Page 5 of Bring me Back

Even though she wasn’t bringing the costumes with her, silent girl held them close to her chest as she glanced up to me.

“It was great to meet you, Mr. Miller. I’ll see you soon.”

She disappeared through the curtains and I let out a breath.

Dad flickered the coffeemaker on and turned from the counter. His big arms crossed in front of his chest, and he threw me a tired smile.

“All we moved from the city were fabric rolls. Are you opening a shop, bug?”

I sat in the chair in the middle of the kitchen. The coffeemaker chimed in the background as the familiar smell invaded the house. I arrived home a week ago when Dad picked me up from my old apartment in the city and brought me back to Bluehaven. Between moving in and establishing a new routine, we were still catching up.

Dad paid little attention when we were loading his truck, but now that he was converting the shed to give me a space to sew, he noticed how much fabric I brought with me.

I licked my lips and chanced a smile. “Maybe sixty percent of all I own is fabric.”

I stuffed my clothes and shoes in one suitcase, leaving the other for textbooks. In one small cardboard box, I put random things like a wine opener and some fun magnets. But everything else was fabric. Scraps from other projects I worked on, things I bought just because. Boxes and more boxes filled with random buttons, ribbons and zippers.

Since Dad barely used the shed in the back of the house, he suggested converting it to my needs so I could keep working on my projects. Volunteering for the school play wasn’t necessarily what I called work, but looking for Mrs. Carr was the right thing to do. I didn’t have many good memories of our small town, especially at my old school, but Mrs. Carr was a memory to cherish. I smiled just to think about her inexplicable mullet and the way she opened her arms mid-sentence, like in the middle of a monologue.

When the coffeemaker was done brewing, Dad turned and grabbed mugs for both of us. I followed as he served and felt bad about how little I shared with him since coming home. I wasn’t trying to be distant, it just happened. I sighed. I didn’t even tell him about volunteering.

“I’m glad you’re home, bug,” he told me, placing a mug in front of me. I mouthed a thank you, but it was for much more than the coffee.

I looked through the window to catch a glimpse of the garden. Mom loved roses, so he planted rose bushes all over the garden after she died. It was a way to comfort us, even though most of the time it made me sadder. Letting my eyes drift, I saw his tools aligned by the shed’s door. A clear sign he was planning to work on it.

“I don’t want you doing any extra work. I can make myself at home.”

“Youarehome.”

My eyes found his face again, and he looked hurt. I meant making myself at home at the shed, but it was clear Dad wasn’t sure what to do with me. Since I left, I only came back for the holidays. I had no friends in Bluehaven and Dad worked on the weekends. I wouldn’t mind helping him at the shop, but I was too scared of bumping into people. I felt the sour taste of irony on my tongue. It couldn’t be avoided anymore.

“Where are the clothes you make?” Dad changed the subject when I failed to reply.

“Sorry?”

“What happens to the clothes after you make them?”

He had a good reason to ask. The fabric I purchased was vibrant and smooth to the touch, and the clothes I wore were old looking jeans, basic t-shirts and sneakers.

“I gave them to the school close to the apartment.” I lifted one shoulder. “They had a really good drama teacher. She put on the best plays.”

“You donated?”

“Yeah. They struggled with budget.”

That was the understatement of the year. After I finished college, I wanted to save money on rent, so I moved while keeping Dad in the dark about what kind of building I was living in. He wasn’t very happy when he found out. Needless to say, the local school suffered from lack of funding and the theater department wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for the determination and creativity of Ms. Handall.

“That was very nice of you, bug.”

My cheeks warmed, and I sipped my coffee. I liked to make costumes and Ms. Handall put them to good use. That was why I looked for Mrs. Carr the second I was back in town. She was a good teacher, just like Ms. Handall, and I couldn’t see myself doing anything but creating.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to work at the shop with you?” I changed the subject.

I needed a paying job and Dad knew it, but it felt weird not to offer to work at the shop with him. He waved me off. “Nah, the Thompson kid is coming around after school. He can handle it for now. Go get yourself a job and save money.”

“So you weren’t planning on paying me?” I took from his words.

“No,” he deadpanned with a little smile, and I smiled back. I felt our distance the most in times like this. It reminded me we didn’t share a smile very often.