the fallout from Mom and Dad later.
Maybe it was their disappointment that had made him agree in the first place.
Maybe their withering gazes, this time over a lost job instead of a broken window or a scratched car door, were finally punishment enough to get through to him.
Somewhere amidst the pile of luggage, Jake’s phone buzzed. He dug for it until he found it and opened the text he’d just gotten.