2. Homecoming

"Shh, your dad is watching TV. Why didn't you knock or walk in?" my mother said as she opened the door. She smoothed her platinum blonde bob down and readjusted her skirt.

Well, hello to you too. Typical Mum. If I had walked straight in, I would also be in the wrong.

She sidestepped out of the doorway and gestured for me to come in while scanning the street behind me. "Don't just stand there, Natasha. I have dinner to make."

"Hey, Mum." I pulled my suitcase up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders for a brief hug. "I missed you."

My mother returned my embrace with a pat on the back. "Yes, missed you too." She grabbed my shoulders and held me away from her, running her ice-cold blue eyes over my appearance. "Have you lost weight? You look gaunt."

At least that was better than the times she insinuated I'd gained too much weight.

"I don't think so," I mumbled while chewing the inside of my cheek and biting down to stop myself from screaming. The metallic taste of blood told me I had bitten down far enough.

She clasped my chin in her hand and angled my face upward. "Oh, no. It's just your face. Stop frowning. What have I told you about wrinkles? I have a cream you can start using. Remind me later. Now, close that door before you let flies in and head upstairs to freshen up before dinner."

My hands gripped the handle on my suitcase, turning my knuckles white. Pushing my annoyance down, I waited for my mother to disappear into the kitchen, leaving me outside the closed living room door. We didn't even manage a minute before she found fault in me; a new record.

I popped my head into the room, checking the area until my gaze landed on my father. He laid back in his armchair, his hands over his stomach and the top button of his trousers undone.

"Hey, Dad." I kept my voice cheerful, hoping for a better reception than the one from my mother.

He sat up and tugged his shirt down, covering the sliver of tanned skin hanging over the waistband. "Hey, Kiddo. Back already? How was Paris?"

"It was Marseille, and it was great."

"Same difference. They are both in France." He ran his hand through his thick greying hair. He squinted back towards the television, the wrinkles at the corner of his hazel eyes deeper than the last time I saw him.

It was pointless arguing that Paris was nowhere near Marseille, or even the same place. He knew that but refused to acknowledge he never paid attention to anything I did. Football played on the screen, and I knew I couldn't compete unless I started kicking a ball around like Messi.

I scratched the paint off the doorframe with my nail and sighed. "I better get this bag upstairs. It's getting heavy."

"Yep, you do that." He chewed on his thumbnail as he focussed on the game.

After making my way upstairs and into my old bedroom, I threw my case onto the middle of my bed. A year away and nothing had changed, yet somehow it looked different. Running a finger along the dust-covered bookshelf, I made sure each one of my beloved books was still where I had left them; my only escape from the loneliness I felt in my own home. Would I ever be good enough?

***

"Natasha Jane Wilson get down here! If you think you are coming home to mope around and not help, you have another thing coming," Mum shouted up to me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and groaned as I lay back on my bed. How could someone so tiny shout so loud?

"Natasha, can you hear me? Get down here now!"

"Give me a sec," I muttered to myself as I walked down the stairs to find her, not having a death wish.

Whenever I rang, she claimed she missed me and begged me to come home but deep down I knew it was too good to be true. My mother loved me in her own way, but our personalities clashed, never getting on when in the same room. I longed for the day she would just be happy with me. It wasn't a lot to ask for.

Mum leant over the hob, stirring a pot of what looked like her homemade tomato soup. It smelt like it too. She wasn't all that bad. At least she remembered my favourite.

"Well, set the table and cut some of that bread instead of standing there. It's cooled down now. Your dad must be starving. You know how he gets if he doesn't eat on time. You had to book your train without making sure it worked with our schedule." She dipped a clean spoon into the soup and slurped up the steaming liquid. After a few seconds, she sprinkled a pinch of salt into the pot and resumed stirring.

"Will Rosie be home tonight?" I asked while opening every cupboard, trying to remember where she put the bowls. Had she changed this kitchen around?

"I don't think so. She mentioned Daniel's parents were making them dinner so she will probably stay there for the night."

Rosie, my little sister, was thirteen months younger than me but acted as the more mature one out of both of us. Her entire life was already mapped out, down to every last detail. After this summer, she planned to head straight to university for a business degree. Once that box ticked, she would move to the city where Daniel wanted to work once they graduated. Buy a house, tick. Get married, tick. Have babies, tick. And maybe one of those yappy dogs, tick, tick, tick. All dull and exhausting if you asked me.

How could she have everything planned out when I didn't even know if I would still like Coco Pops this time next week? What a silly example, as the answer to that question was a big fat, YES. I would never not love Coco Pops.

"It's a shame she didn't try to pop in. I haven't seen her in a year." I finally found the bowls. After grabbing the spoons and butter knives from the cutlery drawer, I finished setting the table.

"Natasha, she wasn't the one travelling. It was your choice. Our lives didn't pause because you took a year off to do God knows what. And we weren't stopping our plans the minute you felt like coming home," she said, facing away from me.

I glared at her back and dropped the remaining cutlery onto the table. She had this habit of getting right under my skin.

"Mum, you asked me to come home for the summer and I did. I am not expecting you to drop everything. I just thought it would have been nice if she had stayed to see me, just tonight." My voice cracked as I tried to swallow my disappointment.

Before my mother had a chance to retaliate, Dad strolled in and plonked himself at the end of the table, not even bothering to look at us.

"Mandy, I am starving! Get a move on, Love. It's tomato soup, not a three-course meal. Should it take this long?" he griped, wiping his spoon on the bottom of his shirt.

"Really, Dad," I whispered to myself. He deserved a bowl of soup over his head for the way he spoke to her, but she was no better. Regret swirled around me as I realised I never should have come back.

She didn't look up from the pot, ignoring his comments. Why did she let him get away with the way he talked to her, yet didn't let anyone else walk all over her? If that was love, did I want to experience it? They had always been like that; toxic.

"What was that, Natasha? We couldn't quite make out your grumbling," Mum snapped as she served my father his soup.

I tensed my shoulders as I clenched the back of my chair. Shaking my head gently, I masked my irritation with an insincere smile and joined them at the table.

We spent dinner in near silence.

After all that scintillating conversation, I returned to my bedroom, changed into sleep shorts and a tank top and checked my phone for messages. The blank screen didn't surprise me.

The new friends I met abroad weren't the messaging type. We didn't have that sort of relationship. They were the kind of friends that you spoke to when they needed something or you had a night out planned together. From over here, I could neither help them nor entertain them and had been forgotten.

Besides Sian, none of my friends knew I was home.

I contemplated ringing Alec. Each time my finger hovered over his name, my stomach knotted and in the end, fear won. I dropped my phone onto my bed and picked it back up a few times before dialling Sian's number instead.

After a few rings, she picked up.

"Hey hussy-" she took a deep breath-, "how did dinner go?" She panted down the phone and could barely speak, her breathing all over the place.

The corners of my mouth lifted into a genuine smile. Laying down on my bed, I tried getting comfortable as a conversation with Sian often lasted all night.

"Do you mind not answering your phone while you are in the middle of entertaining your new lover? Has your mother not taught you any morals?"

"Haha- hilarious. Can't actually breathe right now. I am sooo out of shape." I heard her struggling to catch her breath, and it sounded painful.

"Has Farmer Daniels put you to work? What is it today? Tractor pulling with those enormous hands of yours?"

"Rude, Wilson! You always take it one step too far." She paused, and for a second I feared I'd upset her but she continued, "Give me a second? Seriously struggling to get my words out. I'll just listen for a bit. Talk!"

We were constantly teasing each other and rarely fell out over it. That came from years of being joined at the hip. I had known her my entire life, she could practically be my sister.

Honestly, we were closer than I was with my own flesh and blood.

"Awful! Mum was-, well, Mum. Nothing changed on that front and Dad barely spoke, unless to pass snide comments. Rosie didn't bother to come home. What a waste of time," I rushed, my words spewing out as fast as my heart rate, anger washing over me.

Sian wheezed down the phone, and I closed my eyes, exhausted from the day. "Hey, it's not a waste. I'm here. Alec is here. We'll make sure you have the best summer. Don't get upset, Nat."

Rolling onto my side, I pulled my duvet over my head and sighed. "I know you are. Can we go off somewhere tomorrow? I can't spend the whole day here."

"I wish I could but some of us work and without a car, it's hard to get around. The others are having a barbecue at the lake. Why don't you show up?" Sian's breathing returned to normal after a pause to gulp down some water.

Life and soul of the party, Sian would just turn up and fit straight in. That wasn't my style. Every friend I made before I moved away was thanks to her and our year apart hit me hard. We spoke regularly, but I always felt like a little piece of me was missing.

"Mmm, maybe. By the way, what were you doing when you answered the phone?"

Sian giggled. "Sorry to disappoint you. I was just on the treadmill."

"Boring," I laughed with her. We spent the next hour catching up before I fell asleep, clutching onto my phone, focusing on the uplifting tone of her words.

Tomorrow was a new day and I couldn't let my family dampen my summer when I had friends like her.

***

What a welcome home!

What do we think of her parents?