No Place for My Slippers or Me

I come home for the holidays to find four pairs of slippers beside the shoe cabinet. There's a pair for my dad, Dean Pratt, a pair for my mom, Nancy Kerr, and two pairs for my sister, Luna Pratt, including a spare. Mine isn't there. Although my sister attended school in another state, kept her room exactly as it was. Even her slippers sit by her bedside, waiting for her return. I had been away from home for three years. When I returned, I discovered that my belongings had disappeared one by one. And now, they hadn’t even kept a pair of slippers for me. I stand in the entryway, my feet bare. "Where’s my pair?" Mom pokes her head out. "You hardly ever come back, so I threw them away. They were taking up space." But the soles of my sister’s spare pair had already been worn smooth, and they were still neatly sitting in their original place. The next day, I buy a new pair for myself at the supermarket and put them beside the shoe cabinet. That night, I check the shoe cabinet and find them gone. Dad is watching TV on the couch. "Luna's classmate came over, so I gave them to her." "I just bought them." Dad doesn't even turn around. "It's just a pair of slippers. Get another one." Luna pauses. "Huh? I thought Mom had bought them for guests." It makes sense. Guest slippers were supposed to be thrown away once the guest had left. Chapter 1 I pushed open the door to my room and froze. Pink curtains. A white vanity. The walls were covered with posters of the celebrities my sister was obsessed with. I opened the wardrobe and found it filled with her dresses and jackets. Her journals and dance competition trophies lined the bookshelf. I went to the living room and asked, "Where's my room?" My mom, Nancy Kerr, was peeling an apple. She didn't even bother to lift her head. "You're a guy. Sooner or later, you'll get a place of your own and build your career. Leaving your room empty would be a waste. Luna uses it every day, so I gave it to her." "Then where am I supposed to sleep?" She nodded toward the couch, grabbed an old, pilled blanket, and tossed it to me. "Make do for a couple of days. You won’t be staying long anyway." Luna poked her head out of her room. "Leon, your pillow is on the top of the cabinet on the balcony. Go get it yourself." I went out to the balcony, stepped onto a stool, and reached up to pull the pillow down. The stuffing had hardened into clumps, and it was flattened like a pancake, with yellowed edges. I hugged it to my chest as I sat on the couch, remembering how, when I was ten, I was brought back to the city, and Mom pointed to the spare bedroom and said, "This is your room." Back then, I thought I finally had a home. Yet, ten years later, this family had gradually turned me back into a guest. First, my drawers were emptied. Then my closet was taken over. Then the bookshelf. And finally, there wasn't even a bed left for me. There were no blackout curtains in the living room. The lights from the building across the street and the streetlights flickered on and off in turns, while the ceiling was glaringly white. I rolled over. The blanket was too short, so whenever I pulled it up over my shoulders, my ankles were left exposed. My phone buzzed with a message from my advisor, Bobby Newton. "Leon, we're still one person short for the propulsion systems project at Nettle Base. The conditions are tough. It'll take at least two years, and you'll be completely cut off from the outside world. You're qualified for it. Are you interested?" I stared at the ceiling for a long time. I wasn't wondering whether I should go. I was wondering if anyone in this family would even notice if I disappeared for two years. Probably not. After all, a hotel didn’t search the world for a guest after he checked out. I replied, "Yes, I'll go." Chapter 2 At 6:00 am, Mom woke me up, but not for breakfast. She said, "Luna's soup is simmering on the stove. Keep an eye on it so it doesn't boil over." I sleepily rubbed my eyes as I stood by the stove, stirring the soup with a spoon. Mom had prepared the ingredients last night and got up at 5:00 am to start cooking it. Luna didn't come out until 9:00 am. By then, the table had been neatly set with the soup, poached eggs, warm milk, and a plate of sausages. Mom emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate. "Luna, come eat while it's hot." As for me, I leaned against the stove and chewed on a piece of bread. After breakfast, I put the printed informed consent form into a folder. In black and white, it stated, "No contact with the outside world for the duration of the project, for a minimum of 24 months." I took it to my dad, Dean Pratt, for his signature. He was sitting at the computer in his study. On the screen was a chart comparing graduate programs for Luna, with half the thing covered in colorful notes. I handed him the paper, and Dad took the pen without looking away from the screen, scribbling his signature across it. Then he pushed the paper toward the edge. It nearly slid off the desk. I bent down to pick it up and went to find Mom. She was crouched by Luna's feet, measuring them for a new pair of shoes. I held out the form. Mom took the pen with her right hand while holding the tape measure in her left, then scrawled her signature across the page. The pen tip jabbed into the paper, leaving a little blot of ink right over the words "no contact". I stood there, holding the paper. Mom looked up at me and asked, "What are you still standing there for? There's a sink full of dishes. Go wash them." I turned and walked into the kitchen. While I was washing the dishes, Bobby texted, "Has everyone in your family read the consent form? Do they agree?" I dried my hands and replied, "They've all signed it." If they signed it, it meant they agreed. That night, my uncle, Daniel Kerr, and his family came over for dinner. When his wife, Susie Huntington, saw me, she paused. "Oh, my God. Leon, what happened to you? You've gotten so skinny. You look awful, like you've been doing manual labor. Don't your parents feed you well?" Mom came out of the kitchen with a dish and casually said, "He's always been like that. He eats plenty but never puts on weight. He takes after his grandpa. There's nothing we can do about it." When I was seven, I followed Grandpa around the countryside, doing backbreaking work. Then when I came back to the city at ten, I started washing dishes, mopping floors, and scrubbing pots. For more than ten years, no one cared whether I was full or warm. They brushed it all off with one sentence. "He's always been like that." At the table, Aunt Susie praised Luna for studying finance at a top university and having such a promising future. Then she turned to me and asked, "Where do you go to school? What are you studying?" "I go to school in Berton. I study aerospace propulsion—" Mom cut in, saying, "It's something about building rockets. He's always working on that impractical stuff. Who knows if he'll even make any money from it?" I tried again. "Our program received a national—" Dad set his wineglass down heavily on the table. "Alright, enough. Just eat your food. Stop showing off. Luna hasn't even said anything." The table fell silent for two seconds. Aunt Susie tried to smooth things over by putting food in Luna's bowl, and Mom followed suit. Then, without thinking, Mom scooped a few peanuts into my bowl. I was allergic to peanuts. Whenever I ate them, I'd break out in hives. The itching would keep me up all night. I said, "Mom, I'm allergic to peanuts." Mom didn't even pause. "You're a grown man. Why are you still so fussy? How can one person have so many problems?" Luna muttered, "Just don't eat them then." I didn't repeat myself. Mom remembered Luna's dislike of cilantro and that her yogurt had to be kept refrigerated. She also remembered that Aunt Susie couldn't have spicy food. Yet, she thought nothing of my allergy. When Aunt Susie was about to leave, she pulled out some money and gave it to Luna. Then she looked at me and started reaching into her pocket. But Mom smiled and stopped her. "He's already a junior in college. We don't do this anymore. He can earn his money. Let Luna have it. Girls need to have some extra money on them when they're out." I stayed where I was at the table and watched Luna happily tuck the money into her pocket. No one wanted to hear about my program that accepted only 30 students nationwide. No one wanted to see a national scholarship award. Even the money wasn't meant for me. Chapter 3 On the fifth day of the holidays, I received a data usage warning on my phone. I'd already used 1.8 GB. Any more and I'd be charged extra. So I asked Luna for the Wi-Fi password. Without even looking up, she rattled off a string of numbers. It was her birthday. "We changed it two months ago. Didn't you know?" I didn't. Just like I didn't know when the living room had gotten a new couch, when they added a dishwasher to the kitchen, or when my old room got its own bathroom. After all, whenever anything in this house changed, no one thought to inform a guest. That afternoon, I went to the supermarket to get my gear ready. I bought jackets, hand warmers, and thick socks. At checkout, I also grabbed a pair of cotton slippers. I wasn't going to put them in the shoe cabinet. I'd take them straight to my room and placed them beside my suitcase. When I walked in, Mom spotted the shopping bag and frowned. "Why buy this in the middle of the summer? Got money to burn?" I put the bag down. "The school project is sending us to Nettle. It's cold there." After a pause, I added, "I probably won't be coming home for a long time." Mom was folding Luna's clothes. She didn't stop or even look up. "When have you ever come home often? It's good for a man to go out and see the world. Stop thinking about running home all the time." Luna came out of the kitchen to grab some fruit. She caught the last part and casually added, "Leon, then I won't keep your junk around anymore." I looked at them and said, "Okay." That was the last time I'd test them. And still, I got nothing in return. That night, I packed my bags and unzipped the inner pocket. The envelope where I'd kept 800 dollars was empty. I'd spent 40 days working ten-hour shifts at a cafe that summer. It was twas supposed to cover my travel expenses and my living costs for the first two months. I went to Luna's room, holding the envelope. She was curled up in her chair, scrolling through her phone. She didn't even look up. I demanded, "Luna, did you take the money I kept in my bag?" Luna removed one earbud. Her voice was nonchalant as she said, "Oh, yeah, I did. I bought my boyfriend a birthday present. I'll pay you back later." "I'm leaving the day after tomorrow. I need the money now." Luna finally turned around, frowning. "Seriously, Leon? I'm going to pay you back." Mom's footsteps came from behind me. She didn't bother to check what was going on before snapping, "Why are you yelling at Luna? So what if she spends some money on her boyfriend? She has to put in some effort if she wants him to like her. Can't you be a little more generous?" "It's not a loan. She took it straight out of my bag without asking." Dad came out of the bedroom too, his expression dark. "What's the big deal? Do you really have to make a scene over this? You're her brother. Can't you just let her have it?" He pulled out his phone and sent me 300 dollars. "Happy? Now knock it off." "It's 800 dollars," I said. Dad paused and looked up at me. "800 dollars? Didn't you tell your mom a few days ago that you were out of money? You had all this money hidden away, yet you still came to us pretending you had none and tried to get more from us." "That was the money I earned working over—" "Enough!" Dad slammed his phone down on the table. "You're a grown man hiding money and lying to us. How am I supposed to trust you? And now you want Luna to pay you back? What kind of brother are you? You've spent all these years studying, and you've learned nothing!" The three of them stood there, looking at me, like I was some unreasonable stranger making a scene. I turned and walked out of the house, the door closing behind me. It was only then that I realized I'd left my phone inside—and I didn't know the code to the new door lock. The motion-sensor light in the hallway went out. I sat down at the corner of the stairs, my back against the cold wall, waiting for someone to come out and look for me. A few hours passed. I could hear the TV and their laughter. Later, the lights went out, and everything went quiet. At 1:00 am, I knocked on the door. Luna opened it, yawning. Her eyes were barely open. "Leon? Why are you standing outside? Couldn't you just key in the code?" "I don't know it." She paused. "Oh… Remember it. It's my birthday." I sank onto the couch. My ankle had gone numb from resting against the cold stair railing for so long. No one would mention the 500 dollars again. Chapter 4 It was the day of my departure. At 10:00 am, everyone was home. Dad was watching the news in the living room, Mom was preparing Luna's favorite soup in the kitchen, and Luna was in her room, playing on her phone. I folded the blanket into a neat square and draped it over the arm of the couch. Then I put the old pillow back on top of the cabinet on the balcony, and I washed the glass from the coffee table and put it back in the kitchen. The living room returned to its clean and empty state, just like before I arrived. No one could tell that I had lived here for a week. I grabbed my suitcase and walked to the entryway, bending over to tie my shoelace. Four pairs of slippers sat neatly inside the shoe cabinet: Dad’s, Mom’s, Luna’s, and Luna’s spare pair. It looked exactly as it had on the day I came home. I picked up the pair of slippers I'd bought and held them in my hand for a couple of seconds. Then I shoved them into the zippered compartment of my suitcase. The suitcase wheels rolled across the living room floor with a low rumble. Dad didn't even look up. "Heading out?" "Yeah, I'm going back to school." "Oh," he said while changing the channel. I dragged my suitcase past the kitchen. Mom had her back to me as she stirred the soup on the stove. She didn't turn toward me. "You're leaving?" "Yeah." "Oh. Take the trash out on your way. I won't have time to wipe down the kitchen counter later, so do that too." I stared at her back. "Can't. I have to catch my ride." Mom clicked her tongue. "Then close the living room windows before you go. Don't let dust get in." I kept walking, dragging my suitcase past Luna's room. Or, to be more precise, my old room. The door was wide open. She was curled up in her chair, scrolling through her phone. She glanced at me and casually waved. "Leon, you're leaving?" "Yeah." "Oh." She then went right back to her phone. I walked to the entryway. My eyes swept over the hooks on the hallway wall one last time. Three keys hung side by side, with blue, red, and black cords. There was no fourth key. A handwritten note from Mom were stuck under a magnet on the fridge. "Luna goes back to school on the 10th. Bring beef jerky, yogurt, and new sheets. "Luna's having a gathering this weekend. Book a private room. "Pay the heating bill before the end of the month." There wasn't a single note about me. I opened the front door. Behind me, the TV was playing the noon news. I could hear the soup bubbling in the kitchen, and laughter from a short video drifted faintly out of Luna's room. Everything in this house went on as usual. As though I had never come home at all. I pulled the door shut, and the lock clicked into place. No one came after me or asked when I'd be back. In the elevator, I took out my phone and left the family group chat. A message appeared in the middle of the screen. "You have left the group chat 'Our Family'". I held down the power button, and the screen went dark. As I walked out of the building, the wind hit me in the face. The world was full of noise. I was the only one dragging a suitcase quietly toward the subway station. An orange stray cat darted past my feet, rubbed against one of my suitcase wheels, then looked up and meowed at me. I crouched and rubbed its head. "You're the only one seeing me off." It narrowed its eyes and brushed its tail against the back of my hand. I stood up and didn't look back. The consent form was still in my pocket. Mom's and Dad's signatures were so messy that they looked like two quick scribbles. I took the guest slippers with me. … Three months later, Mom sent a message in the family group chat. "Leon, are you coming home for New Year's? Your dad told me to ask you." But there was no reply. She was shocked when she scrolled through the list of group members. At some point, the group called "Our Family" had only three people left.