Stepping out of the carriage, I took in the sight before me. I had been away from 'home' for so long that I might as well have been seeing it for the first time. I must be becoming more and more in tune with my character because looking at it now, I feel pangs of emotions that I wouldn't otherwise feel. A large residence that I have no ties to makes me feel so many emotions but mostly nostalgia. I ran my eyes over every inch of the building as if I wanted to memorise it to revisit once I had left. That was the most tiresome part of my personality, always living in the future when it would do me no good.
Stepping in I was greeted by familiar strangers. Based on their clothing it was obvious that they worked at the house but they had the air of elegance that even I am aware I lack. I didn't have time to dwell on that thankfully as I was hit by another realisation. Amidst these people I could not see any of my family members. Though I had been avoiding them, it still pained me to see my existence be rejected in this way. Not simply because they couldn't be bothered to welcome me after I was gone for so long, but moreso because they didn't care how humiliating it would be for me in front of all of these people. False pretenses would at least provide me with the comfort of knowing that family troubles stayed within the family, but right now it was clear as day.
I hardly listened to anything I was being told. Recognising the tone as holding pity I knew there was no need to listen to any excuses they made on behalf of my family. It didn't matter the reasoning provided, if my own family could not have the decency to tell me themselves it was useless. Instead I handed over my belongings as I followed the butler to my room. It had been kept in much the same state I had left it in, as if it had been stuck in time while everything else moved forward. If I didn't know any better I would have assumed my family missed me but I did know better, so I didn't make that embarrassing mistake. Instead I settled in, unpacking my belongings since I had to spend a few weeks here. I notice now how often I have been referring to these things as my own, as if this life had been mine to begin with. Some strange occurrence must be taking place within my body, why else am I claiming a life that was never mine?
The butler helped me unpack everything in silence. He has always been quick to pick up on things, knowing when it is best to work in silence and when company is warranted. Thanks to his support we were able to finish quickly, owing also to the fact that I had very few possessions with me. Soon I had the absolute silence I had been longing all this time. It was just me in this room but I might as well have been alone in the entire residence. People moved secretively, trying not to break the delicate balance of the silence with unnecessary clatter and noise. The lack of chatter and other arbitrary noise was not befitting of a home but neither was the lack of family presence so what did any of it matter. I have always been black or white, never grey. The moment I noticed their absence, I no longer had any expectations of what it means to be a family or back at home. Afterall, home is such an abstract term. It means one thing to one person and another to another.
Once dinner was ready I ate in my room, not wanting to eat in an empty dining room. No one wants the reminder that they are unloved, and I wouldn't be the exception. The butler brought in the food and told me that the chef prepared my favourite meals for my return. I could see the excitement dripping from his eyes as he spoke, no doubt hoping to see my happiness over this fact. As much as I tried to look happy because I was in fact pleased with the effort that had gone into it, I couldn't fight the bitter feeling that it was not for me. This wasn't my favourite, though technically it was. It was Max's but not mine. However, I had no room to argue or be displeased when I have long forgotten my old name.
For each bite I did my best to savour the flavour. Unknowingly my eyes began to water like some part of me was being saved without my knowledge. Sure, it tasted better than what I had been eating at the academy, that much was a given. More than anything, it tasted of the care, effort, and love that I had been lacking for quite a while now. Independence and indifference are only enjoyable momentarily but eventually I could hear myself begging for the company of genuine people. Despite this I continued to push away the only people who cared until they no longer did. Is this the same as only realising what you had when it's gone? If so, it is a terribly lonely existence.
I thought about how other students are enjoying their first day back home and it only made me feel worse; the absence of others only made worse by the comparisons which always amplify my own insecurities. My mind is my own worst enemy, one that I wish I could separate from myself at times. My thoughts kept me busy as I ate, trying to keep the tears from falling. The last thing I needed was people to find another sore spot to poke fun at.
As I finished my meal and packed everything up to be taken away, the silence was broken. My little bubble of peace that I had carefully created to comfort myself was popped. I could distinctly hear a carriage coming closer and I didn't need to look to know that my family had returned. Now I had the painful task of facing them without knowing what expressions they had on.