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Something Magical Part 18

For the last week I have been stuck to Adam like glue. Hip to hip we stick, not leaving each other until we have to pull apart at my porch step. Kind of like when a month and a week ago we parted, except when we leave each other now we know that tomorrow we will snap back together tomorrow. Today, Adam’s kiss presses against my cheek, spurring hope of seeing him tomorrow into me.
“Bye, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Adam asks and I nod, the answer being obvious.
“Of course.” I whisper before I shut the door. He doesn’t leave until he is sure I am safe and secure inside my house. What he doesn’t know is that I am more likely to be safe outside where sadness can’t touch me. My mother sits on the couch without a T.V. on to mesmerize her. She stares at it anyways, like it will whisper secrets into her ear; tell her why her babies left her in such a horrid way, without her knowing.
My dad is hidden in his room; he hasn’t talked to my mom or me since we witnessed him sobbing in the waiting room. He hasn’t done anything to help my mom get through this. All too suddenly anger flows through me. He acts as if it is my mother’s fault along with mine that this has happened! I want to remind him that we have lost them too. Walking up the stairs I take a turn for his room. I turn the doorknob, even though I had the suspicion it was locked. My dad must’ve heard it because I can hear the slush of wine bottles as the covers of the bed flip over and I hear him shuffle to the door. Opening it a crack maybe a couple inches wide, I can see the just ‘gorgeous’ arrangement of beer cans on the floor and a couple wine glasses on his nightstand and sheets. Smelling alcohol on his breath, I back away from the door a step. I must be scowling because my dad growls from his side of the door.
“What’s your problem?” he says, “Why are you staring at me like that?” he snarls and I shrug my shoulders.
“Is mom going to sleep in here tonight?” I ask, along with an unspoken question that consists of the words, will and you and let and her.
“She hasn’t been wanting to, ask her.” He growls some more. Slamming the door in my face, I can feel the house rattle. My mom can too by the look of sadness on her face. I can see her reaction from a mirror that shows me a perfect view of the living room; she doesn’t know I can see a tear streak down her face.
“Well that’s kind of hard to do with the door locked!” I yell, and I can hear my dad huff a mad ‘I don’t give a s***’ in his room. That’s when I get furious. I start to pound my fists of hammers into the door. I scream, “We miss them too!” over and over and over again, losing my breath until I loose all my strength. I slump onto the wall across from my parent’s door and start to sob. So much for a day without crying, I think to myself. My shoulders seize and shake with each breath until light fingers curl around my shoulder blades. I look up to see my mother.

“I miss them too.” She whispers and then picks me up as if I were a baby, carrying me downstairs to the couch.

After an awkward silence of thirty minutes my mom speaks.

“It was going to be a girl and two boys.” She says, smiling wistfully, twisting her fingers around one another, distracting herself from crying like how I sometimes still do when I am around Adam. “I could feel it.” She says, and then, a tear slides down her cheek and I catch it with my pinky, rubbing it off on my knee that is covered in a crochet blanket my mother had wrapped me in.
“I thought it was going to be an alien.” I smile and she laughs.
“Why did you think that?” she laughs, saying it with an evenly toned voice.
“Because Adam missed a couple baskets, so we determined it was an alien.” I say and she smiles.
“Well, at this point I would take even an alien, Nichole.” She smiles as more tears fall, and I don’t catch them. I stand up and offer a hand, along with a promise to stand by her from now on. Would Adam think this was ok?
“Come on.” I say. “We are going for a ride and I am driving.” I say. And before she can finish asking me what we are doing, I tell her, “I have to make you acknowledge something.”

We open the front door. We walk down our driveway, and we hop into the car.



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