Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Ignore the big men with the guns and invite me in.”
“This is your house,” he says, stepping aside. “But shouldn’t we ask them to come too? I mean, at least Tigran, right?” He waves, but I pull him away.
“I’m here for myself.” I walk with him to the kitchen. “Now, tell me what you’ve been doing since I left.”
“Basically, the same old stuff. I’m way more interested in you. How’s Tigran? How’s life? How’s—” He glances at my belly.
“Happy. Healthy. Surprisingly good.” I fill him in on the major events while he makes tea. It feels so weird being back in my old house again.
Everything’s the same, but it’s also completely different. The chairs feel smaller, the clutter bothers me more, and the dishes in the sink are annoying. And I know that really, nothing’s changed at all, except for me.
I’ve changed so much that I don’t fit in here anymore.
“Dad was pretty messed up when he got back from his visit.” Evan sits across from me, shaking his head. His shoulders slump. “I swear to God, Dash, I didn’t know. About the wedding, about that fucking Irish diseased dicksmear, about any of it.”
“I know you didn’t.” I remember how surprised and angry he was the night of the wedding. Evan’s clever, but he couldn’t have faked that. “I don’t blame you even a little bit. How have things been here with me gone?”
“Tense,” he admits. “I flipped out when I heard what happened. He tried to hide it, but you know, he came back—” He gestures at his face, meaning, beat to hell. “And when he told me the truth, I lost it.”
“Where is he now?”
“Doing his rounds.”
“I want to talk to him. Think you could call and tell him I’m here?”
Evan shrugs, looking uncertain. “You sure about that? I mean, I feel like it might be better if you visited without the old prick ruining it.”
“Listen, I’m so happy we got to see each other, but I came for him. Would you mind?”
He smirks slightly and drinks his tea. “Should’ve known. My sister, coming to visit me? Never in a million years.”
“Evan—”
“I’m teasing. I’m honestly just happy you’re out and about.” He pauses as he pushes to his feet. “I mean, you are out and about?”
“More than I ever was before,” I say with a smile, and I really mean it. “I’m going to check out my old room.”
“All right, I’ll go track down the old man. I’m sure he’ll be interested in talking.”
I head upstairs while Evan makes his calls. A strange wave of sadness rushes over me, tinged by a sepia-toned nostalgia.
If I hadn’t married Tigran, where would I be right now?
I step into my old suite and look around the deeply, sadly familiar living area.
It feels so drab. Same old couch, same old table. Same TV, magazines, books, and carpet. It’s so much smaller now, at least compared to the suite back home.
But it’s also mine. This was my space for twelve years. The reading nook. The me-shaped indent on the far end of the couch. Pictures from high school on the bookcases, little collectible Tamagotchi toys I got super into ordering for a while. The strange stages of my life laid out like rock strata. I can almost trace the way I’ve changed from year to year just based on the books on the shelves.
The bedroom’s the same. Bathroom too. Like Dad never bothered to come in here after I left. There are a few things I want to take back with me, and I find a bag in the closet. Old yearbooks tumble out and I smile to myself. Tigran will get a kick out of pictures of awkward teenage me. I lose track of time reminiscing, hating myself for wasting so much time in here and generally letting a wave of strange emotion flood over me, and I don’t hear the door open until my father appears in my bedroom door.
He looks in at me. His nose is healed, but there’s still a bump on the bridge where it snapped. The bruises on his neck are long faded now. But there’s something new on him I haven’t seen before.
Fear, genuine fear.
“Hello, Dad.” I stand up and toss the packed bag onto my bed. “The place is just like I left it.”
“I kept it this way in case you decided to come home.” He frowns at me but doesn’t move to come closer. “I saw your husband out front. He didn’t come in?”
“I’m here on my own.” I stare at my father and harness all those emotions I’ve been dealing with. My anger, my sadness. So much missed opportunity, so many good years flushed into seclusion.
Dad nods, looking old and small. He lifts his hands and flexes his fingers. “I hear you’re pregnant.” He lets his palm drop. “Congratulations, Dashenka.”