Chapter 22: Void
Guilt is a parasite that feeds on the heart, and mine is full.
I push open our front door at midnight on the dot, the weight of the evening hanging on me like a soaked coat. My clothes still smell like Sabrina, her perfume, her sweat, the intimate scent of what we did together, but my mind has been miles away, locked in a house with white walls and a woman with white hair.
The TV bathes the living room in flickering blue light, casting Mom in silhouette on the couch. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, nothing provocative, nothing designed to tempt me. Just Mom being Mom, which somehow makes this harder.
She turns as the door clicks shut behind me, those blue eyes brightening with recognition. "Hey, stranger," she calls, her voice warm and casual. "Right on time."
"Hey," I manage, the single syllable feeling like gravel in my throat. I stand awkwardly in the entryway, keys dangling from my fingers, unable to move deeper into the house or retreat back outside.
Mom studies my face, her smile fading as she takes in whatever she sees there. She mutes the TV, the sudden silence deafening. "What’s wrong?" she asks, concern replacing her earlier lightness.
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat refusing to budge. My fingers tighten around my keys until the metal edges bite into my palm.
"Nothing’s wrong," I lie, but the words feel empty even to me.
As I stand there, memories of the night replay in my mind, Sabrina’s tender touches, her shy smiles, her genuine affection. She’d fallen asleep after our encounter, curled against me like a cat seeking warmth. I should have felt content, accomplished even. Instead, I’d lain there staring at her ceiling, feeling an emptiness grow inside me with each passing minute.
The longer I’d stayed, the more I’d felt myself disconnecting from the moment, from her. By the time I’d carefully extracted myself from her sleeping form, kissed her forehead, and slipped out of her dorm, I wasn’t thinking about when I’d see her next. I was thinking about getting home.
About seeing Mom.