Stalked

Chapter Eight

It was almost noon by the time I got back home. I walked in the front door of the blue house and yelled, "Mom! I'm home!"

My call was met by silence as I closed the door behind me. I walked into the kitchen on a mission for some of the soup from last night. As I walked in, I saw Ethan standing in just a towel, eating from a bowl. "Oh god, Ethan, I'm sorry," I said as I turned on my heel and prepared to walk out the door.

"No, it's fine Kelsey. I was just leaving with this soup."

My ears perked up. "Did you say soup?"

"Yeah, I just got out of the shower and grabbed the last that was in there." He shrugged, shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

I walked up to him and hit him. He yelped and gave me a look. "I was gonna eat that!" I said.

"Too late," he said as the spoon met his lips once again.

I gave him a pointed look. "Uh, hello. I'm the one who was in the hospital!" I said sassily. I didn't really mean for him to give me the soup, it was merely an excuse for being mad.

He looked sheepishly at the soup, mouthed "sorry" to it and handed me the bowl.

"Ethan, it's fine I can just make a grilled cheese or something, you don't have to-"

"Kelsey, it's fine." He moved closer to me and tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

I gave him a glare; he was crossing the line. He smiled at me and I grabbed the bowl of soup and went into the living room to watch reruns until midnight.

I awoke the next morning curled up on the couch, the TV still on and the bowl still on the table in front of me. I stood up groaning and took my empty bowl and went into the kitchen to rinse it off and put it in the dishwasher. Jack shuffled into the kitchen from the front door with the newspaper in his hand. I waved at him and he grunted at me. I laughed a little to myself because Jack was most definitely not a morning person. As I was turning around, my mom practically skipped down the stairs, singing a song about sunshine or something of that nature.

Polar opposites.

I was about to escape their public displays of affection when my mom seemed to remember something.

"Kelsey!" She called.

I stopped in my tracks and put on a smile. "Yes?"

"I have to drive you to your physical therapy appointment at 11:30, so take a shower and get dressed and whatnot."

It was eleven exactly by the time I finished getting ready. There wasn't much 'getting ready' to do; I just threw some stretchy sweatpants on and a random sweatshirt from my closet. I found some athletic looking sandals in my bathroom and slid those onto my bare feet. I walked downstairs and told my mom I'd be in the car.

I tapped my leg anxiously in the waiting room of the place. It wasn't that crowded, only a few other people, all college aged; a muscular guy with a boot on his left leg, an athletic girl with crutches. My mom said to me, "You'll be fine if I come back ten minutes before it ends right?"

"I'll be here."

She seemed satisfied and walked out the door.

A man appeared and said "Kelsey?"

I stood up and shook his hand, taking in his appearance. He seemed middle aged, but his friendly smile and salt and pepper hair could be deceiving.

Like my dad. His charming smile could fool any government agency that happened to stop by the house. It was the smile my mom fell in love with, the smile I trusted.