Waking up this morning felt like I was still dreaming. My father had gotten up before me. He was actually awake and dressed, and his hair was combed. I walked through the hallway and actually caught him shaving. Shaving.
I couldn't believe it.
Neither could my mom, apparently, because he woke her up as soon as he came downstairs. She had claimed the sofa again, saying it was better than smelling three-day old nacho cheese all night (I don't blame her).
But it was crazy. My entire family was awake before seven in the morning. Sometimes I see my mom before nine, but I've never seen either of them awake this early. And they were making breakfast.
Pancakes, bacon, waffles, eggs.
The house smelled so good. Bacon swirled in the hallway, combing the air around me with such a delicious aroma. I practically drooled all the way to the kitchen. It's been so long since mom made breakfast.
"Hey sugar bug! Grab a plate, we've got everything!" mom chimed as I used the edge of the archway to swing into the kitchen. Her smile was larger than life, and it reached her eyes. The corner of her eyes actually had crinkles. I smiled back at her and happily grabbed a plate, loading it up with whatever was available.
"Am I dreaming?" I asked, pouring syrup over two pancakes. Mom laughed. It was beautiful, light, and full of love. Her blonde hair bobbed as she dumped more eggs onto the big buffet plate.
"I sure hope not! Come on, I'll sit with you." She turned the burners, griddle, and waffle iron off. It didn't take her long to grab a plate of her own and load it up just as mine was. Dad shuffled into the kitchen and smiled at both of us.
"My girls! Good morning!" he sang. My heart. It was beating so warmly. I thought my chest might burst from how happy I was in this moment. It felt like we were whole again. Like we could breathe again. Dad hugged my shoulders, kissing my head as he grabbed his own plate. I followed mom to the table and sat down next to her.
"Now I'm startin' to think I'm dreaming..." she murmured, leaning into me as she sat down. I chuckled but said nothing in return because this breakfast looked too good to not eat straight away. Dad sat down across from mom, flashing her another smile as he did.
"This all looks delicious, Cherry."
I admired them secretly, watching my mom blush and my dad smile endlessly at her.
"Oh hush, you," she swatted him from across the table.
I think we all had things we wanted to say, but no one dared to speak. It was a peaceful silence that settled over the table as we ate, occupied by stolen glances, and tinged cheeks. I was fine with the quiet. We all were.
It was hard to believe this was real. It really was. I would've started talking, but I was just so nervous that this would all go away, that I would wake up from this dream.
But the silence was ruined by a strange clattering. All three of us looked up, at each other, before turning our heads to the foyer. I could see out the front windows from where I sat, and just then a couple figures flashed by the window. More clattering. Then, we heard the mailbox opening.
I shot out of my seat.
"Nelly, don't!" mom urged, but she was too late. I was already marching to the front of our house. I ducked my head, peaking out of the bottom of the front window (we had the shades pulled down most of the way). Two boys ran by again.
I heard heavy footsteps behind me, knowing my father was coming to stop me, but I wouldn't. I wouldn't let this happen again.
"Nel, it's not worth it," he spoke gently, grasping my shoulder. I shrugged him off and turned to face him.
"You're just going to let them do this to you?!" I spoke out of anger. My eyes flicked between his furiously, waiting for him to grow a pair and send the kids away.
"It's not that it's—"
But I had already opened the front door. The kids were throwing toilet paper over our bushes, scattering tuna cans all over the yard, and smashing empty bottles along our sidewalks. I found a pair of slip-on shoes and tore the second-layer glass door open.
"HEY!" I yelled. One of the boys was right next to the front steps. He was pulling a carton of eggs out of his bag, so I yanked them away from him and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. "You think this is funny?" I asked. He said nothing in return. His eyes were full of fear, staring at me like he couldn't believe he had gotten caught.
His buddies ran to the edge of my driveway, watching in horror as I finally caught one of them. The kids were young, probably no more than eleven years old. The blonde-haired boy in my grasp looked even younger.
I opened that carton of eggs as best I could, grabbed as many eggs as I could with one hand, and cracked them all over his head. The yolk dribbled down his face like heavy snot. The boy was squirming and yelling but his friends were too chicken to come help him.
I grabbed more eggs, turned the boy around, and cracked both on his back. I pulled on his belt loops and watched him grab his butt as the raw egg pooled to the bottom of his pants.
"What's your name?" I asked sharply, holding his arm. His eyes looked about ready to pop out of his head. I tried to wait patiently, for him to collect enough courage to answer me, but he just kept staring at me like I was the devil. I shook him. "I said, what's your name?"
"W-William!" he rushed. I cocked an eyebrow. "William Tello!" I nodded to myself as I released him. Looking to the other boys I narrowed my eyes.
"Piss off!" I stormed, throwing my hand in the direction they came from. Eggy pants ran across my yard, shifting and wiggling as the egg touched his rear. Bicycles were tearing out of the drive, not bothering to wait for their friend. William winced as he hopped on his bike. I had never seen someone peddle so fast.
I turned around. My father was watching me, eyes as wide as saucers and frown as big as the moon.
"Nelly that was un—"
"Are you just going to let them walk all over you?" I asked, holding my hands on my hips. "You know why they're here. Why can't you stand up for yourself? They're like ten years old!" I declared. Dad sighed. He scratched the back of his head and no longer could look me in the eye.
"We're moving, Nel. It doesn't matter anymore," he sighed. I shook my head and motioned to our yard. To the toilet paper lining the bushes, the eggs on the window, the shattered glass along our walk, the tuna cans in our grass. Those boys do this every now and then because they think it's funny.
Because back before anyone else knew about Willa, my dad drank his life away. There were a lot of incidents involving the police bringing him home. They found him lying in Mrs. Carlson's yard two blocks away in nothing but his underwear one time. Other times he was in a mess of trash after he had run into a bunch of cans on the corner and one time he started peeing in the middle of the park where everyone could see him.
The worst was when he was so drunk that he ran into someone else's home and started yelling at them, asking them why they were in his house. The kids pissed themselves silly laughing about everything. They even started making up their own stories.
He became a joke, a loser, and his reputation never healed. Even after he stopped the drinking, everyone still saw him the same. So, the boys have done to us all the little pranks boys do. I've just never caught them until today.
I shook my head.
"Exactly! Things are different now, that's why you should be proud of yourself. You got us out of this place! You're the reason we're finally getting a fresh start. You can't let people treat you like that." I tried to boost his confidence. I tried to make him stop thinking of all the embarrassing stories he's been hiding from. He looked up at me, his eyes shining a little bit with a small smile tugging at his lips.
"How did I raise such a strong daughter?" he wondered out loud. I smiled a little, but I was still angry. With the boys and him, I just didn't want to show it. Dad started walking down the steps, grabbing at the toilet paper around our bushes.
"Stop, we aren't cleaning this up." I stopped his hand, pulling it away from the teepeed trees. Dad raised an eyebrow at me as I started to head back inside. "I'm going to give Mrs. Tello a call."
And so, I did. I marched right back inside to the drawer in the kitchen with our community's directory. I flipped through the pages, finding Tello listed among the other T's.
It didn't take her long to answer, and when I told her what her precious little William did with his friends, it didn't take her long to start yelling. At first, she couldn't believe it, but I stayed firm with my words, and she became absolutely mortified. She told me right away all of them were coming to apologize and that they would clean up the mess in our yard all day if they had to.
My mom watched all of this from the kitchen.
"You sure are somethin', Nel," she said, coming to squeeze my shoulder, "little overboard, though." I cracked a smile, almost embarrassed of how I let my anger get the best of me. Dad walked into the kitchen and started eating another piece of bacon.
"He deserved it," I reasoned. Mom raised her glass of orange juice in the air.
"Don't I know it," she returned. She used that sentence as a toast, bringing the orange juice up to her lips and sipping it ever so petitely.
There was a loud series of knocks that came from the front door.
We all turned our heads, seeing Mrs. Tello standing on the other side of the glass door with William. There were two other boys behind him, but it definitely wasn't all of the ones who trashed our yard.
I nudged my dad, leading him to the front door. He trailed behind me, obviously embarrassed and a little shy. The door opened outwards, so Mrs. Tello took the liberty of holding it open for me.
"Hi Mrs. Tello," I smiled real wide. William had the egg cleaned off him by now and his pants were different. He wasn't looking at me. He probably was too embarrassed.
"Hi, I feel so awful for what happened," she apologized. Turning to William, she hit his shoulder and motioned with her head towards my father and I. William gulped, holding his little hands in front of him all nervous like.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Madison. This won't ever happen again." William's eyes were staring at the welcome mat. His foot was drawing circles in the short straw and his cheeks were as pink as cotton candy.
"It better not. We won't be living here much longer," Dad spoke sternly. This caught everyone's attention. Mine because he sounded so sure of himself, which is pretty rare. Everyone else looked at him from the mention of moving, of course.
"You're moving?" Mrs. Tello asked. Dad nodded, scratching his eyebrow to fiddle with something.
"Yes ma'am. Moving to Oregon," he said with a smile. Mrs. Tello looked at him like he had grown another head. He continued, "Right near Ashland, actually. It's a nice house. It's out in the country. A good fresh start."
"Oh! That sounds lovely. I don't know how I hadn't heard about this," she said politely. I wanted to roll my eyes. The entire town uses my family as gossip central. I feel like the gossip about us is the only half these people talk to each other. Anything we do, anything we say, the whole town tells each other. Dad chuckled.
"We did only decide yesterday, but we'll be gone by the end of the week," he answered. Mrs. Tello looked shocked. She gathered herself, looking at William for a moment before adjusting her tweed pencil skirt.
"Well, that's lovely. I'm happy for you all," she smiled. Then, she turned around and started speaking to the boys. Ordering them to clean up the lawn, pointing to where they should start.
I couldn't help but smile. Everything comes back to you; this is proof of that. I'm sure it will take a long time for the boys to work past this one. Especially now that Mrs. Tello knows it was her own son that trashed our yard.
I'm almost hoping the Tello's will take our spot. That they'll become the center of gossip for a while. I'm sure they will for a little after this stunt, but they sure aren't interesting enough to whisper about once this incident blows over.
Mrs. Tello shot my dad and I one last smile, pulled a book out of her purse and sat down on the bench we had next to our front steps. The boys were cleaning, their mother was reading, and I was trying to smother a satisfactory smile. After the glass door shut, dad shut the wooden one, too, closing ourselves off from the neighbors.
"What time is it?" dad asked. He looked to me, but I simply shrugged. I didn't have my phone or a clock near me, so I had no clue. Mom peaked her head out of the kitchen.
"Half past eight," she spoke. Dad's eyebrows shot into the air.
"The movers will be here soon. I need the address to the new house," he said, walking to my mom. I followed behind them, curious as to where exactly we were moving to. Mom hummed a little as she rinsed a dish but turned off the water and twirled around, waltzing over to the files from the letter. They were on the opposing kitchen counter, near the waffle iron. Pulling out a paper, she scanned it with her eyes.
"Hmm... let's see here... it says fifteen Myrtleberry Lane," she answered. My eyebrows raised. That is such a pretty street name. Dad caught my mother's hand, shuffling closer to her with a big, bright smile.
"Gosh, Cher, can you believe it? We're really getting out of here," he said, holding the side of mom's head in his palm. She leaned into his touch and shook her head. He leaned in and kissed her for a long time. When he pulled away, both of their eyes were glittering.
"It's amazing..." mom trailed off, brushing her hand sadly against the kitchen counter. I knew she was thinking of Willa.
"It'll be good for us," dad said again. It sounded like he was reassuring himself more than my mom, but either way it worked. She pulled her hand off of the counter sharply and inhaled a deep breath.
"It will," she nodded, brushing dad's forearm with her thumb. I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe, silently agreeing with both of my parents.
I get this weird feeling in my bones thinking about moving. It's exciting and alluring, like we really are meant to live there. I stayed up later than usual last night because I couldn't stop watching videos about Oregon.
The state is absolutely beautiful. They have these gorgeous redwood forests and a pretty coastline. It's not too hot there and it's all about wilderness and nature and adventure. It sounds like the perfect place for me... and I'm sure they have plenty of tree angels. I let out a little laugh to myself, not realizing my parents would hear it.
"You laughin' at your old man?" dad teased. I looked at him with a smile and shook my head absentmindedly.
"No. I was laughing at myself," I returned. Dad didn't pay any attention to what I just said. He was too busy in his own head, checking off his to-do list so we get out of here on time.
"We need to get packing. Nelly, you got your stuff in boxes yet?" he asked, turning into an army general. I shook my head again, pushing myself off the wall with my shoulder.
"Better get packing missy," mom added. I rolled my eyes.
"It's pretty much done... I just have to finish my closet..." I defended as I walked towards the stairs. I heard mom scoff behind me.
"That'll take you all day," she mumbled. I didn't say anything back to her remark, I just walked upstairs, getting ready to conquer the beast.
The secret to keeping a clean room is to always have a place to put junk. For me, it's my closet. Open that door and you'll be met with a hurricane. If you leave it closed, though, my room is good enough for a staged house tour. Seriously!
My technique works, too. Mom never fusses at me for cleaning my room. She found my closet only about a week ago, so for a good twenty some years she's just thought I was a neat freak.
I rubbed my hands together in preparation for opening the door. Once I got my conscious in line, I laughed to myself and pulled it open.
It was a pleasant surprise to only find two Rubik's cubes and a bag of dominos fall out of it. Maybe this won't be so bad.