An Open Sky

Chapter Twenty-Six ~Alexa~

I pulled into the driveway and stepped out of the car. The garage was a mess. Tools were thrown everywhere, cluttering the floor along with much-needed parts of our Nissan.

                “Dad?” I called, stepping toward the garage. I pulled on my sleeves to shield my hands from the cold. I stepped over the disembodied passenger seat and peered under the car. “Dad,” I repeated. He continued to pick at some screw underneath the car. His music was blaring, some seventies band, I think. Hypocrite, I thought, moving my way over to the radio. I turned the dial all the way down and stepped back over to the car. He slid out from under it and looked up at me like I’d just held a gun to his head.

                “Yeah?” He asked with mock concern.

                “What are you doing?” I gestured to all the parts and pieces lying on the cold garage floor.

                “There’s a squeak coming from around the passenger seat and I’m trying to fix it. Would you mind turning the music back on when you go inside?” He slid back underneath the car.

                “You’re going to hurt your hearing with it that loud,” I mimicked how he said it to me, “and if you don’t manage to do that, the neighbors are going to get pissed.”

                “My hearing is already messed up,” he muttered. “Just turn it on.”

                It’s already on, I snapped, making a face in his direction. I walked to the speaker and spun the dial up, making sure to keep it as quiet as I could get away with. I flashed him one last glare before stepping up into the house. I closed the door and tossed my empty backpack next to the washing machine. I could see myself in the metallic hood of it. My thoughts became background noise to the livid growl that the machine was making. I let the horrid noise feed my anger, make my skin crawl. I watched myself, my reflection. I let my fuming image become me. I let it take me over. I grinned at myself, at how stupid I was, how vulnerable I was. I looked away, taking a deep breath, tuning out the growl that vibrated through my ears.

                I walked to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, tossing several sandwich-making items onto the counter. I grabbed a small ceramic plate from the cupboard and spread out two pieces of bread, freezing when I caught a glimpse of Aidan sitting at the tree, my tree. He was sitting there, scribbling something into a notebook. I abandoned my empty sandwich on the counter. I slid open the patio door and flew down the deck stairs. He wouldn’t run away this time.  

                He didn’t even glance up as I made my way across the yard to him.

                “What are you doing?” I narrowed my eyes at him. He slid his notebook off of his lap onto the ground. I saw now that he was drawing, not writing, on sketchbook paper. So it was Aidan that found my shoes…The image on the paper was a very detailed portrayal of a girl. I could tell she had long blonde hair, even though it was drawn in black and white. Long blonde hair…it made something pop out in the back of my brain, but it was too far away to retrieve. There was a small picture of the smiling, young girl tapped to the corner of the page. Even her smile radiated beauty. I wondered if she lived here too.

                “I think you can see what I’m doing here.” He smiled at me even though he pushed the drawing further behind him.

                “I’d prefer it if you’d stay out of my yard,” I snapped, resting my hand on my hip.

                “Actually your yard ends,” he stood and drew a line with his foot, “right there. Therefore, I’m not in your yard.” He smiled wickedly and leaned back onto the tree. I wanted to step right over the line and smack that grin right off of his face. Instead, I took in a deep breath.