BABY GIRL

2.

Maggie

By the time I drop my duffel in Ana’s room and change into clean clothes, my body feels like someone else’s. Like I borrowed it from a stranger who’s also pretending they’re not falling apart.

Ana doesn’t ask me any questions. She just scrolls through her phone like I didn’t just move into her life with a single text.

She only speaks after I’ve shoved half my things into a drawer I probably shouldn’t be using.

“Nate’s coming home tonight,” she says, casual as anything.

I blink. “Seriously?”

She nods, still focused on her screen. “Dad went to get him a while ago.”

Right.

Nate.

Ana’s younger brother.

“How’s he doing?” I ask, mostly because I don’t know what else to say.

She sighs, and for the first time, she speaks with some element of seriousness. “They said he’s doing better now. He’s still on meds and therapy, but they think he’s ready.”

I don’t respond. Not immediately. My mind is already replaying old versions of Nate. Sweet, talkative and smarter than his age mates. I wonder if he’ll still be as adorable as he use to be.

But then, I remember the last time I saw him. The complete mental breakdown he had at their Mom’s funeral. It was something I witnessed, but I never had the courage to ask Ana what that episode was.

“I’m gonna go clean out his room before they come back.” Ana says.

“Do you need me to help?”

She glances up. “You don’t have to. Aren’t you too tired for today?”

“Not at all,” I say, already moving toward the door. “Let’s just get it over with.”

***

Nate’s room looks like it had been frozen in time. It smells like dust and there’s no ventilation, the air is very choking. First thing I do is open up the windows.

Then I look around. The walls are covered in faded space posters and comic book art. His small corner bed is stripped bare, the bookshelf half-collapsed and a pile of textbooks sitting dusty on top of his study table. There’s a hoodie slung across the study chair that probably hasn’t been worn in over a year.

I watch Ana as she start gathering up the dirty laundry.

We don’t talk much. There’s something about the room that makes me feel a little cautious and tensed. Maybe because I’m worried about Ana, and all the memories that must be floating in her mind right now.

“I forgot how much he liked comics,” I say after a while, pulling a stack off the floor and setting it aside.

Ana snorts under her breath. “He used to tape them under his bed whenever he invited his friends so that none of them would ask to borrow.”

I managed a chuckle.

We finish up quietly. I light a small scented candle I found on his bookshelf. Ana mutters a thanks as she flops down on Nate’s bed, arms spread out like a starfish.

I sit on the floor and lean my back against the wall.

It’s quiet for a while.

A little too quiet again.

***

Later in the evening, I’m at the kitchen counter in shorts and a tank top, elbow-deep in tomatoes. I’m good at making a stew and I wanted to help Ana make something for dinner. We decided on Pasta and tomato stew. Ana is mixing up the vegetables and carrots together with some mayonnaise.

“Tomorrow’s Monday. Ugh!” Ana mutters under her breath.

“Me too hun,” I sigh. “I didn’t want to remember that tomorrow’s Monday but thanks for bringing it up.”

“Haha, you’re welcome,” she says, flicking a bit of mayonnaise at me. “I hope you’re not planning to skip again.”

“That depends on how I wake up tomorrow.”

“Girl, you’re in my house. You think I’d let you skip school without a valid reason?”

I flick a slice of tomato at her. She dodges like a ninja. “I don’t need Mommying if that’s even a word.”

We’re still bickering when the front door flies open.

“Ana?”

A voice I don’t recognize.

I freeze as he walks in.

Ana jumps up with excitement.

Wow. Is that Nate? Oh yes it is. Maybe not the Nate I know. This one is definitely much more taller, nearly his dad’s height. His arms have one hell of a definition. His hair’s longer, finer. His jawline’s sharp and shadowed with what’s clearly the stubbles of a beard.

And his eyes — completely different. Dark and unfamiliar.

“Holy s**t Nate,” Ana says, rushing to give him a hug. “You weren’t supposed to come on your own. Dad’s on his way to get you.”

“I didn’t want to wait,” he replies flatly as he reluctantly hugs her back.

I watch his eyes move past her, now on me.

And he stares, gaze slowly trailing from my face downward to my neck, chest, hips, legs and thighs before coming back up with a frown.

Doesn’t he recognize me?

“Hey,” I offer first, trying to sound chill despite his unwelcoming gaze. “Welcome home.”

He says nothing. Just pulls away from his sister and motions towards the corridor and up he goes for the stairs.

Ana sighs. “Sorry. He’s… you know, a bit different now. Probably readjusting.”

“Yeah I get it,” I say, even though my stomach’s suddenly full of cold water. “No problem at all.”

Ten minutes later, I’m in the dining room alone, laying out forks and plates and trying to act like everything is perfectly fine and not weird at all. Heck, what was that with Nate?

I’m still trying to understand what that look meant. Was he uncomfortable with my presence because he was not expecting it?

I lift a glass cup from the dining and somehow, it slips and crashes to the floor.

“s**t—” I drop to my knees instantly. “God. Crap. I’m so stupid.”

I start grabbing the glass with my bare hands, without even thinking about it.

Then I feel movements behind me before a pair of calloused hands gently takes hold of my wrists.

“Those pieces could hurt you.”

It’s David.

I jerk a little as I readjust my position to look behind. Suddenly, his face is just inches away and I could literally feel the warmth of his breath and his aura is just too strong. Too intense. Probably all in my head but…