When Orah came home, everything seemed to just fall back into place as though she had never been gone, at least at first.
Matthew had watched her walk in the door with bags from the grocery store and set to work as though it were any other day, offering only hugs and cheek kisses before she put water on to boil. He'd watched her shift from cooking to straightening up the kitchen he and his father had left a mess, then to cleaning it and from there to cleaning the living room as well.
Never could leave a mess once her eyes set on it. He thought as he watched her toss dirty clothing into a pile by the stairs before she straightened a pile of gamer magazines. Resting his head in his hand as he sat at the counter, the teen couldn't bring himself to take his eyes off his sister, who seemed oblivious to the attention.
I've missed her. More than I thought I would. I'm glad she left, but I hate it too. It was something he could admit to himself, in the privacy of his own head. For as long as he could remember, she had always been there... a steady, caring presence in his life that had taken the place of a mother he had never known. She had been the one to make his meals, get him dressed in the mornings, and play with him when he was lonely. His Da had been there too, certainly, but Art had never been real good at coming out of his own head enough to connect all that well with his children. Matthew knew there was love there, but there was bemusement too, confusion about what to do with these two little people. He never blamed Art for it... it was simply how it was. Orah had given enough care for three people, he'd never felt neglected.
The silence in the apartment stretched, broken only by Orah's moving about, and Matthew felt the urge to put on some music or something. The house was never quiet like this... he couldn't quite put his finger on what was missing. It felt like music, but he knew they rarely turned on the radio that sat on the counter. Whatever it was, it felt like it centered on his sister, but there was nothing outwardly wrong with her that he could put his finger on.
Green eyes swept over her again, but it only confirmed his first impression. She looked the same as ever, really... same clothes, same hair, same smile when she caught him staring. He smiled back, but there again was that faint bit of 'weirdness' he couldn't place. Maybe it was just a by product of those dreams... the ones he couldn't remember very well, but left him longing for something he couldn't place, filled with a restless dissatisfaction. He wondered, for a moment, if Orah was still having her nightmares. Living in her own place, he couldn't hear her cry out at night any more, so it was hard to know. He'd never felt comfortable asking her about it. Her smile still felt off though... all of her felt off. Matthew wondered if she was happy in her new place, or if she missed him too. Maybe that was it.
Orah wasn't happy unless she was taking care of someone. It was a fact that had become apparent as he grew old enough to start to understand such things. Maybe not having him and his father to mother was the reason behind this strange fog she'd brought home with her. He had hoped being on her own would have given her the opportunity to consider herself a little bit more, rather than everyone else... it was the only good thing about her moving out and the only reason he'd accepted it at all. He hated how little care she gave herself... everything was always about what everyone else wanted, never what she did. She was a person with her own mind, she had to have things she liked and wanted, opinions of her own... but she would never voice them and it was infinitely frustrating.
When the broom came out, Matthew lifted his heels to brace them on the rungs of the stool, out of the way of Orah's cleaning. If she wasn't happy on her own, he wasn't sure what he could do for her. She had the opportunity to blossom her own way now, spread herself and really be her own beautiful self... but if she was going to wilt without the support of having others around, what was the point of it all? He was unhappy without her, she was unhappy without him... wasn't it all just useless and unnecessary? But at the same time, maybe it just took pushing her out of her comfort zone to get her to grow. Maybe it was simply too early to tell if this was doing her any good, but it didn't much help the nagging worry.
Dinner was pasta and it was a fair sight better than the stuff Art had been making. Orah had always been a better cook and the time together was pleasant, filled with talk of the shop and occasional laughter. Their father never noticed, of course, but Matthew heard an edge to it that had never been there before and he wondered all over again.
By the time his sister went home, the teen had no more answers to his questions than when he had started and only a brief stint of normalcy to cling to. The time had been nice, but it had not been all that he had wanted. Leaning against the sliding glass door of the balcony outside his room, Matthew smoked his way slowly through a cigarette he wasn't supposed to have before he pulled out his henshin pen and doned his dark uniform.
Maybe skulking around her apartment complex would yield answers. He wasn't real hopeful, but it was better than brooding around at home.
