Things at home were different. 

But whether it was different either because there was a new addition to our family or different because this new addition was surprisingly treating me well, I couldn't tell. 

We were seated at the dinner table. Usually it would have just been my dad and I. Now, it was my dad, Aunt Delancey and I. She had prepared a meal for us and I was unwilling to admit how good it tasted. I sat there in silence, chewing on my food. I should've made an attempt to strike up a conversation, but it felt odd having another person there with us. This situation reminded me of when Aunt Delancey called me a freak at the dinner table years ago. Did she still feel the same way? Was I still a freak in her eyes? Perhaps I was. Perhaps she just didn't want to admit it because she didn't want my father to call off the wedding. 

I was sure that spending time with Aunt Delancey was having a negative effect on me. The red that once surrounded her so vibrantly had now begun to lose its shimmer. I wondered why. Perhaps it was because my brain was having a difficult time adjusting to all of this. Adjusting to the idea of Aunt Delancey marrying my father. 

"The wedding is in two days," dad started, breaking the silence. "Juno, do you remember Uncle Neil?"

I nodded. Uncle Neil was dad's sister's husband. He one of my favourite relatives. He was always so lively and cheerful. 

"I've chosen him to be my best man," he confessed. "Do I have the Juno approval?"

I nodded. I figured I was being disrespectful so after I'd swallowed my food, I cleared my throat and began, "That's a great choice."

"I'd suggest not showing up for the first hour," Aunt Delancey suggested, looking at me. "It's going to be pretty loud."

"Thanks for the heads up," I said, still suspicious. "I'll just bring headphones."

The silence overtook us again - the only audible sounds being the sound of forks and spoons hitting the plate or the sound of obnoxious chewing (my dad) - and I couldn't help but take note of the look my father and Aunt Delancey gave each other. There had been a portrait of my mother and my father from their younger years hanging on the living room wall when I was about twelve. In the picture, my father had his arm around my mother and was looking at her with the most loving eyes whilst she stared off into the distance with a grin on her face. He was giving the same look to Aunt Delancey. He got rid of the portrait after he had had a meltdown one night since the picture was a painful reminder of the love he had lost. 

It was strange seeing my father in love. It was strange seeing my father wanting to take care of somebody with strings attached. It was strange that this love was reciprocated. Not that my father was unlovable, but he was a mess. He had let himself go after the loss of my mother and had even grown his beard and hair out. He would rarely ever take a shower or brush his teeth. The past few hours that I'd spent in this house was the happiest I'd ever seen him. He even said that he was planning on shaving his beard and getting a haircut the following day to prepare for the wedding. 

This was why I was suspicious of Aunt Delancey. I couldn't imagine why she would want to be with my father. He didn't have too much money, he didn't have the looks. But he had the heart. I wondered if his heart was what she was after. I wondered if she wanted to use him and leave him in pieces, left alone to gather said pieces and put himself back up together again just like he'd done after my mother's loss. But, when I saw the look she gave him, I found myself reconsidering. The red was beginning to fade. 

I stood up. Rest. I needed rest.

"I'm going to bed," I murmured before leaving the dinner table. 

Tomorrow, I hoped the red would regain its shine. I hoped I wasn't wrong about her. Although, I slightly wished I was.