Shortly after West departed, Brixton followed suit, leaving Blue and me in solitude.
The atmosphere felt strangely dense, so I contemplated ways to lift the mood, although I was at a loss for where to begin.
Just then, Blue flashed me a cheeky smile. "Hey, Blossom, since we're both loaded now, let's totally hit up a shopping spree!"
I chuckled in response. "Blue, you're such a typical teenager; your mind's always on shopping."
*I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for her-she didn't know much about Dad, who was perpetually occupied. I could only imagine that she feels worse than I do; I'm determined to shower her with the love she missed out on from him. I realize now that I hadn't fully appreciated her until this moment, and that's truly disappointing.*
Blue pretended to be offended. "Hey, shopping is a legitimate hobby! And besides, I need to update my wardrobe. I'm so sick of wearing the same old things."
I chuckled. "Well, I'm happy to enable your shopping addiction. But only if you promise to try on some ridiculous outfits and make funny faces in the mirror."
Blue squealed with delight. "Deal! And I get to pick out your outfits too!"
I pretended to be horrified. "No way, Blue. I have taste, unlike some people who shall remain nameless."
Blue just laughed. "Oh, come on, Blossom. I'm a great stylist. I've been practicing on my friends at school."
I raised an eyebrow. "Really? And how's that working out for them?"
Blue grinned. "Well, let's just say they're all very... fashionably challenged."
We both burst out laughing, and I was grateful for the lighthearted moment with my little sister.
As we continued to chat, Blue started telling me about her friends at school and the latest gossip. I listened, happy to be a part of her world, even if only for a little while.
At one point, Blue turned to me with a serious look on her face. "Blossom, can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Blue. What's up?"
Blue hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Do you think I'm weird?"
I was taken aback by the question, but I tried to reassure her. "Blue, you're not weird. You're just... uniquely Blue. And that's what makes you so special."
*Saying that, I remember back in the highschool days when I was very insecure and always looking for validation. I had no one close enough to share those burdens with.*
Blue smiled, looking relieved. "Thanks, Blossom. That means a lot coming from you."
I smiled back, feeling grateful for the opportunity to connect with my little sister. "Anytime, Blue. That's what big sisters are for."
* Yes!! Always wanted to say that phrase.*
I turned to Blue with a sly smile. "So, Blue, now that we're all caught up on each other's lives, I have to ask: are there any cute boys at school who've caught your eye?"
Blue's face turned bright red, and she looked down at her feet, trying to hide a smile. "M-maybe," she stammered.
I leaned in, intrigued. "Ooh, spill the beans! Who is he?"
Blue looked up at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "His name is Max, and he's on the school soccer team. He's really cute and funny, and we bonded over our shared love of video games."
*Why does it have to be a cliché boy from the soccer team. Anyways I'm not judging, her choice.*
I grinned, happy for my little sister. "That sounds adorable! I'm glad you're interested in someone."
Just then, I glanced at my watch. "Oh, Blue, it's getting late. Why don't you head home?"
Blue nodded, hugging me quickly. "Okay, thanks Blossom! See you later!"
I smiled and hugged her back. "See you later, kiddo. Drive safe!"
I fell back into the chair feeling a wave of sadness rush in.
Just from the thought of remembering dad was dead.
I looked around the study room, so many memories flooded in, of dad begging me to stay out as he was busy. And I always hated it when he did that.
I slowly got up from the chair, feeling the weight of my grief settling in. I decided to take a walk around the house, hoping to clear my head. As I stepped out of the study, I was immediately hit with a wave of memories.
The hallway, with its elegant chandelier and expensive artwork, seemed to whisper stories of my father's business deals and lavish parties. I remembered the countless times I'd watched him charm his guests, his smile and laughter filling the room.
I walked further, my feet carrying me to the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, transporting me back to lazy Sunday mornings with my father. He'd make pancakes and scrambled eggs, and we'd sit at the kitchen island, talking about our plans for the day.
As I turned the corner, I caught sight of the staircase leading up to the bedrooms. My heart skipped a beat as I remembered the countless times I'd stomped up those stairs, angry at my father for being absent or distant. But I also remembered the times he'd come up to my room, sitting on the edge of my bed, and talking to me about my dreams and aspirations.
I made my way up the stairs, my feet heavy with emotion. As I reached my bedroom door, I felt a lump form in my throat. I pushed open the door, and a wave of memories washed over me.
My bedroom, with its plush carpet and comfortable bed, had been my sanctuary, my escape from the world. I remembered spending hours in here, reading books, listening to music, and dreaming of a different life.
I walked over to my bed, running my hand over the soft blankets. I remembered the times my father had come in here, sitting on the bed, and talking to me about his own dreams and struggles. He'd been a complex man, full of contradictions, but in those moments, he'd been real, vulnerable, and human.
As I stood there, memories flooding my mind, I felt the dam break. Tears streamed down my face, and I collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
I cried for my father, for the pain he'd caused me, for the love we'd shared, and for the memories we'd made. I cried for the loss, the grief, and the uncertainty that lay ahead.
As the tears flowed, I felt my body relax, my muscles releasing the tension they'd held for so long. I curled up on the floor, my head on my knees, and let the tears wash over me.
Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep, surrounded by the memories of my father, my family, and my childhood.
*****
I slowly came to, my mind foggy and my body heavy. I was disoriented, unsure of where I was or how I got there. As I opened my eyes, I saw Vincent's face hovering above me, his eyes filled with concern.
He gently lifted me up and placed me on the bed, his arms cradling me like a child. I felt a sense of safety and comfort in his arms, and for a moment, I forgot about the pain and grief that had consumed me earlier.
As Vincent turned to leave, I subconsciously reached out and grabbed his hand, holding onto it tightly. He noticed my grip and turned back to me, a soft smile on his face.
"Everything's going to be okay," he whispered, his voice low and soothing. He gently caressed my head, his fingers stroking my hair in a gentle, comforting motion.
I felt a lump form in my throat as I looked up at him, my eyes welling up with tears. I didn't know why I was holding onto him, or why I felt so safe in his arms. All I knew was that I didn't want him to leave me, not now, not when I felt so lost and alone.
Vincent seemed to sense my emotions, and he sat back down beside me, his hand still clasped in mine. He didn't say anything, just sat there with me, his presence a comforting reminder that I wasn't alone.