23. Amelia

Amelia (Habits by Genevieve Stokes)

Now, I’m not a nerd—not even close—but I’ve know this quote by Edward Murphy since I was ten, when Dad taped it to the fridge under a pizza magnet.

If everything seems to be going well, you obviously don’t know what’s going on.

I used to laugh.

Then, two years later, the night Mum went into labor, it stopped being funny.

I squint my eyes open at the sound of my phone ringing. Blindly, I reach out from underneath the sheets and pat along the bedside drawer for my phone. Upon feeling it, I take it and swipe the answer icon groggily.

I place the phone to my ear without saying anything.

Three seconds pass and my eyes widen at once, all residue of sleep fleeing my body.

I jump up from the bed and hurry out of the bedroom.

Everett's calling me but I'm so... disoriented.

Oh God, no.

My hands are shaking as I shuffle through my wardrobe and throw on any clothes I can find.

"Babe, what's wrong? What's the matter?" Everett barges in, his voice filled with concern.

I have to go... I have to go. My lips quiver uncontrollably.

He swiftly closes in and embraces me, stroking the back of my head. "Calm down, baby. Calm down. I'm here, okay? I'm here for you."

My throat is uncomfortable...

"I've got you, baby. Talk to me."

Hot sobs stream down my face at once. "M-my dad. H-he's in the hospital." My mouth trembles.

He inhales sharply as he pulls back.

"I'm so sorry, Heart. He'll be fine. I promise."

He turns to leave my room but then takes my hand and leads the way to his room. He puts on clothes and grabs some stuff from the drawer before taking my hand again and leading the way out of the house.

In no time, we're on the road to Westside, Gladdis shrinking in the rearview mirror.

The drive is eerily silent and fast. The moment we arrive at the hospital, I rush in quickly—Everett follows suit shortly afterwards.

The nurses direct us to Dad's ward and as soon as I enter, I rush to his side.

My daddy. Tears form in my eyes.

His eyes are closed and his face is so pale yet peaceful.

Everett's hand rests on my shoulder.

"He's fine. Only sleeping." I look up beside me and find a woman smiling at me.

Aunt Valerie. I rush into her arms and hug her, sobbing silently.

"It's okay, dear. He's fine. The doctor says he can be discharged once he wakes up. He passed out from fatigue."

I swallow, muffling my sobs with my hands.

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have moved out." I whisper, sniffing.

I was selfish. I barely even make it home on the weekends as I promised.

"No, it's not, Amelia."

My head snaps toward the bed and I find Dad staring at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Dad." I move to his side immediately, crouching. "Are you okay?" I take his hand in mine.

He nods. "I'm very good, baby. And this is not your fault. It was only stress. I'll be fine, okay?"

I pout. "Okay."

A short while later, the doctor comes to check up on him. He prescribes some medicine and then confirms Dad's fit to be discharged. Afterwards, we all head home in Everett's truck.

"Be good, okay?" Everett says to me before leaving.

He doesn't head back to Oakswood, though. He stays at his place, right next to us.

"Just call me and I'll be right here, okay?"

"Okay."

He pats my head and then leaves.

Shortly after we enter the house, Charles and Ana come barreling in from school—together, as always. Dad's eaten and is already fast asleep.

My brother is surprised and excited to see me, of course. “Amelia!”

“Hey, Chipmunk!”

Anastasia’s excited too.

Charles talks my ear off straight through dinner, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Afterwards, I tend to the kids while Aunt Valerie stays at Dad's bedside.

I'm super thankful for her. Ever since Mum passed away, she's been the mother figure in both mine and Charles' lives. Even though Dad is sometimes unfair to her...

After putting the kids to bed at night, I check up on Dad and find him asleep. Aunt Valerie has also fallen asleep beside him on the chair. My mouth twitches at the sight of their hands—hers laid gently atop his on the blanket.

Silently, I close the door and make my way to my room. I look out the window and find the light in Everett's room is still on—and his window is open. Heaving a sigh, I enter the bathroom for a thorough bath.

After I'm done, I throw on a hoodie and a pair of soft sleep shorts, then climb out my window. I make my way through the flower beds to my boyfriend's window and climb in.

The moment my feet land on the floor, warm hands wrap around me.

I grin. Clearly, he’s been expecting me.

I breathe in his scent, burying my face in his chest as I melt into his embrace.

"I missed you," I murmur.

He pulls back and smiles at me. "I've missed you more, my Heart."

Soon, we're cuddled up in his bed.

My mind subconsciously trails off to what I saw earlier...

"You know Aunt Valerie likes Dad, right?"

"I think the entire neighborhood knows except Mr. Edward." Everett chuckles.

True. Aunt Valerie lives just down the street. She's been there for my family since... honestly, since Mum. Nine years ago, while she was still pregnant with Anastasia, her husband cheated and absconded with another woman—the same year we lost Mum. The whole street watched the two of them hold each other up after that. Rides, repairs, school runs, breakfasts. Everything, really, except the one thing they've never said to each other.

My eyes narrow. "He knows too... he's just been avoiding her."

"Or he's not avoiding her," Everett says. "He's avoiding what happens if he stops."

I turn that over. "It's been nine years, Ev."

"Nine years is long enough to get good at being alone." He presses a kiss into my hair. "It's not your job to fix him, Heart."

"I know." I trace circles on his chest. "But maybe it's my job to tell him it's okay to be happy."

"Then tell him." His voice is already going sleepy at the edges. "First thing tomorrow.”

***

Very early the following morning, I kiss my handsome sleeping boyfriend and scurry back to my room. A few hours later, I'm rattling Charles and Ana awake, dressing them for school and sending them off on the bus with lunches they'll probably trade anyway.

The day passes in a blur. By evening, Dad is thoroughly sick of being fussed over—which is exactly when Aunt Valerie decides she's overstayed.

She gathers her things for the third time.

She's been hovering all day—refilling his water, fluffing his pillows, and glaring at his medicine bottles like they've personally wronged her.

"We should get going," she says.

"You've been saying that since noon," Dad says, eyes on the TV.

"And you've been pretending not to need me since the hospital."

I could swear I just saw Dad smile.

Then, gently, he says, “go home, Val. You've done more than enough. You don't have to keep doing all this. I'm not dying; I'm just tired."

"Right. Of course." She smooths her skirt twice and gathers her purse. "Call me if you need anything."

"There's a whole hospital for that."

Aunt Valerie laughs and lets herself and Ana out.

The door clicks shut, and I turn to face Dad slowly, the way you'd turn toward a horror movie villain.

He feels it.

His eyes slide to me, then back to the TV. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't look at me like that, Amelia."

"Like what? This is just my face."

"Your face is doing a sermon."

I sit on the arm of his chair. "Dad. Aunt Valerie is a nice woman."

"She's a good neighbor."

"She slept in a chair all night so you wouldn't wake up alone. She loves you."

He sighs, and the sound is old. "Baby, I know what you're about to say. You've been rehearsing it since you were fifteen."

I put my hands on my hips. Well...

He almost smiles. "Don't."

"Dad. It's been nine years."

He doesn't answer. On the TV, somebody is winning a baking competition.

"I'm not saying forget Mum," I say quietly. "I would never say that. I'm saying—I'm twenty-one. I’m in Uni. now. I'm okay. Charles is not so young anymore either." I take his hand. "You spent nine years making sure we'd never be alone. Mission accomplished. But you're the only one in this family who is alone. And it's on purpose."

"Amelia—"

"You don't have to hold the fort by yourself anymore. The fort is fine."

"Is the fort a metaphor?"

"It's a very sturdy metaphor, yes." I squeeze his fingers. "Who takes care of you, Dad?"

He blinks. "I take care of myself."

"Yeah. That's the problem."

The TV murmurs. Dad rubs his jaw, which is what he does when he's losing an argument and knows it.

"Your mother used to say I was stubborn," he says finally.

"Mum was right about everything. She told me."

He laughs heartily this time then goes quiet, and I watch something move across his face like weather.

"Go make sure Charles isn't still up," he says at last. Which, in Dad, is practically a signed resignation.

I'm halfway to the stairs when he calls my name.

"Amelia."

"Yeah?"

He's looking at the door. "Val's casserole. Is there any left?"

I smile so hard my face hurts. "Tons."

On my way to Charles’ room, I pass the fridge. The old quote is still there.

My nose scrunched up, I tear it off.