Til Death Do Us Part

chapter two ~ let me begin again

Ironically, considering all things, the first piece of furniture that came into our house was the doormat. Mom's doormat.

The scratchy brown material with the black lettering was immediately placed behind the front door, and I raised an eyebrow at it, but made my face as neutral as possible when Dad looked at me, not wanting to upset him.

That was how heartbroken my own father was. The closest he had to his own wife wasn't even his daughter anymore. One was dead, and one she wanted dead. It was a doormat. A doormat anyone else would normally just look over.

But I ignored it as I finally dragged my own belongings in last, down to my bedroom, and gave the door a shove, trying to avert my eyes from the trashed backyard. If I could visibly make myself believe that everything was okay and intact, even just for tonight, I wouldn't have to panic about tomorrow.

Our house was a twenty-minute walk from the school - I had passed my test a few weeks before Jess died, but never got around to buying a car. And now all the money I'd saved up for it, I had stowed away in a savings account. I knew that I only had a year left of school, and so I didn't really need a car that badly. I could put it towards college.

I didn't even think to bring my bike up. I just scrapped it back in Houston, with a lot of my old belongings.

Dropping the bags into the middle of the floor, I groaned and fell backwards with a thump onto my new double bed, the mattress stiff from never being slept on, and the rest of the room still void of the other cabinets and wardrobes Dad had ordered to be brought here for tomorrow instead of bringing it all the way from Texas.

My clothes and shoes, or rather, what I'd kept of them, were tucked away in a case, but I couldn't find the strength to open it and put some pyjamas on. So I unzipped my backpack, pulled out my toothbrush and some toothpaste,
and went next door to the bathroom.

Dad had put a new cup on the ledge below the mirror that still had the protective plastic sheet over it where he'd hung it up, and the new toilet seat was on the floor beside it, probably to replace the old one that was still screwed on.

Once I brushed my teeth and washed my face, tying my hair up into a top bun and craftily slipped my bra from under my top without removing it, I went back into my bedroom, closed the floor-length yellow curtains that would be replaced tomorrow, and climbed into the coverless bedsheets.

•••

Sunshine was blaring through the thin curtains when morning came, and I tiredly reached for my phone to check the time.
Half past five in the morning.
I groaned, praying that my own curtains would be much darker and heavier to let me sleep in longer.

Miserably, knowing I wouldn't be able to get anymore sleep with the huge ball of gas in the sky threatening to burn out my retinas if I attempted sleep again, I climbed out of my bed, still in my t-shirt from yesterday, my jeans on the floor.

I didn't even remember taking them off.

Stretching, and knowing I couldn't put off the inevitable for much longer, even prolonging it to take a shower and dry myself off with one of the towels Dad must've unpacked last night, I opened the suitcase and began to take out the folded clothes and shoes, placing them all onto the bed.

Realistically, I didn't really care much about my presentation. But I knew that if Dad saw me wearing scruffy jeans and an oversized sweater, he'd give me nothing more than a funny look, but it would still implicate something was wrong.

And while he was extremely awkward and non-maternal in any way, he still knew me.

With a heavy sigh I settled for a baggy, floaty floral top, a denim skirt and black-strapped wedges, hoping if I went more for the Summer-ready look I might blend in more. Putting my hair into another looser bun on top of my head, fumbling with the annoying strands at the front before giving up on them, I picked up the new bag I'd bought a few weeks ago.