XVII: Growth

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growth

noun


the process of developing or maturing physically, mentally, or spiritually.


"I'm very proud of you, Miss Roth," Mrs. Kransinski said as she handed back the essay Emilia had slaved over. It was only of the options she had when it came to making up her grades, alongside taking the test that she had once failed. Having brought her grades back up, Emilia had made a mental note not to let them drop again. Focusing on her schooling actually brought her some joy, and being told that someone was proud of her made it even more worth the effort. When she was a kid, she always did so well in school. She told herself these days that she couldn't remain strung up on her mother's death two years after the fact. Yes, she was allowed to be sad when she thought of it, but she refused to let it control her life any longer.

She had other things to live for.

Photography had proven to her that the world was still beautiful. Even the ugliest of things could be beautiful, such as blood upon the snow. Jonathan had proven to Emilia that people could be kind if she just let them, let them in and underneath her shell of thick skin. Mrs. Kransinski had proven to Emilia that people did want to help her, even if they didn't seem like it at first. But most of all, Emilia had proven to herself that she still had room for growth and she did not need to be defined by the car accident that ripped her mother from her. She no longer had to see that as the pivotal turning point in her life, but rather a brutal moment of life testing how strong she was. Two years later, and Emilia felt as though she had finally overcome the trauma and pain.

She returned home after school that night, parting ways with Jonathan instead of studying together. There was one more thing she had to do before she felt completely changed, before she could admit to herself that things were getting better for her. While there were parts of her life that she didn't like to reflect on, parts she didn't want anyone to know about, she decided that the next thing she needed to mend was her relationship with her father. It was not going to be easy, but it would be easier than facing a few other things at this point.

"Dad, I'm home!" She half shouted, half whispered in case he was asleep or suffering a hangover at four in the afternoon. He wasn't perfect, but she reminded herself daily that he was her father and he did keep a roof over her head and food in the fridge.

"You're home early," he said, sounding sober. He sauntered over from the living room to the hall, leaning against the wall that had grubby fingerprint stains on it. Wearing jeans and a black shirt, he almost looked nice.

"I'm passing all my courses," she beamed, trying to keep the atmosphere light even though she already felt uncomfortable and that the conversation was forced. "Thanks to my tutor, I've gotten myself back on track."

He nodded, looking less impressed than Emilia expected him to be.

"I thought we could have dinner together, like a family," she suggested, feeling her heart hammer in her chest. She wanted to fix things with her dad, but she couldn't do it if he wasn't willing to step up to the plate and play the game as well.

"Family," he muttered, and then turned around. "Sure."

"I'll cook!" She shouted, still trying to sound chipper but feeling disheartened. 

She spent the afternoon reading her book for English, and studying a bit of her history text book. When dinner time rolled round, her eyes felt tired from reading so much, but she felt good inside. Walking into the kitchen, she noted that her dad was watching TV and sighed a breath of relief; the two of them in the kitchen would probably have ended in a shouting match, and she had the freedom to cook whatever it was she wanted. She didn't need to prove herself to her dad, he had to prove himself to her, and yet she knew that she had to be the bigger person and begin mending the relationship that he had ruined. There was no denying that she hadn't tried to keep their relationship functional after her mother's death, but she didn't push him away like he did to her.

She whipped up a lavish salad with a beautiful array of colours. Like a rainbow, it brought a much needed brightness to the house. After she prepped the salad, she began making what she thought would be a fun dinner; grilled cheese sandwiches. She made a few, knowing that both her and her father could eat a lot when it came down to it. Placing them on a tray, she put them in the center of the small table and shoved two large forks into the salad. They didn't have good plates to use on special occasions, but she dug out the nicest looking ones with no cracks or chips, and set the table. Napkins, ketchup and water glasses came next.

"Dinner's ready," Emilia leaned her head out of the kitchen, which connected to the living room.

Her father got up from the couch, beer in hand, and walked towards the kitchen. Emilia watched with worry as his eyes scanned the table, but she lit up when she noticed the corners of his lips tug into a smile. "Grilled cheese was always your favourite."

"Still is.," she tried to conceal her joy.

They sat down together as a family, for the first time for as long as Emilia could remember. Just like at the Byers, they sat down as though they were some form of functional. When her father finished his beer, he even began drinking the water Emilia had put out. Grimacing as she dipped her grilled cheese into ketchup, he shook his head. "That's disgusting."

She laughed, mouth full of food and quickly covered her mouth. When she swallowed, she shook her head. "It's delicious. A sweetness to the savoury. Try it."

"Ketchup is good for burgers, and that's it."

"I wouldn't know," she rolled her eyes.

"Huh?" He looked up.

"Dad, I haven't eaten meat in like... Ten years."

"Oh yeah," he thought back, reminisced. "We took you to that farm and you fell in love with the cows... Stopped touching meat that very day. Man, your mother and I fought with you about that. You have her stubbornness. Always did."

Emilia stared wide eyed at her father; he was actually recalling something from her past, from her childhood. He was capable of remembering events in her life, and he actually cared. She fell victim to a smile, a smile that warmed her from head to toe. Understanding now that she was capable of building bridges with anyone if she just put a little effort into it, she felt something change within her. She'd become a bigger person, a stronger person, and for once she was proud of herself.

There was still a ways to go, of course. She knew that she couldn't tell her dad that her and Jonathan were something of an item. Most people her age were dating or had dated, most of them had lost their virginity, most of them had gone to parties and gotten drunk. There were things that she would never tell her father, and that was okay. But she wondered, since her and Jonathan had developed something but not yet put a name to it, if her father would understand that she was mature enough to make these sorts of decisions. She wasn't stupid, she wasn't going to let herself get hurt, she wasn't going to make the same mistake her parents did. Her father had been twenty, her mother eighteen, when Emilia was conceived. That's why he would never understand, so she decided it was one thing at a time.

She smiled across the table at her father, and he smiled back.


I liked this chapter, even though everyone probably thought it was boring :P Anyways, question of the day! What is your favourite meal? Mine has got to be Vegan Mac and Cheese or Peanut Thai Tofu Stir Fry.

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