Four
1163 Words
ARDEN
Dad grunted as he lifted the last box from the trunk of his old Chevy, the one that rattled like it might fall apart on every turn. I held a duffel bag against my chest, trying not to breathe too deeply. The stale smell of beer clung to his clothes. It always did.
He followed me up the sidewalk, through the foyer, and into a corridor that buzzed faintly from lights. The walls were painted a dull white,it was chipped in places, and the carpet was a pale blue-gray that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since the nineties.
My room was three doors down. Inside, the air felt heavier—old, lived-in. White cinderblock walls. A rectangle of space with two beds, two dressers, two closets.
My eyes landed on the window first: double-paned glass overlooking a cluster of trees that reached toward the sky. I guessed in the fall it would all turn gold and orange. For now, it was just green.
I stepped in slowly, almost like I was trespassing. One bed had already been claimed. White duvet tucked tight, pillows stacked neatly. A couple of boxes sat beside it, one half-open with clothes spilling out. My roommate, I remembered.
The email from admissions had said her name was Juniper Leigh. She’d messaged me once on i********:, typing with a lot of emojis, telling me she was “so excited” to meet me. I hadn’t replied.
Dad set the box on the empty dresser and swiping his forehead with the back of his hand. His eyes were bloodshot, and not from lack of sleep.
“Well.” His voice cracked in the middle of the word. “Here it is.”
“Yeah,” I said. My throat was dry. “Here it is.”
There was silence The kind that made my skin itch.
He rocked on his heels, eyes flicking around the room like he was searching for something to fix. A picture to hang.Something that didn’t exist. His hand went automatically to his jacket pocket, and I knew what was there. The flask.
I set my duffel down and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress groaned under my weight. “You don’t have to stay long,” I told him.
He gave me a sharp look, like I’d just shoved him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I just… I’ll be fine. You don’t need to hover.”
“I’m not hovering.” He spoke softer“I’m just making sure you’re settled.”
Settled. As if that was something he’d ever been.
I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. My stomach twisted. He wanted to be useful, I knew that. But I also knew that the second he walked out those doors, he’d find the nearest liquor store. Maybe he already had.
A sound drifted in from the hall—someone dragging a heavy box. It made the silence between us even louder.
I looked up at him, and for a moment I saw not the man with the flask in his pocket but the one from when I was little. The one who used to carry me on his shoulders down the boardwalk, pointing at the ocean like it belonged to us.
“You think Mom would like this place?” I asked before I could stop myself.
His face stiffened and He didn’t answer right away. Then: “She’d say it smells like mildew.”
A laugh slipped out of me. “Yeah. She would.”
We didn’t talk about her much anymore. Not since she left. He’d say she was restless, that she wanted more than what we could give her. But I never really believed him. Sometimes I thought he said it to convince himself.
He rubbed his jaw. “You’ve got her eyes, you know that?”
I looked away, focusing on the wall. My chest felt tight. “You’ve said that before.”
“Because it’s true.” He cleared his throat“You’re gonna do good here, Arden. Better than I ever did anywhere.”
I swallowed. My tongue felt heavy. “Thanks, Dad.”
He nodded, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. His shoulders sagged,it was almost like the words had drained the last bit of energy out of him. “I should get going before traffic.”
I almost said You don’t have to leave yet. But the truth was—I wanted him to. For both our sakes.
I stood and crossed the room. We hugged, it was awkward and stiff, like two strangers learning how. His breath was warm against my hair.
“I love you, kid,” he murmured.
“I love you too,” I whispered back.
He squeezed my shoulder once before stepping away. “Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“Yeah. I will.”
He left without looking back. I stood there, listening as his footsteps faded down the hall. The door clicked shut, and the room seemed to grow larger without him in it.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and flopped backward onto the mattress. The springs squeaked. The ceiling above me was covered with faint stains.
For a while, I just lay there, staring. Thinking about Mom. About Dad. About how far away everything felt.
The door creaked open. I got up immediately
A girl bounced in, she was carrying a laundry basket filled with throw blankets and stuffed animals. She had curly auburn hair piled into a messy bun and wore a bright yellow hoodie with Stormpoint Dance Team stitched across the chest.
“Hi!” she said, her voice was bubbling with energy. “You must be Arden. I’m June. Well—Juniper, technically, but no one calls me that unless I’m in trouble.”
Her grin was so wide it was almost disarming.
“Uh. Hey,” I managed.
She dropped the basket onto her bed and looked around like she was already making plans to redecorate. “Okay, so—I know I kind of moved in early, but I left space for you, promise. And I brought string lights! I think they’ll make the room feel less… prison-y.”
I blinked at her. “Yeah. That’s… good.”
June laughed, tossing a blanket onto her bed. “Don’t worry, I’ll tone down the enthusiasm if it freaks you out.” She winked, then waved toward the door.
“I’m gonna give you a minute with your stuff, okay? Totally understand you probably need to breathe after saying goodbye to your dad. My mom cried so hard when she left me here, it was like Niagara Falls.”
“Thanks,” I said quietly.
She flashed me another grin before slipping back out.
The door clicked shut. There was silence again.Only this time, it didn’t feel as heavy.
- Writer
