Terrestrial Alien ✔

[ Part II ] Chapter 4: Life Still Goes On

I listen to the announcer declare today to be a wonderful, blisteringly warm September day. Typical for Colorado, he laughs. It takes me far too long to make sense of the words he's spouting onto the radio, and far longer to remember why my radio is even on.

Right. I set it as my alarm clock. It's Monday.

Even as I realise this, I can't will my limbs to move right away. 

I push a breath out of my lungs as I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, trying to force the image of a bony, toothy maw from my mind. It was this close to eating me. Again. I groan.

Eventually I manage to get up, as I always do.

I drag through finding clothes to put on, and I drag through tossing my things into my backpack. I pause, only momentarily, before the mirror.

God, I look like hell.

A mess of dark hair, circles under my eyes, and a lackluster disposition that contrasts greatly with the sunny, tawny skin I've inherited from my mother.

(Don't think about her, Joshua.)

I check my watch as I trudge down the stairs, and I find that I'm running a little behind. Shoot. I have many pet peeves in life, and being late is definitely one of them. I pick up the pace a little, taking the last couple steps in twos.

"Aren't you running a tad behind?" Dad asks from the kitchen, startling me.

He peers at me curiously through the little window in the wall dividing the living room and the kitchen, and I hustle over to him.

"Aren't you?" I counter.

He's usually gone by now. Working full time has left him little freetime, and the poor man has been worked practically to the bone supporting the both of us. I hate to see him do it to himself, but until I manage to pick up a side job or something, he's the only bread-maker in the house. And he's sort of thrown himself into his new job since... the incident.

(Don't think about it.)

We've moved. Neither of us could stand living in Windsor anymore, but especially Dad. He was devastated in Mom's absence, and he began seriously struggling with the job he had there, to the point where he just couldn't carry on the way he was. He was falling into a funk. I think we both were.

So we just packed up our things and left, travelling the 300 something miles to Grand Junction, Colorado, where we've spent the last nine years or so.

"Yeah," my dad sighs into his coffee, and the steam billows out around the mug. It still looks too hot to drink, and yet it also looks like the only thing that's holding him up. He holds onto the mug as though he could absorb its warmth and use it to revitalise himself.

Staring into the coffee, Dad admits, "I am late, a little bit. I'm going to go soon though, I promise."

Somehow, I don't quite believe that. I eye him skeptically for a beat, debating whether or not I should comment. But I think of my own things I have to get to today, and I know I can't exhaust myself micromanaging what my father does. He should take his rest where he can get it, anyway.

"Alright, then. I'll see you after school. I'm going to grab Ethan now." Grabbing a granola bar to eat on the way and my soccer bag from the living room, I head towards the door. "And don't be too late!" I add as I leave the kitchen.

"Have a good day!" He calls from behind me, sounding spent already.

"Yeup! You too!"

The door shuts behind me with a click, and I check my watch again, noting that I'm still moving just slightly too slowly.