"How was your trip?" my dad greeted us at the door once we arrived back home.
"Exhausting," my mother chuckled. "But also… kind of calming. I think we needed that trip to reflect on some things."
He just nodded before he looked me up and down. I just raised an eyebrow at him. "Meet me in the kitchen." And then he just turned away and walked off.
This kind of didn't feel like my father anymore. I looked at my mom, and she shrugged. If she realized how Dad had changed? Or was it just me?
Whatever it was, I walked over into the kitchen where my father was brewing a cup of coffee. "So," he started.
"I know," I cut him off. "I'll be moving out tomorrow," I said, without letting him get a word in. He turned around and looked at me, confused, before his gaze hardened.
"Your mother told you," he concluded.
"Yeah, but even if she didn't, I'd move. I know you want me out, and seeing how things are going currently, that's probably for the best."
He nodded, but he seemed to be lost in thought. I guess, of all the possible ways he had envisioned how this conversation could have gone, this was not part of any possibility in his mind. But it was what it was.
"Where do you want to move?" he asked.
"My parents left him their house," my mom chimed in once she made it to the kitchen. My dad knitted his brows together.
"That's far away."
I shrugged. "Yeah."
We all fell silent – and before it dragged on for too long, I turned around to leave the kitchen again. "I'm in my room packing." And with that, I left.
I could hear my parents talking downstairs for a while. I even left the door to my room open in hopes of hearing something specific, but their voices were too low to hear anything other than a few odd words here and there. Something about how unexpected it was that my grandparents left me their house, and that Dad had assumed they would just leave me some money and call it a day.
His voice did get a little louder in his anger about the secrecy, how I had not told them why I had an appointment with the attorney - but that was about it. There was a lot more I couldn't understand properly once his voice calmed down again. But fine. It wasn't like anything could change my mind now.
It was far away, yes. I could have sold the house and could have bought something smaller, closer, more modern, but I didn't want to. Something compelled me to move into that house, to keep the family heirloom within the family. And that's what I would do.
This night was even more restless than most others. I didn't sleep at all, despite the fact that I had been awake all day long. In the past 3 days, I had roughly slept 8 hours in total. Even back at my grandparents' place, I couldn't sleep. Even less so with my mom in the same room.
But it was different now. I packed everything I owned. Mom had agreed to drive once more. And as ordered, a moving van was sitting in our driveway the next morning. Mom had organized it on our way back, and just a few hours later, we were on the move again. This time, with everything I owned loaded in the back.
And my dad? My dad gave me nothing but a dry "bye" and a nod before we drove off. He felt estranged, but I was too focused on getting this all over with to notice it. No. I did notice it. But I didn't bother at that moment.
"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Mom asked me.
"Yes. I am." I tried to reassure her again.
"You know, if anything happens… It's just so far away."
"I know."
"I'm worried."
"You don't have to be. I'll be fine. And if I'm not, I'll call you. Promise."
She smiled faintly, but she wasn't buying it fully. I could tell by the way the corners of her mouth twitched. "Alright. Speaking of it, you'll have to get a new phone service as soon as possible, you hear me?"
Oh, the worries of a mother. But after my dad had been so distant, I felt like I was connecting with my mother for the first time in a long time. "I will. And you'll be the first I call." I smiled at her, and she returned it.
At some point, I dozed off for a restless hour or two. When I woke up again, Mom had just pulled into a drive-in to get something to eat for the rest of the way. Somehow… it felt nice? We hadn't talked much the past years, we were drifting more and more apart, and I felt like it was harder to talk with her with each passing day.
And it still was, kind of. I couldn't really talk about my struggles, my sorrows, mental health – but we could talk about grandma and grandpa, the house, the things I'll have to do, small, mundane things.
Sad, really.
All it took for my mother and me to reconnect was my grandparents' death.
And still, it felt good. It felt good to talk with her, to see her smile, to joke around, to reminisce about old times, to listen to her speak about her childhood. It was nice listening to her memories, her thoughts, her sorrows.
It was nice to hear that she cared. For her parents. And for me.
"Huh?" Mom leaned forward while driving. I followed her gaze.
There was someone standing in my grandparents'…. MY driveway. "Who's that?" I asked.
"Maybe someone from the attorney's office," my mom said, before she pulled over to park.
That person… did not look like they came straight from an attorney's office. They looked like a gardener in fashion and like a model in appearance. He was tall, handsome, with perfectly cut blond hair, blue eyes, and an elegance in stride I hadn't seen before.
"Hello? Can I help you?" my mom called over the moment she opened the door of the van. We both climbed out of the black vehicle.
"Oh, my. I was looking for the Wells." He flashed a smile our way that seemed too perfect.
"… I'm sorry to inform you, but they passed two months ago," my mother told him, calmly. "Did you know them?" she asked. She seemed calm, yes, but I could tell she was suspicious.
"Passed?" He looked genuinely confused. "How devastating," he mumbled just loud enough for me to hear as we got closer. "Not personally, I'm afraid," he spoke once we caught up to him.
"Why are you looking for them, then?" I asked, just as skeptical as my mother.
"They were friends of my family. See, my family traveled a lot, and back in the days, the Wells housed them. I was told to come visit them if I should ever be close by. And it just so happened that I am very close by now, as you can tell." He seemed joking, but there was something weird about him. Perfect hair, perfect smile, but his speech… it didn't sound perfect, it didn't feel right. It felt rehearsed, studied, learned by heart. Not the content, but the words.
"Are you from another country?" I asked, without even thinking about it.
"Oh, you're a sharp one, aren't you? Indeed. That's why I was hoping to find the Wells. It's been a long journey."
Well, maybe that explained why he sounded so… learned. But something still felt off.
"I'm sorry," my mom repeated. "I fear you can't be housing here. We're just moving in." She pulled me closer, draping her arm over my shoulder to squeeze me like only a mother could squeeze her child.
"Just you and your son?" he asked. What kind of creepy question was that?
My mom laughed. "No, my husband will join us after work, and his parents will be moving in, too. It's a pretty big house, so we intend to make it a home body for the whole family." She improvised, and she improvised well. Never let creepy strangers know that you're alone, I guess.
"Ah, well, I hope the house treats you and your family well then. I am sorry to have bothered you, but I will need to find a place to stay for the night. I wish you a wonderful day and a good move," he smiled at both of us. For a split second, I caught a glimpse of his teeth. They looked sharp. Like the teeth of a predator. I felt goosebumps all over my body.
"There's a nice hotel a mile down the road." My mom pointed in the direction. "Have a good stay."
"My, thank you." He nodded at us before he finally walked away. I could feel my mother tremble next to me, her arm still resting on my shoulder, holding on, grounding herself, making sure I was close enough not to get lost.
"Mom," I called out to her. "Mom?"
"…"
"Mom!" I got louder, but not too loud, and finally, she snapped out of it.
"Sorry, darling. I must be exhausted from the ride. Let's get your things inside."
Once again, I wanted to ask her, but I didn't. I never did.
Maybe I should have.
We stood there for a while longer before my mom finally moved, and we got the smallest boxes from the van to bring them inside. We piled them all in the hallway before we started to sort through them. It wasn't just my stuff. Mom had stuffed everything she didn't need anymore into the van.
She knew that the house was fully stocked, and still, she wouldn't take no for an answer. She had given me boxes full of bed linen, pillow cases, duvets, and bedcovers, and even more boxes full of assorted cutlery, plates, dishes, bowls, and cutting boards. There were even two huge plants she wanted me to have. She had emptied everything at home she could spare to give it to me for my first own place.
I appreciated it more than I thought I ever would. Having a little bit of home with me until this place would start to feel like my new home was valuable. After sorting everything out, we made a trip to the store to get the fridge filled up. Since it would take a little longer for the documents I had just signed to be processed, my mom had to pay for it, but she insisted on it anyway.
Somehow… I wished she would stay. At that very moment, I didn't miss my father at all, and having her around felt normal, secure, grounding. But I knew she couldn't stay. She had to go back home, back to work, back to her duties.
So when the next morning rolled around, we said our goodbyes. And other than my dad, she gave me a tight hug and made me promise time and time again to call her as soon as possible and to keep her updated.
I promised.