For Every Missing Shade

Entry 39

"You can't be mad at me, I'm like the holy trinity of excuses to be nice right now: hot, orphaned, and filled with shitty little tumors."

"I love you."

"Here, let's go for a walk to get your mind off of it. I'm due for some minutes out of this god-forsaken bed."

I tried to help her up but she insisted on doing it herself. She could walk, but not too far without a walker.

"Do you still love me even though I have the physical abilities of a decrepit old woman?"

"Eh."

"Fuck you," she said smiling.

We walked out into the hallway, chatting more about my day at school and the awkward encounters I had during it. I brought up that I haven't seen Stew yet, to which she screamed and said she needs to see him again.

It fascinated me to be around her. It didn't matter where we were or what was going on around us. Things just had a habit of getting back to normal.

We were just finishing up our conversation as we ran into her parents. They looked excited to see Emma, with dinner and a portable DVD player in their hands.

"Oh hi there Israel," her dad said as he walked up to shake my hand. "We were just about to eat some food and watch a movie. You're, uh, more than welcome to join."

I looked over at Emma and she did a slight shake of her head. This wasn't me time, this was them time. "Thank you for the invitation, Mr. McKenzie, but I should be getting back to my own home for dinner. I've been away from the parents for too long."

"No problem, and call me Dave. No need to pretend we're still formal."

"No problem, Mr.- I mean, Dave."

"And call me Kathy," her mom interjected.

"Absolutely. You two can call me Mr. Taylor."

They laughed and I took it as my exit. I hugged Emma and shut the door behind me as they talked amongst themselves.

I was pretty excited to go home, actually. Emma cheered up the black and white and now I was just looking forward to something I hadn't done in a while: a calm dinner with my parents.

I walked through my front door to the clang of kitchenware and the smell of something good. I walked into the kitchen where my mom and dad were cooking together. My mom had her hair up and a glass of wine in her hand while my dad was next to the stove reading out of a cookbook. It was a scene I wanted to paint. A scene I didn't want to disturb.

"Oh honey, how was your first day back at school?" my mom asked.

"I mean, take a guess. People noticed my absence and now they notice me being there even more. Word gets around quickly."

"Sorry about that," she responded. "Take a seat, though, we're making - well - trying to make a new type of seafood pasta. It should be good if this dummy can learn the recipe."

"I'll tell you the same thing I told your mother when I started," my dad said to me, "if I'm the one cooking, you cannot complain about how this turns out."

"Way to cover your butt," I joked.

"Did you talk to anyone?" asked mom.

"Not really."

"Honey, I think you should talk to other people at school. I'm sure you're making everything seem more intense than it actually is."

"Hm," I responded. "Not gonna lie, I think I might do it my way for the next month. Then, I'll have the rest of my life to follow your advice."

She sighed quietly as she took another sip of wine. I felt bad for making her think that I was nothing more than some helplessly dependent baby, scared to venture more than two feet away from Emma.

It was true, but there was no use making my mom think it too.

"But, I don't know. Maybe you're right. What if I invited Stew over for dinner tomorrow?"

"That would be lovely," she responded.

I was having trouble talking about anything other than Emma. I couldn't even think of something that wasn't related to her anymore. If I tried to talk to them about the trip, it would be about Emma. If I talked to them about school, it would be about Emma. If I talked to them about dinner tonight it would still somehow be about Emma.

"I think some of my classes will actually be pretty cool this semester," I remarked. "I'm taking a class that's just about reading as well as a creative writing course."

"Well that's cool!" she exclaimed. "Remember to not slack off too much your senior year, Pragma University is definitely going to be watching their star recruit for the remainder of the semester - which reminds me, you need to submit some artwork for their scholarship!"

"Oh yeah. I mean, it's not due for another couple of months. But, yeah, thanks for the heads up."

We ate dinner as a family. They asked me more about classes and friends, and I answered how I imagined I normally would. Things felt alright. Not normal, but okay.

I could deal with okay.