When I entered, the lights were out in most of the house. It was so quiet. I was surprised Michael wasn’t waiting by the door. He must have already disappeared to his room, hoping I wouldn’t discover he was spying at the end of my date.
I headed up to my room. I felt him before I heard his voice, like a draft emanating from the left.
“Ah —you’re home,” Michael said as he came from the living room.
I exhaled loudly. “Yeah.”
“So, did you have a good time?”
I tucked my bottom lip beneath the top one. He caught sight of the dress in my hand before I could answer.
“Oh, wow! What is that beautiful gown for?”
Did he seriously not know?
“John got me this dress for the prom.”
“Oh, how lovely and kind of him.”
I smirked slightly. “You didn’t know?”
Michael shook his head. “No. John asked if he could take you out, that he had plans for you, but he wouldn’t tell me what. I guess he thought I couldn’t keep a secret.” He chuckled.
“Oh,” I thought. He was telling me the truth.
“It’s lovely. It’s going to look amazing on you.”
“Thank you. I better go to bed.”
He nodded and moved back towards the living room.
I took a step toward the staircase, then stopped. “Michael?”
“Yes, dear?” He turned back to me.
“How would you feel if I left?”
He faced me fully and gave me a long look. “Left?”
I swallowed what I meant to say.
“You mean to college?” he asked with a furrowed brow.
I thought for a moment before answering. “Yeah, for college.” It wasn’t what I meant, but this might be an easier way for him to wrap his mind around the inevitable.
His thoughts were clear before he answered. For a moment, he considered what I meant and then, once the fear eased, his feelings softened and he realized it would soon be something he’d see happen. “Well, it will have to happen one day. Are you ready?”
“I think so.”
“Then, I’m ready. It’ll be a wonderful experience. And besides, it’s not like you can’t visit, right?” Michael grinned.
“Right, of course,” I immediately said. “Well, good night, Michael. See you tomorrow.”
I hurried up the stairs before he could say or ask anything else. Quickly racing into my bedroom and shutting the door behind. As I stood there, emotions heightened. It wasn’t like he was my father, I kept telling myself. It wasn’t like we were family … well, real family, anyway.
I put my face in my hands. That was cruel, even if I never voiced the sentiment. Michael was the closest thing I had to a family. How could I even think that? Could I leave now? Why was I now having second thoughts?