Saving Neba

𝐗𝐈: A spherical geoid of self-absorbed humans

Today was the day Nora was going to move away to Dad's other house. Today was also the day Rowan, Mum, and I would get into Dad's black minivan and get to see the house that I'm sure Nora would enjoy. Dad's words of affirmation, for your information.

To say that Rowan disliked the idea would be saying that coffee was just okay and nothing more — an understatement. As I climbed down the stairs with one of Nora's travelling bags, not like she had much to pack anyway, my ears were already adapting to Rowan's incessant groans. I took them in silence pretending that he was groaning as a result of the effort he put into carrying Nora's bigger travelling box.

But when we were at the stairs I turned to him. "Quit it, would you?"

Dad was in the living room, in his grey suit, glancing at his golden wristwatch. Mum sat patiently, holding Nora dearly, like one who was afraid of losing her.

If you're afraid then why succumb to this whole plan, I wanted to scream, to convince her — or anyone — otherwise.

If Nora left this little house, it would be devoid of its smallest, most important, form of liveliness. There would be no bouncing on the bed, no cause to scold, no reason to shout or convince or persuade anyone into doing anything. There'd be no reason to talk. It would be me, Mum, and Rowan. Well, until Rowan's leave span is overstretched and he has to go back to his Birmingham City University.

It was early, only a few minutes past eleven in the morning. But on a Sunday, Dad wanted to be with his family early enough for lunch, and also so we'd still have enough time to get back home and relax. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I huffed. Rowan stared at me like I was weird for huffing at nothing in particular. But when he sighed and took a few more steps I knew he understood that feeling of annoyance and helplessness.

I didn't want to be on earth. I wanted to be in Neba, or, on Neba, if it was also a spherical geoid of self-absorbed, inconsiderate humans. Except, the Nebans weren't that inconsiderate if Crypta was used as a reference.

They just didn't trust easily. Stupid, yes, but it is better than making people trust you and then betraying them.

My hand subconsciously reached for the pocket of my loose denim three-quarter jeans as I checked that the small aerosol can was still in there. Satisfied, I locked back the press stud and dropped the bag on the floor. It landed with a thud sound.

My hair was packed in a ponytail and I wore no earrings because honestly, who cared how I looked to my half-siblings and stepmother? A part of me was sure I didn't want to like them. That same part of me wished Nora wouldn't too. And I was optimistic.

"Is that all of it?" Dad asked, glancing at the bag and the floor, and the bigger box beside it.

"D'you expect more?" Rowan mumbled, and I heard him because he was standing behind me, his right hand on my waist, safety-consciously.

"Yes, that's it," I replied, drowning Rowan's response before anyone noticed the air.

"So let's go then!" Nora jumped up and squealed, inadvertently making Mum's hold enfeeble and cut out completely. Mum sighed and shook her head faintly. I knew there was more to that.

"Let's go, go, go!" She dragged Dad's muscular arms towards the door. At such an age, Dad was still rigid, strong, and handsome. No wonder he could pull off a second wife, I guess.

My heart clenched. Nora didn't seem hurt like she would miss anyone. Maybe she took Mum's word for it, like I did, that she could come to visit whenever she wanted.

If only she knew that one day, she'd get so used to waking up in her room and calling another woman 'mum', it would feel like it had always been that way. If only she knew that one day, she wouldn't remember any of this and that she never got the opportunity to miss her first home.