Chapter 3
As we pulled into the driveway at my Aunt's house, formerly my Dad's house, I couldn't keep my stomach from churning. Even though I grew up here, it never quite felt like home after my dad passed, and it was for sure the last place I wanted to be right now.
I counted the wooden steps as I walked up to the porch, as I always had when I lived here. One, two, three, four, porch. Each step was laced with familiar creaks. I should have been happy to be here, to not be dealing with school or my dorm mates, to have some company. But I couldn't shake the feeling inside that here was the last place I should have been.
I sighed heavily and turned to look at my old neighborhood as Erica unlocked the door. Nothing had changed but at the same time, everything had changed. The mailbox dad and I had painted together when I was little was still there, but the colors were all faded and chipped.
I remembered that day so vividly. We'd just watched the movie 'Up' and I hadn't stopped pestering Dad to let me paint my handprint on the mailbox. He'd said no for hours and hours, but eventually he caved and was out dismantling it to bring it inside to paint at 11pm. He always caved when it came to me.
"Coming in, sweetness?" Erica asked, clearly noticing I was stuck in my own head.
"Mhmm." I couldn't even get words out. I did not want to be here. I could not deal with this right now.
I turned to step into the house, but did a double take thinking I had seen someone across the street staring, but again there was no-one there. I didn't have the mental capacity to dwell on whether I was going insane, so I shrugged it off and headed inside, instantly regretting not kicking up a fuss about going back to the dorm.
I walked in and the house was identical to how it was when I'd left. I don't know why I thought it would have changed. I'd only been at college for seven months and had lived here for most of my life - with Erica when Dad had died. It was fast approaching the five year mark since his death, maybe that had something to do with how torn up I was feeling right now.
Just as I was starting to look at the family photos hung on the wall, I was distracted by a scraping on my shin.
"Hey Banjo!" I smiled down at my old golden retriever. "How are you buddy?"
I sank to the floor, crossing my legs so he would lay on my lap like he had since he was a puppy. I scratched his belly while he let out tiny cries.
"I think someone has missed you Melly." Erica smiled at us.
"Oh I've missed you too my bestest best friend." I said as I loved on him. Damn I missed this dog all the damn time.
"Come on, I'll make you something to eat. I can't imagine hospital breakfast to be that gourmet." She said but I had to protest.
"Can I please grab a shower first? I feel disgusting." I still felt sticky from sweating so much thanks to my nightmare.
"Okay, I'll make something hot then. Be down in 30." She said, shooing me up the stairs.
As I stood in the shower, the hot water cascaded over my face and down my body, it was like I could literally feel everything bad that happened in the last day pour away down the drain. I never felt more at peace than when I did in the shower. I loathed baths though.
I washed my hair and let my mind go completely blank while I let the conditioner sit. I never wanted to get out but the smell of bacon wafting upstairs was enough to entice me.
I looked in my old wardrobe, thankful that I hadn't taken everything to college with me. I picked out some black sweatpants, a black zip up hoodie and an old band tee l. I ran a brush through my wet hair and put my hood up to help it dry naturally.
I sat at my dressing table looking not in the mirror but at all the small polaroid's I had scattered around it. Dad and me in a selfie taken at the beach one vacation. Banjo laid on my lap on Christmas morning when he was a puppy. Me and Aunt Erica wearing matching witch outfits one Halloween. One of me lost in a book that Dad had taken when I wasn't looking. And my all time favourite, one of me and Dad as he laid in his hospice bed.
It was taken on one of his better, more lucid days towards the end. We'd had the best conversations, reminiscing on better days and we'd shared some really personal thoughts that I'd never feel right relaying to another person. I'd never felt more loved or closer to Dad than I did that day. God I missed him.
Banjo was laid at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me when I stepped out my room. The sweet old boy couldn't manage the stairs anymore. I smiled at him when I got to the bottom and patted his little head.
"Come on bestie, I'll share my bacon with you. But don't tell Aunt Erica." I said as he looked up at me, tail wagging.
"You will absolutely not give that dog any damn bacon Melissa. He eats me out of house and home! He's too fat already!" Erica stated, whilst actively handing him a piece of bacon herself.
I couldn't help but laugh. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad staying here for a few days. The water pressure of the shower was tenfold better here than at my dorm, I had my best friend Banjo to love on, and all the time in the world to read my books. If I could just get my mind off my dad maybe it'd be okay.
"How are you feeling honey? Really?" Erica questioned me as I sat at the table to eat. I felt like there was more to that question than was spoken.
"Yeah I'm okay, the headache's almost gone now and I feel a million times better than I did last night." I reassured her, despite the feeling that there was something else coming.
"No I mean, generally." She said. Here we go, I thought. "How are you doing with being away from home at college, being back here without any warning, with your Pop's anniversary coming up next month? There's a lot going on for you right now. How are you dealing?"
She seemed to have wrapped up every worry I had in my mind and laid it out into one unavoidable question. Damn.
"College is great, I don't mind being back here, and yeah I'm always sad about Dad, but it is what it is." At least I gave a half truth on that last one.
Erica sighed, seeing right through me. "No Melissa. I know more than you think. I spoke with your lit professor yesterday when I couldn't get ahold of you. Did you know you're failing the semester?"
"I had gathered that actually yah, but I'm sure I can turn it around". I said.
"Your professor doesn't seem to think so. He said it's like you've been there physically but not mentally. What's going on? I thought this was something you wanted?" She said.
How could I put in to words that college was what she wanted for me? Never something I'd wanted. I never cared about getting a higher education, I just wanted to not be here and I wanted everyone to stop wanting more from me and for me. I would have been happy just working at the supermarket for the rest of my life. I never felt like a complicated person with big aspirations. I didn't dream about travelling the world, meeting new people, learning new things, falling in love or anything like that. Everything I had ever wanted for myself went away when I was 15. That wasn't going to change because of a college I never wanted to be at in the first place.
"I do want it Erica. I will sort it all out, I swear. I'll speak with Professor Atkins when I go back next week and ask for some extra credit or something. If they do extra credit there, I don't know. But I'll sort it out." I lied again.
"I can only help you if you tell me what's wrong." She said, typical parenting tactic.
"Honestly Erica nothing is wrong! I don't know what you want to hear from me!" I snapped, my temper rising.
"Okay. I'm not arguing with you when you have just gotten out of the hospital, but we're going to come back to this. You're turning in on yourself again Mels and I can't sit by and let that happen. It almost broke us last time!" She said as her eyes started tearing up. I felt terrible guilt run through me instantly.
"Okay. We'll talk about it later. I'm going to go lie down for a bit, I still feel a little groggy." I said truthfully and excused myself from the table when she agreed that was a good idea, seeming satisfied that I'd eaten the breakfast she'd cooked for me, despite the help I'd had from Banjo.
As I laid in my childhood bed my mind was racing. I knew Erica was right. Hell, even Professor Atkins was right. I was just existing and not actually living my life. The only problem was that I didn't care enough to do anything about it. I knew I should but I just didn't see the point. I was a broken person. More than that, I was broken beyond repair.
The stress of my thoughts had sent me into sleep and like clockwork I woke up shaking and sweating. I had had the nightmare again, the mystery man present and accounted for. He'd said more to me this time though - not that it made any more sense. Dad had sat up and looked at him, and he had turned to me right on queue. This time though I heard "Melissa, Run from, We Need, Sending, You."
What the hell was going on? I needed to figure out what was happening in my mind and who this man was. I made a mental note to try and take more in next time I had the dream, if he was there. If only I could remember anything about him from when I saw him in the hospital. All I could recall was the chill that ran through my body when I looked into those eyes. So cold and dark and, lonely?