On the Outside

dont judge a book by its a cover

  “Devon Adams Archer! Where the hell have you been?”

             I shut the door behind me and kicked off my shoes and socks, a puddle gathering around each one from the extended exposure to the weather. The house was warm and smelled of freshly microwaved ramen noodles. Mom didn’t know how to cook anything on the stove, or anything homemade. Thus, every night was take-out or microwaveable frozen food. Our house emitted the casual suburban home feeling; Perfectly spotless. Every family was ideal on the outside when it came to the suburbs, but each one also had a skeleton in their closet.

                “I’m sorry, mom. I had to stay after school. I didn’t get a chance to call. I’m sorry,” I lied. Well, it wasn’t entirely a lie.

                She sighed and plopped down on the couch. She looked exhausted. Her mousey brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail with several strands falling over her sweat covered face.  

"I'm sorry. But you know how worried I get," she said, breaking in a small, tiresome smile.

"I understand mom. I'm sorry." 

Ever since dad had died,  Mom had become extremely over protective. I knew why her nerves were in such a bundle, more so today than usual.

She placed her chin in her hand, propping her elbow on the arm of the sofa couch. Her eyes were heavy and red as she stared out the window into the darkness of the raging West Virginia storm. The rain beat down on the roof, as if the sky was taking out it's rage on us. But what did it have to be angry about? 

"It's been a year today," she finally said, drowning out the harsh drum of rain against the plastic housing panels. She didn't look at me as she spoke, but instead, stared into the night, though I knew the blackness was not what she was seeing. She was seeing Dad. She was watching him swing my younger sister, Kate, on the tire swing in the backyard. She was watching him teach me how to cast a line when we went fishing in the mountains. She was watching him choke out the words 'I do' all while she cried tears of happiness so many years ago. More importantly, she was watching him lie in that hospital bed for four months before the cancer finally over came him. 

I said nothing, but stared at the floor in response. He was a great dad. He just couldn't stop smoking. I fought back the tears that threatened to surface, knowing that with their presence showed my weakness. 

"Debbie's home!" an excited voice shrilled. I smiled and tossed the tiny bundle of pink into the air.

"Hey Katie-May!" I cried, spinning her around. She giggled uncontrollably and wrapped her arms around my neck, leaning to kiss my cheek. 

"Debbie! Guess what?" she chuckled, holding her hands behind her back.

Debbie was the nickname she had given me when she turned two. Right now she was three, and had quickly adopted the name 'Katie-May.' Even dad had called her that.

"Well. Dinner's ready. I actually took the time to cook. I'll need to warm it up. We didn't want to eat until you got home. Now, go change, honey." With sadness in her voice, Mom walked into the kitchen, brushing past my  sister and I.

I sat Katie-May down and stumbled upstairs to my room. I stripped down to my underwear and collapsed onto the bed, my muscles sighing in relief at the cotton comfort. I glanced over at the photo of my father, Katie, mom, and myself. It was taken on our vacation to Malibu three months before we discovered his fate. Turning away before my emotions over took me, I slipped on a pair of pajama pants and a black t-shirt and hurried downstairs to join what was left of my family for dinner.