Short Story

A Home on the Other Side of the Mirror

“Dillon, it’s time to go!”
His father yelled from his car. His room was the only place left he could think. But maybe that was a good thing. He carried his suitcase downstairs, each step seeming like an inch closer to rock bottom. The door slams behind him, leaving the sounds of anger to echo throughout the house in despair that his mother might be listening and come running after him. She was gone now though.
It had been only a few days since his mother passed away. He was hoping for a little more time to himself. After all, how could he grieve with someone he didn’t know existed? The awkward silence in the car brought him a brief moment of peace as it seemed to distract him from the memories of passing places he’d went with his mother.
“We’re just a couple miles away from home.” his father said.
“Home?” he chuckled, taking a glance in the rear view mirror. Home was further than his father thought.
The car returned to silence. Only this time his mind wandered as he observed the new scenery of a place he was forced to call home. He put his head phones in to flood his thoughts, he couldn’t risk breaking down right in front of his father whom he’d just met. He was never good at holding in his emotions. However he began to wonder how his father seemed to be so good at it. What was miles turned into kilometres as the sun began to shine. He somehow found comfort in the gloomy weather that faded away not too long ago, so he closed his eyes for the remainder of the ride. The car came to a stop. He rubbed his eyes in agony as he woke from the brief moment of peace he couldn’t find when he was awake, the kind where you can escape and forget everything for a second. He rubbed his eyes again, this time it was déjà vu. His father grabbed all his things and brought it to the front door, he followed behind. His father put the key in the lock to open the door but before he had time to open it, “Hello.” A beautiful woman dressed as if it was her first day of work answered the door, it was his wife. She’d introduced herself to him; something his father had forgot to do though he followed to do so quickly after. Brad and Naomi Jewel, just as their names read on pictures hung around the house. Among those pictures were many of himself as a kid. As his father appointed him to the kitchen he noticed more and more pictures of himself, dating back to just a few months ago. “Would you like something to eat?” said his father. “How could I eat at a time like this, how could you eat at a time like this?” he thought to himself, shaking his head in silence. Perhaps his father was better at hiding his feelings than he was. Naomi had walked into the room with the most subtle smile on her face. “Welcome home” she said. His eyes water and face beats red as he storms upstairs, he couldn’t bear to be addressed with those words from people that were nothing more than strangers to him. As he turns the corner and stops stares at a room he notices, it’s filled with toys and a cradle. “Dillon please come back down stairs, we’d like to talk to you” yelled his father. Overwhelmed in the moment, he lets out the tears he had been holding in and slowly walked back downstairs pulling himself back together, he needed some answers. He joined his father and Naomi at the dinner table, they began explaining. His heart races and he makes his way outside, not rushing a single step. He sparks a cigarette and begins to inhale in attempt to calm himself. Had everything they said really been true? As he begins to calm down he reaches into the pocket of his pajama pants he’s been wearing for weeks, and pulls out the letter his father gave him just a few moments ago. This was the last thing his mother had left for him after she had died; these were her very last words. He slowly opened the letter hesitant of what lies inside, a deep breath was taken in tempo and he read
“Dillon Jewel,”
It was the adoption papers. He pulled out another cigarette and then another. He stepped back inside; his parents had been waiting right at the door. They began to explain the cause of their actions, they had no choice. They even took precautions such as asking his foster mother to keep it a secret so that he’d never have to bear this pain, they did it all for him. His mother now in tears, she hugged him.
“We didn’t have time to redo your old room in such short notice.”
It all made sense to him now, all the pictures of him on the walls, the subtle looks of happiness on their faces he caught throughout the day and the old baby room. They finally had their child back, he was home.