repeat// 5SOS

words we don't mean

Gabi

When I woke up in the morning, I felt okay again. Perhaps I was starting to feel okay overall.

That was good .

My window was open, and Petunia was still laid next to me on my bed. It was quite warm, and sunny- overall pleasant.

I got up and headed to the hall, seeing Ashton's room empty. Then, I saw mum sat by her mirror putting makeup on, so I knocked and went inside.

"Good morning. Dad and Ashton have gone on a walk,"

"Oh, okay,"

"He wants to talk to you when he gets back,"

"Oh,"

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay. Mad... confused. Bored,"

"I think you're both in the same boat then,"

"I guess,"

"You'll figure it out. He doesn't hate you,"

"I don't get why he humiliated me like that,"

"That wasn't his intention, I didn't realise you felt that way, it makes a bit more sense now," she said, turning to face me.

"Sometimes dad doesn't understand how this all feels to me. I know he tries but he doesn't get it, and he doesn't get how I try to cope,"

"Yeah... I think you can both move past it. Being cooped up at home isn't helping anyone, I know even I feel a bit tense,"

I shrugged and looked down, pulling at a loose thread on their duvet cover.

"What would you like for breakfast?"

"I don't know,"

"Shall we have pancakes?"

"You're not mad at me?"

"Your dad and I do not share a brain cell,"

I looked up and she grinned, so I smiled back and nodded, shuffling off the bed.

"Although, I don't know if I can handle the stress of being in the not safe zone,"

"No one is actually in that zone,"

She gave me a hug, then we slowly made our way downstairs to the kitchen. I watched as she got the ingredients out, then she showed me how to make them. No one had really shown me how to cook before.

There were lots of small moments in the last 3 months that mum had been part of that really made her mum. She just thought of things that dad didn't, like she got me flowers, and my favourite lipgloss, or we got to spend time talking about perfumes and hair.

I knew dad would listen to me, and that it wasn't things that only mums could do, but it was what Sierra could do. It was what her being mum was to me.

As I was putting nutella on the pancakes, dad and Ash got back. He looked at me awkwardly, then went off upstairs, so I looked back at Sierra and sighed.

"He looks mad,"

"No. He looks like he needs to apologise and he is being stubborn,"

"You're very critical of him sometimes,"

"I am not critical of him, I am just good at spotting when someone is being a jerk. You're a jerk sometimes, I am sometimes. It happens,"

"I'm not a jerk! That word is not classy enough,"

We took breakfast to the table and ate together, talking about my day yesterday, then dad came down in his pyjama bottoms carrying Petunia, his hair wet from the shower.