Accidental Neighbor by Sharon Woods
Chapter 29
Jennifer
A loud banging outside my room startles me awake. The noise isn’t outside; it’s inside. I groan and shuffle down the bed and pull the covers over my head. It’s the weekend. I don’t understand why my family insists on making noises that wake up the house. It’s been a week from hell. I just want to sleep and drown my sadness in this bed, hoping to wake up to find out it's all a bad dream and Thomas is still mine.
The banging is on and off even after a few minutes, and my covers don’t drown out the noise at all. Thrusting the covers off me, I sit up to grab my phone from my bedside table, hoping for a call or text from Thomas.
My shoulders drop and a heavy sigh leaves my lips. Unfortunately, the screen only shows messages from Katie and Olivia. I stretch and reach for a sweater in my closet, shoving it over my head. I mosey out of my room and follow the noise.
“Ugh,” I call out as I enter the kitchen, the noise louder in here, killing my eardrum. My mom and dad have pulled all the contents from the cupboard in the food pantry. A frown forms on my face as I take in the sight. My dad is hammering at the shelves while Mom hovers over, inspecting.
“What are you two doing?” I say out loud.
Mom looks over at me, her lips turn upward. “Your dad is helping me put extra shelves in. Do you want some tea? I have already boiled the kettle.”
“Sure,” I mumble, moving toward a dining chair.
Mom brings over hot tea, lowering it to the table in front of me. I pick it up and blow on the top to cool it down.
I scan the mess of the kitchen, the morning’s wake-up call. This really solidifies how badly I want my own space. It’s time.
“Mom, Dad, do you think you could come sit for a minute? I think it’s time we talked.” My tone is serious, which causes my dad to stop adjusting the shelves and turn his face toward me.
He doesn’t say anything as he places the tool down and walks over, dragging out a chair opposite me. Mom joins in too, sitting next to dad.
They stare at me in confusion, waiting for me to talk. Clearing my throat, I quickly glance down at my tea before raising my gaze and flicking it between the two of them. “I have made a decision to move in with Olivia.”
I hear a sharp inhale from my mom, and my dad’s eyes share the same empty stare. My throat feels dry, so I drink from my cup, looking over the brim.
“When?” Mom asks.
“I don’t have an exact date, but soon I would say,” I answer honestly.
My dad shifts forward in his seat, his hands clasped on the table in front of him. Staring down at me, he says, “Darling, I hope you aren’t doing this because of our fight. I love Thomas; he is a great man. I just don’t think you’re seeing the different paths you’re on. You have so much life ahead of you.”
I shake my head. “I'm not angry anymore at what happened with Tom. I’m just upset that you couldn’t hold it until the girls and him weren’t around. We should have had a discussion when they left. I'm sorry for yelling at you, Dad. That wasn’t acceptable."
I take a deep breath before continuing. "As of now, he has chosen to break things off with me. I really liked him and the girls. I’m not little anymore, and I think living here you’re forgetting that. You live with me and should know I'm not like most twenty-two-year-olds. I enjoy my quiet space and being home. I just need to grow and be on my own. And with Olivia, I’m not far.”
His gaze moves to the table in front of him, thinking about what I have said. He can’t stop me, and he knows it. I'm an adult and I can make the decision without his consent. I would prefer they accepted it.
Waiting for his answer, my palms begin to sweat so I rub them together.
He sits back. “I can’t stop you, but your mother and I will always support and be here for you. And if it doesn’t work out living out of the home, know you always have a home here.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Thanks, Dad.” I shift my gaze to my mom, who has tears streaking her red splotchy cheeks. “Mom,” I say.
“It’s okay. I'm fine, really. It’s just as hard for your parents. We want only the best for you.”
My lips twist. “Thanks, Mom.” I don’t say anything else. I drink my tea and watch my dad stand and return to the kitchen. I didn’t expect an apology. My dad is not sorry for protecting me; he would see it as his job.
But accepting my move is enough.