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‘We just wanted to help it feel a little more like home for you, dear,’ Evelyn’s words repeated in Alex’s mind as he stared up at the ceiling of his new bedroom.
Home was a place of comfort and chaos, of anxiety and affection. His bed at home was small and had a spring poking out of the mattress that he had to be careful not to roll into, the ‘room’ little more than a corner sectioned off of the living room by curtains that sat just beside the laundry room. A few pictures of his favorite gridball and diamondball players that his mom had cut out of magazines were taped to the wall beside his bed, a shoebox full of trading cards tucked away beneath it, and once he had Dusty, the space was filled out by the little dog’s energetic pacing too.
His new room was not home. The idea of it being ‘like’ home seemed stupid to Alex, because this felt distinctly better than home and yet also worse, though he couldn’t explain how.
His inability to articulate his feelings even as he lay awake overthinking only made Alex feel dumber than he already did, smacking his forehead a few times until his dog began to lick his cheek to comfort him.
It was the biggest room in the house, hastily remodeled by a friend of his grandparents just after he had arrived in Pelican Town. A wallpaper with a repeating print of gridballs lined the walls, and a bulletin board had been hung with all his old magazine clippings pinned to it. There was a desk, a mostly empty bookshelf, a large dresser, and even a bed for Dusty although he likely wouldn’t be using it. The bed he currently laid in was bigger than his old one too, wide enough he might even be able to share it with someone if he had anyone to lie with. He sometimes would get in bed with his mom after his dad left them, hugging himself to her side even as her body shrank and became fragile with sickness.
Guilt ate at him knowing his grandparents had to share a small room together in order to grant Alex this one, hearing the muffled voices in the next room of his grandpa grumbling and his granny hushing and appeasing him as she always did.
They’re just being nice because mom died, Alex reminded himself, the thought bringing forth tears yet again. That’s why that boy on the beach was nice too. They just feel bad for me.
Alex rolled onto his side, hugging Dusty tightly and burying his face into his soft fur. That was one comfort of home he still had, if nothing else.
He hadn’t had Dusty for long by the time his dad left for good, but there had been ample opportunity in those few months for the dog to soothe him through his parents’ arguments. The walls were thin in that small house, Alex left to stare up at the ceiling while his parents screamed in the next room— mostly his dad, though every now and then his mom would shout back, too. Usually if she did, Alex would hear other, more distressing sounds, followed by his mother’s cries.
Each time, Alex sought comfort in his dog, just as he did now. The scent of his fur and the steady sound of breathing would serve to calm him enough to sleep, and Dusty seemed to enjoy being squeezed by his best friend, even if it meant being soaked in tears.
Alex couldn’t make out their conversation, but hearing his grandparents’ voices in the next room set his nerves on edge.
Maybe it was like home, in small ways, but he was sure it would never be home. Home was a place he could never go back to.