Dear Dahlia // B1

[1]

-two weeks before I met them-

"Lia! Just get out of my room!" Julie screamed at me.

"Julie, this is my room too," I said sitting on the edge my bed.

"Fine! Then I'll get out," she huffed.

"Fine by me," I say, pulling my phone out and scrolling through Instagram.

"You're the worst," Julie mumbled as she stormed toward the door.

I saluted her with two fingers and clicked my tongue. I could almost hear her eyes rolling as she walked out and slammed the door behind her.

I shook my head before putting my eyes back on my phone screen. At first, it sucked to always be fighting with Julie, but over time I had gotten used to it. After she was done just sitting in our room and crying all day, she started getting angry. She was angry with me, with Carlos, with Dad, even Tià. What really made things difficult for her was when she got angry with music. She stopped writing, stopped singing, stopped playing piano, and eventually she stopped even going into the studio anymore.

There was a soft knock on the door and I put my phone down.

"Come in," I said.

"I know you and Julie are fighting again," my dad said as he stuck his head in the doorway.

"Yeah," I said. "I don't think I should stay in here tonight."

"Why, Lia?" He asked, coming over to sit on my bed.

"I just don't think it's a good idea," I could feel my lips tense into a line. "I think I'll stay out in Mom's studio. Julie doesn't go out there and I know she'd rather not see me right now."

"She's just-"

"Upset. I know," I nodded. I stood up and kissed his forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Papa."

"Goodnight, Mija," he said.

I grabbed a spare blanket off the couch as I walked out and head down to the garage. I pulled open the big double doors and stepped inside. I flicked on the lights and shut the doors behind me. I sighed and walked over to the couch.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I said. "I can't help Julie. I don't know how. I could really use your help right about now."

I looked up at the chairs hanging from the ceiling, as if waiting to see my mom sitting on one of them. I huffed and laid down on the couch, pulling the blanket over me.

"Goodnight, Mom," I said, closing my eyes.

*****

I woke up on the couch, still hiding under my blanket. The sound of a guitar being tuned forced me to open my eyes. In front of me, there were two boys with their backs to me. I sat up, wanting to say something to them. Ask them how they got into my garage, who they were, what they were doing here. But my mouth couldn't form the words and my throat felt too dry to make a sound.

There were amps set on either side of the little nook they were standing in. A drumset was set up behind the amps, with a huge black curtain hung against the wall. The words Sunset Curve written over it.