Never Could Have Imagined

   "Welcome home!" Mom's bear hold of an embrace got me before I even gotten into the house. "How long has it been, sugarfoot? Feels like I haven't seen you in ages!" Mom's words spilled out of her, all tracing one breath. Even though her voice picked up octaves when excited, it was still music to my ears. An odd thing mothers had over their children, I suppose.

    Incasing her in my own embrace, my worries melted for a moment that even a smile began to tug at my cheeks. When was the last time I took the time to feel anything? I couldn't remember.

     The house was alight with warm, yellow light. The walls remained a modest auburn, accenting great with the autumn leaves that escorted me up the walkway. Everything felt so much like sickingly sweet nostalgia.

    Burying her face into my chest, she began to hum her delight in her own embarrassing way. I remember as a kid how much it would annoy me, but, in this moment, it's all I want to hear.

    I didn't realize my nose was nuzzled into my mom's low raising crown. At least, not until after I heard my father from the dining room table.

    "You're late, Harley." His gruff voice was just as I remembered it. Stern, yet loving. He would never show it, but I could tell from the words that he missed me just as much as my mother did.

    "Sorry. Got stuck in traffic." At the sight of his life long buddy, Brandy, sitting to his right, a sly smirk traced my lips. "Glad to see your liver is still kicking."

    Through his grumbles, he hid a smile under his trimmed mustache. "Come now, let's dig in. My stomach's been eyeing my back bone ever since your mother took out her famous peach pie."

    Mom let out a giggle and gave me one last squeeze before she backed away. "You've gotten so tiny! Come, eat your fill youngin'."

    Sitting down at the table, I tried to make myself comfortable. The table erupted with small talk: about work, funny jokes, plans for the weekend.

    The dinner table grew to a slow silence, of which the shrill screeching of wooden legs on tile sent every nerve cell in me reiling. "I have an annocement!" Alan stood proudly, his voice giving me chills. His smile was wide, joyous and absolutely wonderful. I felt my breath get caught in my throat, painfully lodged between vocal cords I didn't know existed.

    The very sound threw my mind back to when we first met. I was practicing on the long board I'd gotten for Christmas the year prior. It was my freshmen summer when I messed up so bad that I ran right into a telephone pole. Landing square on my back.

    It didn't take long before a boy offered his hand down to my crumbled form.

    "You cool?"

    He looked nothing but gorgeous, standing above me like he did. Dirty blonde hair brushed to the side, deep, bright green eyes shining effortlessly. He looked like a model just walked right off the magazine.

    Gazing up at him through squinting hazel eyes, I couldn't manage anything but "Cool." I actually had minor fractures in my pelvic crest for the next few months.

    Little did we know that we'd exchange numbers when he came across one another the following week. He'd never understand how fast my heart was beating when he brushed up against my phone to type in his contact info. How it fluttered when I learned his name. Alan.

    I began to remember the time we kissed for the first time. How he tasted like the cigarette we shared. Burnt and slightly of death. The kiss ended as it started, in sickly coughing of fumes. He said to forget it the following day, but how could I? It was everything I never thought I could want.

    From there, the memory of our first "date" came surfacing right after. I spent forever trying to choose the right hoodie, or if I should have worn shorts that night. In the end, he snickered at my "girly" sneakers. I still hate him for that.

    "That's a pretty pair of shoes you got there, Harley." Alan's mocking voice sealed itself a permanent place in my heart.

    "Shut it! I really love these shoes, so leave it." I fought to make myself calm down so I didn't come off as nearly as embarrassed as I felt.

    He straighten himself, clearing his throat, either out of preparation, or purely out of nerves. I watched as if he became a character in a movie, an invisible wall placed between us. I suddenly became unable to interact with anything, just gawking at an ending scene in some cheesy RomCom.

    My eyes could have burned holes from across the family dining table as my parents let curls of smiles play across their lips. I tried forcing a lid onto all the reminiscing that flooded my brain, but it was like trying to shut a door that wasn't there in the first place. Impossible.

    We were celebrating his 21st birthday. He wouldn't, for the life of him, leave me alone until we had tried beer water, aka Bud Light.

    "Why that nasty crap?" I'd ask him on the upteenth time he demanded the beverage. His response was so simple it was stupid.

    "'Cause I need to know what 'crap' tastes like. Duh."

     Alan was an odd fellow. He wanted to experience all the bad, just to laugh at it. Laugh at it 'til it hurt.

    Ironically, the next memory that surfaced was of such an experience. Like any other day, I was hanging out in the room he shared when he moved out. I didn't understand why I felt the need to pull his garment to my nose, or why I breathed it in with one strong breath. It smelled like him, something between a forest and alcohol. I remember it sending me to so many different places all at once, then my body became overwhelmed. That's when Alan walked in, his face in what seemed like utter horror and disgust at the sight.

    "I can explain--" I tried to cover for myself. Anything that came to mind, I spat out in retort.

    Alan tugged his clothing away from my weakening grasp, staring down at me. His body was damp from his morning shower, hair nearly dried. His eyes narrowed, dulled from the raging emotion he refused to show. He knew it was his fault he made me like this.

    "How can you explain that?" He jabbed a pointed index finger at my lap, of which I hurrily clasped from view. Blood raced to be noticed on my visage, the heat caused my eyes to well and spill salty, oily water.

    Not being able to bring my eyes to met his anymore, I spoke the very words he never needed to hear.

    Alan lowered himself to a knee, pulling out a box that was far from a mystery to anyone, but a small part of myself wanted so badly that it wasn't.

    His eyes gleamed so happily, I forgot they weren't for me. "Will you marr-"

    My sister, with her own energy, stood up just as excited, if not more so. Opening up her arms as dopamine took over her senses, she shouted a little too loudly, "Of course! I'd thought you'd never ask. . ." Her eyes spilled with tears, making her similar hazel eyes become exceedingly shiny.

    Before Alan got to his feet to embrace his new fiancé, Chloe had already thrown herself into him, pushing him to the floor. They laughed and held each other in the way only they could. Chloe smiled at him from above, her lips moving in a phrase I remembered saying so many years ago.

    "I love you, Alan." The words were all I had left to offer someone like him.

    He was silent for a long moment before he replied. "I think you should go." He didn't even laugh. Not a hint.

    As Mom began to take part of the peach pie for her two children, as well as her new son-in-law, I watched as they climbed to their chairs.

    Every part of my soul wanted to destroy something. Anything. Scream til my lungs bleed. But I couldn't do that. Not here, not now.

What was I supposed to do, if not that? I stared as the two of them place soft kisses on each of their faces, whisper inside jokes I'd never understand. All the while, my fork made a mush of my dessert to match the chaos that filled my being.