The King Without a Queen

I could feel myself smiling when we drove by the field that I was so familiar with. But I couldn’t stop and appreciate the area where I spent most of my time as a kid.

I could see that many things had changed, and I felt something deep inside me; there was a lingering sadness.

I was a little sad about the fact that I had not been a part of this change. Seeing the town change along with changes in myself as time would pass, it was something I wanted.

There was stability in that, even though change was still constant.

Soon the scenery was replaced by another and then I found myself gazing at the neighborhood where I spent ten years of my life.

I distinctly remembered how I felt growing up here. There was so much love in my childhood, and my mother was the center of it.

My childhood was painted with vivid shades of yellow and with books. Yellow because I knew not one day where I was not content, and as for the books, my mom had hundreds of books around the house.

I remembered how I could not understand the difficult words written in the books, but I still sat down with the books in the evenings beside my mom and acted like I was reading it.

But in reality, I just loved being near my mom. I smiled, thinking about my childhood, and I took a deep breath as if the breath in the memories.

I was finally home, and was more than happy about it.

One by one, the houses passed by. Some I was familiar with, others not so much. I noticed some were redecorated. Soon, the car slowed down and I came face to face with our house.

Our real house. Home.

I giggled excitedly, and my mother chuckled at my reaction. “You seem ecstatic, Phoebe,” my mother announced, taking off the seatbelt.

I followed her actions and said out loud, “Yes, mom. Look.” I pointed out to our house, “We’re finally home.”

Home.

Growing up, I had always wanted to stay somewhere and make memories. Of course, I had made many memories while traveling with my mom. I’d met many people, but they were all strangers. I didn’t even remember most of their names now.

Every time we had moved, I had to make new friends, and I always had this feeling that I didn’t belong with them and, of course, I didn’t. They had their own life before I came into theirs, and I only got a brief glimpse of how they lived. They were what we called meeting halfway through the journey.

And before I could know them in a more intimate manner, I was gone. So many missed friendships and so many what-ifs.

I always had the thought in the back of my mind that I would have had a best friend now if only I had more time to spend with them, only if I had told my mom that I wanted to stay.

I wanted to be with someone who knew me from the beginning.

My mother smiled at me, and all my thoughts vanished. She was the kindest person I have met, and I wouldn’t want any other person to be my mother, never.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” She pressed a button and unlocked all the doors.

I nodded eagerly, opened the door, and jumped outside.

The cool air kissed my skin as soon as I was out of the car. I loved it. I loved this feeling.

I didn’t wait for too long outside as I was too excited to see our house again.

I followed my mom to the house and waited patiently as she unlocked the door. I looked around the lawn and wondered if my mom would plant flowers over there again.

I remembered my mom was keen on gardening once. That changed when she decided photography was her true passion and took me out on the road with her.

I guess being a writer gave you some autonomy to do whatever you wanted. She could write from anywhere, and because of that, we were moving all the time.

She could never stay in one place for a long stretch of time, and I never complained to her about that.

Maybe if I had spoken about how I had felt, we could have stayed in one place. She was so kind, I was sure she would have listened to my wishes.

Last week, she suddenly decided that she had enough and wanted to return.

I was ecstatic about her decision, and I knew she could tell it. She had said that it would be a permanent move this time, and I was never more happy about anything in my life.

I was also dumbfounded when she told me, but I kept my feelings at bay and didn’t ask her many questions.

I was afraid that she might change her decision. I had wanted to come back here for such a large part of my life, and I didn’t want her to change her decision.

My mom was impulsive. That was the explanation for most things in her life, including me. I wasn’t exactly planned—

On her twenty-first birthday, she decided she wanted to hook up and as a result, I was born. I never knew who my father was and neither did my mom.

She’d told me she was too drunk to even remember his voice.

She only remembered his name.

Aaron.

That all I knew about my father. But I wish I could meet him once, just only once. I wanted to know who was the other person that created me.

Maybe if I had him by my side, my mom would have stayed in one place. I felt a little guilty about how I felt; my mom was trying her best to raise me, but I wanted a routine for once.

I felt out of place everywhere, but I hoped that I would find my footing here, in this town.

My mom moved in front of me and I was again reminded of how similar both of us look. I looked like my mom. Short, barely reaching five-foot-five, with curly hair and a small nose. My eyes were gray, and I guess that was the only thing I got from my father, whoever he was.

The sound of the door squeaking loudly penetrated my thoughts and brought me out of my reverie. I tended to zone out a lot.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw a person staring at us from the first floor of our neighboring house. The moment our eyes met, they disappeared behind the curtains.

That was weird, I thought to myself.

I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that soon followed, and I wondered if I should tell my mom about it but decided against it. They were probably curious about their new neighbor, nothing wrong with that.

I took a deep breath and tried to rationalize my feelings.

My mom stepped inside the house, and I followed. The smell of dust hit my nostrils and I covered my nose immediately.

There was light sneaking in through the windows and I smiled as I saw the empty living room, forgetting all about the incident that just happened.

I was finally home.