"How great is this?" mom exclaims when we pull into the sandy driveway of our new light-wooden exterior home. "A beachfront house. Can it get any better?"
Our new house looked exactly like the listing mom showed me when she signed the lease. While it's tinier than our house in Cambridge, it sits on an enclosed beach that has a gorgeous view of the water.
I keep silent as my chin stays slumped in the palm of my hand. My face is turned away from my mom, but I can feel her eyes on me. I feel her sorrow, too, but she chose this new life. She chose it for the both of us.
We grab our suitcases from the trunk and head for the front door. Mom switches the entryway lights on, and the main room is already filled with furniture from our previous tenants. I can't help but feel unsettled when it hits me that these aren't our belongings.
"Let's leave the suitcases here and I'll show you around," mom says, and I just nod before she leads the way.
She walks me through the kitchen first, which is pretty outdated. It's got all the essentials, but it's evident in their appearance that they're old. Like the cast iron sink and the red retro fridge. Next up is the living room, which is neutral in colors except for the washed-out yellow curtains.
We walk up the stairs and enter the first door on the right. "And this is your room," she says, which consists of white walls and a small TV that sits on top of a white dresser. The only pop of color comes from the canvas painting that's right above the TV and the light pink circular rug.
"You hungry?" mom asks as we make our way back down to the first floor of the house. "My colleague Ruthie was raving about this Italian spot in town. Why don't we shower and then check it out? The packing can wait until tomorrow."
"Fine," I say monotonously, but she gently reaches for the back of my arm when I turn away.
"Lily," she calls out, but doesn't follow it with anything else, so I shake my head and dart my eyes from side-to-side.
"What?"
"How does that sound?" she asks.
"I said fine. I don't really know why you're asking me. It's not like my opinion matters."
"That's not true, honey."
"Isn't it? Because if my opinion did matter, then we wouldn't be here in the first place." I'm not trying to be rude, but at the same time, I'm angry. Sometimes, all my mom thinks about is her job, and I can't help but feel secondary to it.
My mom looks at me with a regretful expression, but it's too late. The damage has already been done. And this is our life now. There's nothing more to say, so I give my mom one more look and continue to tour my new home.
YOU ARE READING
The Bennett Boys
RomanceI was wrapping up my junior year of high school when my mom told me that we were moving. It was goodbye Cambridge, Massachusetts and hello Newport, Rhode Island. I knew that Newport was going to be nothing like Cambridge; I knew that I was going to...
