I ate dinner with Tyler's family that night, and, though I could certainly feel the tension between his parents, and see the longing in both of their eyes (perhaps Charles's more), excepting this, everything felt as comfortable as it could possibly be. We ate on the living room couches while watching America's Funniest Home Videos on the small TV. Jake was there, too, and he and Milly sat on one couch with Linda, as Tyler and I sat on the opposite couch with Charles. He seemed very nice, if not fulfilled. Tyler looked extremely happy, and that made me happy, and so we all sat in the living room smiling and laughing and eating Chinese take-out. Still, despite the comfortableness of the house, I still felt like Tyler was still holding on to his grief, wasn't quite accepting that his life was going well. But, of course, I couldn't blame him. It wasn't as if I was giving up the grief I felt for Dustin, though I knew she would have wanted me to.
I felt like a kid going to Disneyland for the first time in years- I didn't quite believe that I wasn't dreaming, that I wouldn't wake up at any moment and find that all this joy was just a fantasy. My dad, though not exactly reuniting with my mother, had told me that he was moving back to the states, and that he would be visiting me much more. (By much more, I think he meant he would be visiting me, as he hadn't at all in the past.) My sister and I were living in a house, an actual house, with my mom. Jake had finally asked Milly out, officially, and she wore a smile everywhere she went- and had stopped painting her fingernails black. And Angela loved me. She leaned farther back into me on the couch, and played with my hands, which were intertwined with hers.
The whole situation was very absurd.
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