“Sean!” I squeal the minute I see my handsome brother standing in front of me after he opens the door.  Even with the awkward weight of my bags on my shoulders I have to jump up and hug him tight, not having realized I missed him quite so much over the years.

“Hey Mackie,” he greets chuckling, wrapping his arms around my tiny-in-comparison frame and pressing a sweet kiss against the top of my head.

I pull away and rake my eyes over his face, with his light blonde hair so much like my own and his blue eyes so different.  He’s tall and wide, and if I didn’t know him to be such a softy at heart I’d be a bit intimidated by him standing amongst the backdrop of my parents foyer.

He leans forward to grab the suitcase standing beside me and then opens the door wider, letting me walk in first and take in the house I haven’t stepped foot in more than twice since high school.  It still looks pretty much the same as it did over two years go, with its ornate maroon and gold wallpaper and huge wooden archway exposing the grand stairway that cuts the bottom floor in half.

I ask Sean, “How long have y’all been here?  I thought I’d be the first in.”

Thank goodness I’m not though; now that they’re here it means I’ll have less of a chance at alone time with my mother.

He responds from behind me, “We actually flew in earlier today, so not too long.  Maria and the kids are taking a nap right now.”

I look behind me towards him and grin, saying, “I haven’t seen them in so long.  I bet they look so different.”

He smiles in the way only a parent can about their kid and says, “Madison doesn’t look too different, her hair’s just longer.  You’re going to freak when you see Charlie though, he’s so tall now.”

A light pang of guilt hits my chest as well as a lingering feeling of sadness.  Here I am with a niece and a nephew and I haven’t even attempted at being a part of their lives.  While the main reason is because they chose to live so far from home, I still could have at least tried to drive up and see them.

“Oh honey!” my mom calls out from behind me, and when I turn away from Sean I see her thin figure hurrying over to me.  She looks the epitome of a judge’s wife with her white cashmere sweater and black pants, pearls draped around her neck and poked into her ears.  

Once she reaches me she throws a big hug around my shoulders, my nose automatically getting a huge whiff of her expensive perfume and hair products.  I tentatively hug her back, knowing that this excitement of seeing me is going to fade as soon as she remembers the emotional baggage I carry around with me.

When she pulls away I see the evidence of a few years passed, the lines crinkling in the corners of her eyes more pronounced.  Her hair, of course, shows absolutely no sign of age, as I’m sure it’s been dyed with its natural dark blonde color and streaked with highlights to cover any chance of grey.  It’s still in its fashionable shoulder-length bob, and for a brief moment I’m struck with a feeling of homesickness.

While home may have been miserable for me after the incident in high school, it still held many happy memories.  My mom chasing me around these wooden floors, my dad and I cooking cupcakes for my middle school bake sale and getting batter all over ourselves.  My parents definitely weren’t perfect, but we weren’t miserable either.

There were streaks of sunlight in the rainclouds; I just seemed to forget that over the years.

She asks me, “Are you hungry?  Sean and I were just munching on some chips in dip in the kitchen.”

“Sure,” I nod, “Just let me put my bags in my room first.  Is Dad here?”

“He’s at court right now, but he’ll be home for dinner.”

After nodding at her I take my suitcase from my brother’s side and then start lugging everything up the large curved stairway, seeing the large bay window and the window seat I spent countless hours doing homework lodged in.  I walk past it and towards the hallway containing the four rooms up here, my bedroom being the second door to the right.

I push open the door and see that nothing has really been changed, surprisingly, except for the fact that it’s much cleaner than I used to have it.  My room used to be all pink and girly, happy in its cliché, but after the party where everything changed I convinced my mom to let me completely redo it so that I had something to occupy my time, and to get rid of any lingering remembrance of that night.

The picture collage I’d had arranged in a heart was taken down and burned in the fireplace downstairs, now replaced with a pretty and cliche aerial shot of Paris.  The dresser that I’d had chalkboard painted onto the sides of was taken out so that the messages from Ted would never remain, and was then painted a glossy black and ornamented with silver knobs.

And the bed, the bed that I’d had my virginity robbed in was never slept in again, my mom having it put on the town resale page on Facebook.  Now a giant king bed with a black quilted headboard rests in it’s place, a silky purple comforter and white down pillows making it the embodiment of comfort that I’d needed.

I’d spent so many nights in that bed quivering underneath the covers with unrepressed sobs, the pillows having had to be bleached numerous times from the onslaught of runny mascara.  Just the memory of those nights has my throat burning and so after I place all of my things at the foot of my bed, I hurry out of the room and shut the door quickly behind me.

When I turn to head back towards the stairs I’m stopped in my treks by the cutest little blonde girl standing in front of me, her hair and adorable pink gingham dress rumpled with sleep.  Her large blue eyes are worrisome and tired, and I can tell that it takes her a moment or two to realize who I am.

“Hey Maddie,” I greet sweetly, my voice high so that it’s less commandeering, and then kneel down in front of her.  With her five years of age and petite build so much like her mom's, she barely reaches my head even with me crouched in front of her.  “Did you just wake up?”

“Mhmm,” she answers, still looking a bit hesitant towards me.  “Mommy and Bubba are still sleeping.”

I hold my arms out towards her, and ask, “You want to come downstairs with me?  Your dad’s down there.”

This gets her attention and so she quickly walks into my awaiting arms, which I wrap around her and then stand up after, loving how she immediately buries her head into the crook of my neck.

I carry her down the stairs and rub her back as I do so, and surprisingly when we reach her dad and he goes to take her from me, she just holds on tighter.  A huge sense of joy fills me when I realize this is her way of telling me she still remembers and feels comfortable with me, and suddenly the depressing weight on my shoulders from when I’d been in my room disappears.

With her still wrapped up in my chest I sit down on the barstool next to Sean, my mom standing across the marble countertops in front of us.  She looks so incredibly happy, and I know that it’s because it’s been far too long since we’ve been a family like this.

She then pushes a glass container towards me and says, “Try it.  It’s this delicious recipe I got from Sue down the street.”

Since I haven’t eaten anything since the "farewell" breakfast with Carly, Fred, and Jesse, and it’s now three o’clock in the afternoon, I gladly steal a tortilla chip from the other container on the counter and scoop a heavy amount of what looks to be seven-layer Mexican dip.

It’s absolutely delicious, I realize after my first bite, and feel no hesitation whatsoever in gorging myself in it.  As I do, the three of us talk lightly about Sean’s work and my school, my mom looking absolutely enthralled in everything the two of us are saying.

I’ve missed this, the simplicity of family.  When I was still living here things were so awkward and tense, like we walked around each other on eggshells.  Of course it hadn’t been like that the whole time, especially when Sean had been home.  His reign of Golden Boy kept my parents proud and happy, and when my mom had something to brag about to her elite circle of friends it made her as agreeable as my mom can possibly be.

Once Sean left it was all left up to me, and for a little while I followed in his large footsteps pretty well.  I made good grades, good enough for me to not have to pay tuition now, I was student body vice president my junior year, and I had a large group of friends and what I thought was an amazing boyfriend.

Back then my mom was my friend and my cheerleader, and then when pictures of me knocked out cold and naked with a small crowd of boys standing around me surfaced, she never looked or talked to me the same way again.  Instead of being proud she was shamed, and had to go through her first trial of damage control.

Of course we won the trial, but we never won back my life.  Instead of being that pretty girl with pretty friends and a pretty life, I was the girl who was solely “responsible” for ruining a bunch of guys' life.  No one cared that my boyfriend had drugged me or to even ask me for my side of the story, they just branded me as a slut and called it a day.

But here, now, talking to my mom and my brother with my niece curled onto my lap, laughing and reminiscing, it’s almost like it never happened.

I’m sure this feeling will evaporate soon enough, but for right now I’m going to cherish it as much as I can.

-------- 

The majority of the next day is spent out shopping with my mom and Maria, as we decided to hit up the grocery store for Thanksgiving dinner necessities before the last-day crowd decided to infiltrate.  After that my mom dragged us to the outlet mall a few towns over so that she could find the perfect outfit for Thursday, and during that not-so-brief trip I once again realized where I inherited my incessant need to shop and not stop until I reached clothing perfection.

Hopefully I’m not nearly as intense as she is about it, seeing as how she spent the majority of the trip critiquing what felt like every item in the stores.

On the ride home my mom asked Maria how things were in Boston, if she was doing well at her job and how the kids were doing in school.  I sat in the back seat typing away at my phone, talking to Carly about her newly official boyfriend and how things were going on at her house.

Once again I was struck with the notion of how normal this all felt, riding in a car with my mom and sister-in-law, listening to them hum along to songs only they would know.  It was nice, to say the least, and so when Carly asked me how things were going and I’d replied with a “really good actually” she was as surprised as I was.

We get home about an hour before dinner, and as my mom and Maria depart towards the kitchen to get started on cooking, I see my dad sitting alone on the couch in the den and watching TV and decide to go sit with him.  By the time he got home last night I was making my way towards my room for bed, and since my mom was adamant to leave for the grocery store at seven this morning, I’ve barely gotten to see him.

I plop down next to him as he asks me how the day went, and when I curl up against his side I respond with, “Not too bad…I think we got all the groceries for dinner Thursday”.

“That’s good,” he replies, reaching forward to grab the remote off of the coffee table and then turning down the volume on the TV in front of us.

He smells like peppermint and scotch, just like he always did when he was going through a tough case, and I find the smell extremely comforting.  He asks me, “How’s school going?  Your classes are okay?”

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug, “It’s just school.  Spanish is kicking my butt, though.”

He chuckles deeply, “That was always my worst.  How many more semesters do you have to take?”

We walk about school for quite a bit longer, him not hunting down any overly personal details of my life away at college like my mom did.  My mom, of course, wanted to know about my friends and how Carly took the news of me not spending the break with her.  She never mentioned any boys, though, which isn’t really surprising.  I think the two of them are just as hesitant to me getting a boyfriend as I was before I met Jesse, so I’m definitely not letting that little tidbit slip.

As the school oriented conversation dies down I see him tense a bit, and I immediately know what’s going to come out of his mouth.  He asks, “Have you heard any more from that Cameron boy?”

The old me would’ve told him immediately just to prove that I was literally getting harassed and not making things up for attention like I always felt they thought, but now…now when I’m having a decent time with my parents for the first time in forever, I just don’t want to spoil it.  I know I’ll have to tell him eventually, but for now I’m just going to enjoy the rare sensation of belonging.

“No sir,” I answer with a shake of my head, knowing I made the right decision when I see his shoulders slump in relief.

“Good,” he answers gruffly, leaning forward and grabbing the remote off of the coffee table and turning the volume up.  But before we lose ourselves in an episode of Cake Boss, I hear him murmur, “Thank God."

-------

My phone buzzes in my pocket around nine o’clock that night, when the whole family’s curled up in the den watching American Idol and critiquing all of the performances.  My mom has Charlie snuggled against her, and she’s been glowing with happiness ever since we all sat down together.  My brother and Maria are curled together on the love seat, and every time I flick my eyes over at them I see one of them looking at the other, which is honestly the most heart-warming thing I’ve ever seen.

My dad and I have yet to move from the couch, Madison perched on my lap and resting her head underneath my chin. Every once in a while a flyaway hair will tickle my nose and make me sneeze.  She finds it absolutely hilarious.

It’s a night that I know I’ll remember forever, as corny as it sounds.  We’re all just sat together, laughing when a person is bad or oooohing when someone’s really good.  I finally feel like I’m a part of a loving family, like I’m not cast out for putting shame on everyone, and it’s one of the best things I’ve ever felt.

I lean my butt up, threading an arm around Maddie’s waist so that she doesn’t slip, and then slipping my other hand into my back pocket and extracting my phone.  I’m pretty sure that it’s going to be Jesse, as he said he’d call me every night after we spent about twenty minutes kissing and saying goodbye before we both left.  He called last night but wasn’t able to talk long as his mom was making his younger cousin bunk in the same room, so basically he was just able to whisper that he was sorry and that he missed me.

It was enough, though, because it made sitting alone in my depressing a bedroom not quite so poignant.

Sure enough when I get a good glance at the screen I see that I’m right, that the handsome boy’s just sent me a text asking if I can call him.  Looking around the room, at my happy and content family, I almost don’t want to move.  But I also really want to talk to Jesse, if only just for a minute, because for some strange reason, doing so always makes me feel better.  Even if I already feel good.

I whisper into Maddie’s ear that I’ll be right back and to snuggle with grandpa for a little while, and so when I see her bustle over to my dad and crawl into his lap, I straighten and then head out of the room, telling my mom that Carly wants to talk when she asks.

Hurriedly I walk up the stairs, glancing down at the text once again once I reach the landing and smiling once more when I see the cute message: I’m going to be really pathetic here and ask you to call me.  Please?

For someone so quiet he really has a way with text messages.

Once I shut my bedroom door behind me I call him, bringing the phone to my ear and then happily falling onto my bed, doing the cliché pose of lying on my stomach and hitching my legs together in the air.

He answers on the third ring, “I didn’t think you’d call so quick.”

“Maybe I’m pathetic too,” I grin, knowing it to be the utmost truth.  I’m absolutely ridiculous with this guy now.

“Glad I’m not the only one here.”

“No, not at all,” I respond.  “So what are y’all doing?  Watching more Big Bang Theory?”

“Nah,” he answers, and I hear a door close behind him.  “My mom and the girls were making cookies, I was taste-testing the dough.”

“Oh you’re so helpful,” I say sarcastically, but still find it absolutely adorable that he was sitting in the kitchen and hanging out with his mom and two little sisters.  For such a tough looking boy, he sure seems like a softy.

“Damn right I am,” he jokes before I hear bedsprings squeak over the line.  He must be lying in bed, and the realization that he’s doing the same thing as me warms my stomach.

He continues, “What about you?  How’s family time going?”

“Surprisingly well. We were all in the den watching American Idol when you texted me.”

“What were you expecting to happen?” he asks me curiously, “I know you were kind of dreading going home, but why?”

Feeling like this might start encroaching on dangerous territory, I answer vaguely, “Nothing really, my parents are just kind of overbearing.  That’s all.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he says, “You’re a very mysterious girl, Mackenzie Creswell.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“What do you mean?” I ask him, feeling my stomach curl.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, “You just never tell me much, I guess.  Aren’t girls supposed to want to talk about themselves a lot?”

I can’t help but sound a bit snappish when I ask, “And aren’t boys supposed to want to do everything but talk?”

He goes quiet once more, and I quickly start to feel bad for snapping.  Here I am, talking with a gorgeous boy any girl would want the attention of, and I’m snapping at him for wanting to know more about me?  I should love that he wants more from me than just sex, not avoiding conversation at every point.

“Is this our first fight?”

I sigh, closing my eyes and knowing that I’m going to have to open up with him.  I may not have to tell him the whole story, but if I want to keep him around than I have to say something.  “No,” I say with a loud breath, “I just…I don’t want you to get scared off, I guess.”

“What?  Are you, like, a serial killer or something?” he asks lightly, obviously trying to diffuse whatever tension is lingering.

I can’t help but giggle just a little.  “Of course not.  I just have some baggage, and I don’t want you to freak out.”

“Well try me,” he offers openly.  “I mean, I was fine with you freaking out that night and crying, right?  I know something has to be going on.”

I grimace, still not all that comfortable with remembering that night in detail.  Sure he was nothing less of a prince towards me, making sure I was okay before he left and not acting at all put out, but still.  It’s still absolutely humiliating.

But he’s right.  He has stuck around this long, even with my hesitancy towards anything intimate, which is when most college guys would’ve darted.  I guess at first I just thought he wanted to finish what we started that night, but now…now that this has gone on for so long maybe I need to wrap my head around the notion that he actually likes me for me.

He’s said it before, I just never really believed him.

“I