Sincerely, Delilah

ONE

He brought us into the house carrying Dallas' and my bags, meanwhile Sam slugged behind him with his own. I set my backpack down on the dark maple flooring and took a seat on the dark leather sectional of the living room. My eyes scanned across the brick fireplace and built-ins overflowing with knick-knacks, books, picture frames, and so much more.

"How was the ride?"

"Tiring enough, but not terrible."

"I'm glad," he paused and hesitantly smiled my way. "Once again, I'm sorry I couldn't pick you guys up. It's a long trip and I wouldn't be—"

I interrupted him, "That's not a problem. It was an enjoyable ride, and the boys slept most of the way. They kept quiet, and the view was really beautiful so I didn't mind driving."

His smile slowly faded as he awkwardly laced his hands.

"You are starting to sound awfully a lot like your mom," The three of us looked at him, and he looked at us. He barely managed another breath before offering to show the boys to their room; leaving me alone in the dim, living room.

I took the time to think.

My mind wandered to the picture frames on the wall, and the small family of five spread across each picture. They were pictures of us before Dad had left and life had begun changing. No matter how much paint I had spotting my cheeks or how many teeth I had lost, I always had an enormous smile on my face.

Those memories felt so familiar, yet so far away all at once.

I stood in silence for a long while before he retrieved me and brought me back upstairs into my own room. It was a room with a full-size bed and desk along the farthest wall. It was nothing special.

"Is there anything else I can get you?"

I shook my head and took a seat on the bed. "It's great, thank you."

"It's a bit small, but since your brothers have to share a room, I figured you wouldn't mind. If you'd rather take the room in the basement, I'd be fine with that. It's just, there's no sunlight down there and it can get really cold at night—" He vaguely explained. He leaned back on the doorway and shoved his hands in his jeans, then opened his mouth to say something.

Nothing came out and he closed it again.

"You know Dad, It's been a long day and I'm pretty tired."

"Yeah, you're right." His voice squeaked like a teenage boys' and his eyes rose from the floor to me. "One minute, I have something for you on my dresser. I will be right back,"

He left and came back with a vanilla folder in his hands. After he passed it onto me, his right hand gently patted my back and his lips pressed to the hair on top of my head. It felt elementary and chiche, but my body seemed to release all tension and began relaxing at that moment.

He turned around at the door and looked back at me.

"Get some good sleep, I'm right next door if you need anything."

With that, he left the room and shut the door behind him. I put the folder on my nightstand and flung myself to the bed.

It wasn't the perfect reunion I had hoped for; nor was it the worst reunion either. I had believed that everything would pick up where we had left it, but if anything it was the opposite. We all were awkward and new to Dad after the four years he's been gone.

Understandable, yet devastating.

Did I expect him to fully embrace us with open arms? Not fully. We only told him a week ago we were coming, and it's not like we gave him much of a choice. Plus, he's always been reserved with others; I just never realized he would be that way with me too. It's hard to face the reality that we are similar to strangers now and have to get to know each other all over.

It can't be that hard, can it? We live under the same roof, eat the same food, and watch from the same TV. Everything will be fine. Hopefully.

I'd managed to unpack my duffle bag and change into my favorite cacti pajamas. I grabbed some ice cream from the kitchen and climbed underneath my heavy comforter to watch movies on my laptop. I eventually fell asleep with a pillow to my chest.