{"id":450,"date":"2019-04-15T08:00:03","date_gmt":"2019-04-15T07:00:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/?p=450"},"modified":"2019-04-11T17:26:27","modified_gmt":"2019-04-11T16:26:27","slug":"taylor-sheppard","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/2019\/04\/15\/taylor-sheppard\/","title":{"rendered":"Taylor Sheppard"},"content":{"rendered":"

Empty Home<\/em><\/h1>\n
\"\"

Illustration by Amy McCartney<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sitting on the back porch, Lydia watched her mother adjust a tiara on her niece\u2019s head. It wasn\u2019t the best day for her mother to be outside, particularly with the chill in the air, but her niece insisted. So, with her mother\u2019s stubborn personality, they had been at the party for over two hours already. Lydia understood why she had to be there but as another stray balloon popped and a child wailed over their spilt ice cream she couldn\u2019t help but try to meet her mother\u2019s eyes. Less of a question and more of an insistence.<\/p>\n

Are you okay?<\/em> A lift of her brow asked. Her mother nodded. Should we leave? <\/em>To this she hastily turned away. She hated answering Lydia\u2019s questions.<\/p>\n

Lydia glanced at her brother. He was at ease with a child\u2019s spill proof glass in his hands as he mingled. He stopped to talk to some of the other dads while also cleaning up. It looked as if caring for his family was a breeze, which Lydia guessed was exactly what he was going for. \u00a0A perfect example of doing it all. Lydia rolled her eyes.<\/p>\n

She looked back at her mother who adjusted the blanket around her shoulders. She knew it\u2019d be time to take her pain medication soon.<\/p>\n

Maybe after that\u2026<\/em> Lydia fantasized. She had a list of things she could be doing but as she slowly made her move towards the door, her mother\u2019s cool voice asked her to stay for a bit longer. \u201cI was only going to ask Ben if he wants help with the presents.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Later, after sliding into the quiet reprieve of her mother\u2019s car, Lydia noticed the buzz of her phone. She ran her fingers over the glass and read message after message from Nash. He always sent multiples as if what he had to say was urgent. It never was of course. It actually seemed a bit unnecessary for a grown man with two kids.<\/p>\n

Come over tonight. It\u2019ll be fine. Unless you have plans with someone. You there? The girls left with Hannah this afternoon. <\/em><\/p>\n

She sighed assuming they had cleared this up earlier when she had slid out from between his warm navy sheets right as the sun broke through his window. Lydia had already filed his request away in her mind by the time she untied her running shoes and prepared her mother\u2019s breakfast. Yet he had thrown it back into her hands. This was supposed to be her one non-complication. Without responding, she backed out of her brother\u2019s driveway.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWe didn\u2019t know if you\u2019d show up!\u201d Jamie pushed a fizzing glass in her direction.<\/p>\n

\u201cI doubt that,\u201d Lydia replied nodding towards the drink. Jamie shrugged in reply and looked away. She hated when Lydia pointed out those small, kind gestures. Hated wasn\u2019t the right word; embarrassed.<\/p>\n

She sat down next to her, listening as their table had the usual check in. Lydia had known most of these girls since grade school. Every two or three months Lydia received a group text as if they weren\u2019t all aware that they would order the same drinks at the same restaurant at the exact same goddamn time.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey have responsibilities,\u201d Jamie had previously defended them while driving her home one night. Lydia responded with an empty glance. \u201cWell, responsibilities they actually care about,\u201d she amended with a smirk. Lydia liked that Jamie never really cared when she had an attitude.<\/p>\n

Lydia always chalked up Jamie\u2019s willingness to attend these dinners to the fact she didn\u2019t go to high school with them.<\/p>\n

They had first met at a campus bar where Lydia liked the anonymity. How each year the faces changed. The exact opposite of how she felt in her small town.<\/p>\n

Lydia would have a couple of drinks before glancing across the bar at Jamie. After a few weeks of this, and Jamie being the last one left as her friends paired off, she had come over to Lydia and introduced herself.<\/p>\n

It had almost been a year since then.<\/p>\n

Now, Jamie sat next to her and sipped her Jack and coke, interjecting into the conversation right as Lydia\u2019s phone buzzed. She couldn\u2019t know who it was but she had her guesses. Lydia closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath. It was this feeling that churned up from her gut; the sense of being pestered. The urge to shatter all the glasses on the table. It was ever-present. Gnawing, gnashing, tugging at her conscious; begging for attention. A need to be tended to.<\/p>\n

Jamie glanced at her. Concerned eyes probing, she asked if she wanted to leave with a downturn of her mouth. Lydia didn\u2019t respond. She wasn\u2019t sure how to voice it. She gulped her drink and barely had the mind not to slam it back down. Jamie discreetly placed her hand on Lydia\u2019s thigh. Her thumb attempted to rub comforting circles. Lydia wanted to settle into it. The steadiness she offered. Instead, the glaring question of what is this? <\/em>tugged at her incessantly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour alarm\u2019s going off,\u201d Jamie said.<\/p>\n

Lydia tensed as she reached into the pocket of her jeans. The overflow of messages and guilt she knew had to be waiting just behind the screen. Wordlessly, she switched off her mother\u2019s evening alarm.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHow was the party?\u201d Jamie asked as she drove along the empty streets.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom lives for get-togethers like that. Screaming kids, mingling with neighbors-\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe gossip.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYep,\u201d Lydia felt her eyes droop. Exhaustion, alcohol, probably a mix of both.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve been tense all night.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lydia let out a deep sigh.<\/p>\n

\u201cPerpetual exhaustion? I feel that,\u201d Jamie glanced over at her.<\/p>\n

A tilted head moving against the headrest, she met Jamie\u2019s eyes for a brief moment.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019s work been? That co-worker giving you an attitude?\u201d Lydia asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course he is! Makes me want to pull my hair out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d she watched the red-light shadow over Jamie\u2019s face. \u201cDoes he still carry around that massive bottle of tomato juice?\u201d<\/p>\n

Jamie groaned in response, \u201cI\u2019m so sick of the smell.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence settled around them as Lydia rubbed her eyes. It wasn\u2019t even midnight, yet she felt the pull to crawl into bed. Tug the sheet over her head and let the deepest sleep pull her under.<\/p>\n

Her brother had called earlier and said he brought their mother home after the party. His tone was clipped, which she expected. It was his questioning of where she had gone, how long she\u2019d been out that was unexpected. Why would he want to hear about the goings-on in her life? Lydia was sure he wanted her to feel guilty. And she did feel a little bad for leaving the party but she couldn\u2019t find it in herself to apologize, much too tired for that sort of thing.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWhy can\u2019t you talk to me anymore?\u201d Jamie broke the silence. Her hand was up before Lydia could respond. \u201cDon\u2019t feed me bullshit. You\u2019re my best friend. I know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Whatever conversation Jamie wanted to have, it already sat heavy on Lydia\u2019s chest. Something else to tend to. She didn\u2019t want to be a bitch, she just wanted to breathe for two damn seconds; nobody asking anything of her. The only response she could muster was a small shrug.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it because of what I said the other night?\u201d Jamie looked dejected. A better friend, a better whatever they were<\/em> would\u2019ve offered her some sort of comfort.<\/p>\n

\u201cI swear that isn\u2019t it.\u201d Lydia tried to put as much meaning as she could into her words yet they still fell short.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m just as confused about this as I think<\/em> you are,\u201d she said. \u201cClearly we don\u2019t regret it.\u201d She raised her eyebrow, as if there was a question she wanted to ask but couldn\u2019t bring herself to. \u201cI can\u2019t read your mind, Lydia. You have to give me something.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t regret it,\u201d it was the smallest piece of solace Lydia could offer. Still, it left her feeling exposed. \u201cThings have been busy\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Jamie didn\u2019t look convinced. Her face was flushed, which Lydia knew was a sign that Jamie was close to crying.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll call you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Jamie rolled her eyes but nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks for the ride.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well I wasn\u2019t about to let you drive home.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lydia didn\u2019t have a retort. At least one person cared enough to get her home in one piece.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know Lydia, I do all of this because you\u2019re my friend. Because I care <\/em>about you,\u201d she swallowed hard, \u201cBut lately you\u2019ve made it so hard for me to like you.\u201d Jamie wouldn\u2019t look at her.<\/p>\n

Lydia opened the car door, the need to throw something pounding through her eardrums. She shut the door but without slamming it. She didn\u2019t really want to upset Jamie anymore. She once again hated that part of herself that caved in to cordiality.<\/p>\n

They stared at each other for only a moment. As she watched Jamie back out of the driveway, she felt a lump form in her throat.<\/p>\n

The car was disappearing around the corner as Lydia\u2019s eye caught something and she jumped.<\/p>\n

A dark blue sports car crawled up the hill. It was too dark to see in through the windows. Her stomach clenched, imagining Nash behind the wheel. Yet as the car moved on she tried to convince herself it wouldn\u2019t be him. Why would he be out this late driving around? Her mother lived in a big subdivision. The odds it\u2019d be him were slim.<\/p>\n

Even still, he knew the red glow of tail-lights would tint her fitful night of sleep.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Another run. Another heart-healthy breakfast for her mother with no less than five color coated pills she had to coax her into taking. It always took a solid hour to get them all down after she put up such a fuss. By then there was lunch and appointments. The haphazard nap she\u2019d try to talk her mother into while she stole away for an hour or so to scroll through job applications. Inevitably she\u2019d end up on social media, scrolling through everyone else\u2019s life.<\/p>\n

She would blink and it was time for dinner.<\/p>\n

The daily routine.<\/p>\n

Repeat, repeat.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

You\u2019re still ignoring me? Fine. Can we meet? I want to know what\u2019s going on. It\u2019s all I\u2019m asking for. You can manage that I\u2019m sure. <\/em><\/p>\n

As dusk arrived, Lydia laced up her running shoes and made her way up hill to the house around the corner. It was in the midst of being built. It was a few doors down from where Nash and his family lived. A convenient middle ground for when his wife was in town.<\/p>\n

The foundation of the house came together within a day or two but after the sheets of plywood formed the walls and the roof had been attached, it was left empty. A for sale sign stuck against the curb. She hadn\u2019t seen anyone come by to look at it in months.<\/p>\n

Lydia watched as the plastic fluttered in the breeze.<\/p>\n

Today she had given in. She and Nash had never made any sort of commitment, their entire relationship built on sex and her need to get away from her mother\u2019s suffocating house. But if she was to start mending things, figuring out what the hell was going on, maybe it was best to start with someone who had the least attachment. And ever since she saw the ease with which Jamie pulled away, she had wanted to try and fix things.<\/p>\n

\u201cWasn\u2019t sure I\u2019d see you,\u201d Nash stood against the banister where a set of stairs were only partially complete.<\/p>\n

\u201cI said we could meet. I wanted to talk to you, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs this about you not coming over at all this week? Or, you ignoring my messages?\u201d<\/p>\n

Lydia sighed, wiping the sweat of her palms on her shirt, \u201cI should\u2019ve said something.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re damn right you should have.\u201d His eyes flashed with anger. He inhaled a shaky breath.<\/p>\n

\u201cNash, listen. There were other things going on and I couldn\u2019t–\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that why you were out with her the other night?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw you with her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lydia felt suddenly cold.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis wasn\u2019t meant to be serious–\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat isn\u2019t for you to decide! Clearly you have time to go out with your little friends<\/em>,\u201d he spat the words as if extracting venom.<\/p>\n

This wasn\u2019t the reaction she had pictured. Had he been this disgusting all along? Was it something missed as she had snuck out of his house, consumed with her endless duties of pills and appointments?<\/p>\n

Lydia thought back to her niece\u2019s birthday party. A slow-motion haze of her brother and mother laughing together as she got on her hands and knees. She cleaned up the drippings of ice cream. A child crying nearby as she scooped up a dollop of icing. All in the name of being a helping hand. There had been a rise of panic as she felt cemented into the moment. Like this was a snapshot of her life thus far. And this is what she had accomplished. A picture frame she couldn\u2019t escape from. Lydia had watched the ice cream roll down her niece\u2019s arms in carved out paths. Little rivulets of milk and sugar that met at her elbow, only to pause before descending onto the concrete.<\/p>\n

Lydia was pulled from the memory as Nash slammed his hand against the wall.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the hell is going on?\u201d Nash\u2019s face was red. She noted his anger but still said nothing.<\/p>\n

Wasn\u2019t making the decision to break things off just something else she had to waste time thinking about? None of it mattered. None of it was important. She could shut her phone off for days; let her mother\u2019s house suffocate her so she wouldn\u2019t have to face any of them again. Wouldn\u2019t have to face what might come next.<\/p>\n

Her heart had begun to pound. That all too familiar warning of being exposed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI need to go,\u201d Lydia said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d His expression hadn\u2019t changed.<\/p>\n

She took a step back at the same moment he reached for her arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe haven\u2019t talked about anything! Especially not that friend of yours that you have so much time for.\u201d His voice reverberated so loudly in the empty home, \u201cjust stay for a minute dammit!\u201d<\/p>\n

He gripped her arm right above the elbow.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou need to listen,\u201d he said. \u201cI don\u2019t know what the fuck has gotten into you, but you need to straighten it out.\u201d His face was so close to hers that she wanted to pull back, but she was frozen. A cold dread that wouldn\u2019t allow her to speak. Her body was ice.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you hear me?\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded. It was the only response she could manage for a brief moment.<\/p>\n

Something inside was whispering to keep calm. Deescalate. But she couldn\u2019t listen.<\/p>\n

She yanked her arm and his grip loosened. One more tug and she had backed away. She ran through the frame where a front door was missing.<\/p>\n

Nash\u2019s words echoed even though she couldn\u2019t make sense of what he said.<\/p>\n

Lydia\u2019s body buzzed with energy. A tremble that started in her feet until it echoed inside her. Bouncing off one organ and hitting another. She forced herself to run. Her mother\u2019s looming house in the distance.<\/p>\n

Only a few more yards away. Her knees wanted to lock.<\/p>\n

Only a few more feet. Shallow breaths in and out. Thoughts racing so fast she wanted to laugh.<\/p>\n

As she neared the house, instead of feeling any ease she only had the urge to keep running. The house couldn\u2019t calm her pulse at all. There was no waiting embrace of relief inside. Instead, she slid into her mother\u2019s car and locked the doors.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

I\u2019m outside. Can you come meet me? Please?<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em>Lydia paused between typing each message. She was no longer shaking but she still felt a tremble settled right below her skin. She was parked outside of Jamie\u2019s office. She just wanted someone next to her to tell her it was all going to work out. Everything felt as if things had veered off track in some past moment she knew existed but couldn\u2019t pinpoint. And all she wanted was for Jamie to look at her full on and remind her it would all be okay. Maybe Jamie could offer that reassurance at least.<\/p>\n

Or more like it was her turn to apologize. Tell Jamie everything that had been going on with Nash.<\/p>\n

I know I\u2019ve been\u2026 <\/em>What could she say? Her throat felt constricted, a sob willing its way up. I just want to talk. I know I should\u2019ve been talking to you this whole time but it\u2019s been hard. <\/em><\/p>\n

Lydia stared at her messages. An ellipsis appearing for a moment only to disappear. She stared at her messages longer, pressing against the glass when the screen would darken. But there was no response. No waiting arms to be found here either.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben stood with his palms pressed against the counter. The tips of his fingers growing white. He had called while Lydia sat waiting for Jamie; an offer to sit down and talk for a bit. It wasn\u2019t the person she wanted but it was someone nonetheless.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou need to stop pawning this stuff on me and grow up,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cBen, she doesn\u2019t want to hear anything from me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the way you treat her Lydia, I swear.\u201d He let out such a long sigh, \u201cI know things have been tough lately. I really do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can barely take care of her. Mom won\u2019t listen to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s stubborn but it isn\u2019t that dramatic.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lydia wouldn\u2019t meet his gaze. He didn\u2019t know. He had his own family with his own problems. He didn\u2019t really care.<\/p>\n

\u201cI try to help but I don\u2019t know what else you want me to do Lydia,\u201d he shrugged.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan\u2019t you just listen to me then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m trying!\u201d<\/p>\n

Lydia was silent for a moment. She didn\u2019t want another fight.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe she should look into staying somewhere, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

He shook his head, \u201cDon\u2019t start this bullshit up again. It\u2019s pointless.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course it is. Anything I suggest is bullshit to you, right?\u201d Lydia scoffed.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust\u2026talk to her Lydia. You\u2019re her daughter after all. She doesn\u2019t need to go anywhere else,\u201d he offered a faux sympathetic look that nauseated her. \u201cOr maybe you should try to listen for once.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lydia sat in her mother\u2019s car. The only sound a quiet hum from the engine. An old keychain Ben had given their mother when he was a kid dangled from the ignition. Lydia\u2019s only refuge had become a car that didn\u2019t even belong to her. It seemed so fitting.<\/p>\n

What did she even want? Her personhood had been reduced to a simple fixture. She was supposed to be content with standing in the corner, being reliable, yet here she was. Screwing that up. Forcing even the people she wanted away. It felt like her last life-line had dissolved.<\/p>\n

Lydia knew that Ben would never leave their mother to fend for herself. Swooping in to save the day was a boost to his ego as the eldest. He took all the credit but he would never learn when to refill each prescription. He couldn\u2019t tell you how their mother would mindlessly tap her foot when she was ready to go to bed. He didn\u2019t know that she was always more tolerable on Thursday\u2019s after her weekly call to her friend, Ayla.<\/p>\n

There wasn\u2019t any where to go. Lydia knew that. But sitting here only made that realization more prominent. The weight of having to stay here wasn\u2019t one she could bear any longer.<\/p>\n

Her hands hovered above the wheel for a moment. A split second of hesitation.<\/p>\n

And then a chime from her phone broke the spell. Lydia glanced at it just as her mother\u2019s evening alarm began to go off. She silenced the noise and turned it face-down.<\/p>\n

The hum of the engine loosened the knot that had been tightening within her gut. She switched on the radio to break the silence and she put the car in drive.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Taylor Sheppard is (mostly) a prose writer with a love for female-led stories and YA literature. She recently completed the creative writing MA at Newcastle University and received her BA in Psychology from the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, which she affectionately calls home (mostly because her cat lives there). More of her writing and musings can be found at https:\/\/lovenotesonnapkins.wordpress.com\/\u00a0<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Empty Home     Sitting on the back porch, Lydia watched her mother adjust a tiara on her niece\u2019s head. It wasn\u2019t the best day for her mother to be outside, particularly with the chill in the air, but her … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":8051,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-450","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/450","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/8051"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=450"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/450\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":454,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/450\/revisions\/454"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=450"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=450"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=450"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}