Chapter 36 #2
“That’s—that’s crazy that she could do that to you,” I whisper. “H—how? She was your bondmate?”
“I’ve asked myself that question over and over again,” he says, his shoulders slumping forward.
“And I have yet to come up with an answer. Maybe I worked too much. Maybe she was just that deeply unhappy with our lives together. I’ve decided that it doesn’t really serve me to think endlessly about it. ”
His lips quirk up as he takes a deep breath.
“Especially now that you’ve made your way back home.”
He sets his mug down and tilts his head towards the hallway.
“Would you like to see the rest of the house? Maybe it’ll stir up more memories.”
“I’d... really like that,” I say, my voice coming out smaller than I meant it to.
“I have videos saved from when you were a child,” he says, waving to his office door as we pass it. “As you can imagine, I tended to have a camera in my hand more often than not. I’ll show you sometime, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I nod.
For some reason, the thought of watching home videos like that doesn’t send the same jolt of anxiety as watching film for my mom’s show from when I was younger.
I think because when I watch those old episodes, I’m reminded of the stress of not saying things properly, or not looking good enough on camera to fulfill my mom’s vision, or because the only time I had the nice version of my mom was when the cameras were running.
Edison leads me down a hallway, pointing out little details of the house as we go. A still from the first frame he ever did. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves along one wall, crowded with books of all sorts. Some old childhood photos with the two of us.
Those are the ones that draw my eye the most.
I look so... happy in them.
We both do.
Despite my return, there’s still a heaviness around my Dad’s eyes that must come from the stress of everything that happened.
The guys trail behind us at a respectful distance. They seem to understand that I don’t think I have the strength to be left alone, but that this is a tour for me.
We reach the stairs.
“We have a guest room on this floor,” Edison says, nodding towards a door on the right. “But I thought you might want to see the upstairs.”
I follow him up, my hands finding the banister. The wood is smooth under my palm, worn and warm from the decades of use.
Was this the staircase?
My steps slow as something tugs at the back of my mind.
It’s just a flash of a memory. But I’m pretty sure I used to climb up these stairs on my hands and knees like a total weirdo. I’m not even sure if the memory is real or my brain is just filling in the blanks for me.
At the top of the landing, Edison turns and catches my expression. He doesn’t say anything. He just waits, his hands clasped loosely in front of him, giving me all the time in the world to process what I need to.
It’s so different from my mom. The thought makes my heart hurt.
What would my childhood have been like if I’d spent it with him instead of her?
“Sorry,” I mumble.
I’m not sure whether I’m apologizing for the blasphemous, traitorous thought or making him wait.
“Don’t be. No need to apologize,” he says.
He turns and stops at the second door down the hall. There’s a sheepishness in the way he reaches for the handle that I recognize. It’s the same look I’m pretty sure I get when I’m getting ready to show something important to me to someone whose opinion I care about.
“Fair warning,” he says, his lips twitching up. “I... redid most of the furniture, but I couldn’t bring myself to—”
He opens the door.
Oh.
I get what he means the moment I can see inside. The walls are painted a bright, absurd, almost neon aquamarine. The kind of color that child-me must have absolutely loved.
“It was your favorite color. At least when we were picking paint. You wouldn’t let go of the sample card no matter how many different colors were offered by the interior decorator.”
I stare at the walls, feeling something tug at the back of my mind. My mom’s shrill voice yelling. I don’t even remember what she was yelling about.
That tends to be the case for a lot of my childhood memories. It’s like my brain was so overwhelmed by everything that it lost its ability to file the memories away properly.
“My mom hated it, didn’t she?” I snort.
His brows raise in surprise before he offers a slow nod.
“She was not... the happiest, no. But you were so excited, I just couldn’t say no.”
I think about the child version of me I barely remember. The version of me that was small and loud about her opinions, with someone who loved her enough to honor them.
“I think I picked it because it reminded me of the ocean,” I murmur softly, running my hand along the wall.
I think of my apartment. There are still bits and pieces of that aesthetic I’ve included, though in a far tamer and more appropriate way, at least by my mom’s standards.
The framed print of the sea glass coast above my couch, the little ceramic shell dish on my shoe cabinet, the shower curtain with the stupid cartoon waves on it that Ezra would never stop giving me shit for.
What other things are remnants of my childhood? What parts of myself, the parts about the things I love, have roots in my childhood with Edison that I can’t remember?
My eyes drift up to the ceiling, and I freeze.
“Are those...”
“Ah, yes, the planets,” Edison says, smiling fondly up at the ceiling. “Couldn’t get rid of those either.”
“Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto,” I breathe out. “Did you teach me those?”
“I did!” Edison nods fondly. “Though apparently they’ve gotten rid of Pluto from the official solar system.”
“I was so sad when they did it,” I say, letting out a soft huff of laughter as I stare up at the floating plastic planets hanging from my ceiling. “Thank you for showing me this.”
“Of course, Andi. I mean it. This is... this is your home too. You’re welcome at any time.”
We head back downstairs after a few minutes. The guys join us for the tail end of the tour, making conversation with Edison.
Leo catches my eye over Edison’s shoulder and raises his brows, almost like he’s asking me if I’m okay.
I give him a nod and a small, tired smile.
I mean it.
But this has been... a lot.
“Will you be back anytime soon?” Edison asks, standing at the doorway. The sun has started to set, casting us in a blueish glow.
I pause, glancing back at him. His knuckles are white on the doorknob, the only sign that he’s anything other than relaxed.
“Yeah,” I nod. “I’d like that.”
“That’s fantastic,” he says with a smile. “See you soon, Andi.”