A Letter Away From You

Chapter 15

"My dear, do you think this dress is too big for me?" Mom brooded over what dress to wear for her date night. And me? All I care about is what food she'll be bringing me when she gets home.

"The red one." I flicked my finger to the luscious but appropriate gown she's been hanging on her left hand. "Do you really have to go?" My head reclined on her shoulder in an attempt to make her stay the night.

Clutching my hands on her two sets of arms, I roped her position towards the mirror. It reflected the wavy hair I'd been grooming her for almost an hour. A hundred dollars wouldn't even pay enough for the stunning service I've showcased.

Perming, ironing, shampoo, and even a massage. A complete package indeed. But what sets me apart is the love I've included in my craft; her smile results from it.

Love hearts were displayed in my eyes, marveling at the sight of a bright sunflower. "You look amazing."

"Thank you, dear, but you know it's just seldom that Dan takes me out." Mom grabbed the palm of my hand as she left it with a subtle peck. I frowned my eyebrows as the lipstick was imprinted on top. We just giggled our way out of it.

"Okay, just don't get home late." I shoved her off with my own gift, shaping my hand from my lips into a flying kiss.

Mom just winked at me as she went out through the front door. Dan was there, cozy in his 5-seater Jeep Wrangler.

He just waved at me as I replied with a "hello" gesture myself.

"Don't forget about Gibs, I love you!" Her words still reached me even from meters away. The engine burst out into the snug nights of New York, with each pump of gas a world without limits was awaiting them.

I didn't like Dan even a bit when we first met. My mind couldn't fathom the idea of having another Dad than the one I lost.

I felt betrayed. It wasn't a sin for Mom to remarry; I was not just ready. I experienced nights slamming myself at Mom, questioning her own decisions.

Although it was tough at first, their relationship brought me a blessing. An angel in disguise. He sleeps like an angel, even baby-talks like one. Not that I know how angels sound like.

I take my grasp into the body of a 4-year-old Gibson, a body so brittle it might shatter anytime.

"Did you sleep well, my potato munchkin?" My face clasped into the belly of my brother, tickling him the way he wants it. My body had grown familiar with the ambiance in Gibs' room. Taking a whiff, the smell being a merry of raspberries and a hint of pineapple. Mom might have gone overboard with the room fresheners, this place could feel like Hawaii anytime.

The little boy was tightening his grip on my shoulder as I carry him outside of his chamber. He acts like a prince, but he's the only person I'll allow myself to serve. I may not just be her sister, a princess at that. But also a maiden willing to feed the nourishment this young master would ever need.

"I want berry nana." Gibs drew his head towards my cheek, with a plan to maybe put me in an incantation for his favorite fruit.

I'd still give you your berries, young boy. You need those for vitamins.

"Your wish is my command." I just played along with our act of royalty. He seemed to grin a little, and I had no slightest idea they were capable of that. This boy sure is growing up.

We tip-toed our way down through the stairs as if we were playing snakes and ladders, but in real life. With each step I made, I could feel the weight in my arms get heavier. If there was one downfall to the majesty of this young man, it was that in his own world, our antique stairs are inviting him to a 200 feet fall.

"We're at the living room now Gibs." I shifted my eyes towards the frightened boy, with his two hands covering the little pockets in his eyes. He slowly opened his eyelids to discover the background has already changed.

"Down nana." Wiggling his tiny legs, I let him go as he rushed quickly to his most favorite part of the room; the place where the television is, his toys, and his tablet.

Well for me, I headed to the kitchen to grab ourselves something to munch on. A bowl of cereal with berries on the side was on the menu for my brother and a bag of barbecue popcorn for me. A cup of these little pops of goodness is my go-to snack.

I set the uncooked kernels and planted them in the microwave for cooking. An aroma zoomed in on all four corners of the room, a medley of butter and corn, it slapped me back to my senses. The senses I lost a while ago.

I never thought an email like that was even possible. Out of my pocket, I reached for the phone holding news which startled me in the gym hours before. I couldn't discern what jack in the box surprised me more, the invitation to the theater club, or this email.

"Emails have been retrieved: This is an automated message, there is no need to reply."