Fireworks

24

I sit at the table cautiously, looking between my parents with no small amount of confusion. I'm home after work now, and had freshened up and dressed appropriately before coming to the dining room for dinner.

The last time we ate dinner all three of us together was the night of Colton's funeral. Maybe we did on Christmas, but I can't really remember all that well. I just know it's been a while, and whatever it is they need to speak with me about can't be very pleasant. After overhearing their fight the other night, and Dad's recent drunkenness, I have a very bad feeling.

We all serve ourselves in silence, and while I normally eat as quickly as possible while my mom checks email on her phone, this time the attention's on me.

"Hadlee," my mother starts, her businesswoman face on, "Your father and I have been discussing what's best for our family at this time, and have decided that your father and I need to take a brief break."

I blink.

Well, she wasted no time.

"Jesus, Amilia." my dad breaths, rubbing his face. "You couldn't even ask how her day was?"

I just blink again, taking the information in. A brief break. What does that even mean? What does that entail? If they haven't been 'taking a break' for the last seven months, then I don't know what to call it. They haven't slept in the same room in god knows how long, every time my dad comes home sober all they do is argue, and when they do try to communicate, my mother isolates herself all over again and sends my dad off the deep end.

"She knew we were going to be having a serious conversation, Henry, there's no point in beating around the bush," she states calmly, though I do see the fire in her eyes when she glares at my father.

I bet they had an argument before this.

My Dad just sighs and turns to me. "I'm sorry, Hadlee, for how I've been behaving lately. I think it's safe to say that this year has been difficult for all of us. However, it doesn't condone your mother and I bickering all of the time. Our relationship has suffered because of the situation, and it would be best for me to stay away for a little while." he says softly.

My mother is rigid, and I can tell by the way she bites the food off of her fork that she wants to contradict something my father said, but she holds it in, probably as ready for this conversation to be over as me.

I nod a little and study him. He apologized, and probably means he's sorry for coming home drunk so often the past few weeks.

And he brought up Colton... kind of.

I have to appreciate at least that much of the speech, no matter how difficult the news is.

They seem to wait for me to say something, and I take a sip of water before saying, "Are there time parameters on this break?"

"Your father will return when we see fit." my mother answers immediately.

I nod, an intense feeling of sadness washing over me. I feel bad for my father, I wonder if this was mutual or if my mother just wants him out.

"Where will you be staying?" I ask my dad, who looks sorry as he measures my reaction.

"I've rented a small apartment about fifteen minutes from here."

Damn, so there's a lease. That means he'll be there for a while.

I just take another bite of my food, eyes on my plate. A heavy silence fills the room, and I'm not sure what they want me to say or do to make this easier on them. I mean, their relationship is obviously not healthy, and I'm not one to tell them how to fix it. I don't know everything that's been going on. I can't say I'm necessarily surprised, but...

This whole situation just makes me miss how my parents used to be when Colton was alive. They were never exceptionally affectionate, not towards each other or Colton and I, but they had their sweet moments. We'd eat meals together as a family and listen to stories about Dad's work and Mom's clients. Colton and I would talk about school and books we were reading.

We had been a whole family.

One piece of that whole is taken out and everything crumbles.

"You can go see your father whenever you want, and he's welcome to visit you here, but right now we both need some space. I know you understand." my mother says curtly, though there is a certain softness when she looks at me again.

I can tell they feel guilty, my dad more so than my mom, but still. I don't want them to feel bad about it.

"I do understand, and hope that things can change for the better soon," I say as evenly as possible, though the sadness from before is still washing over me in wave after wave.

Why did he have to die? I knew this would happen eventually. I knew it'd all fall apart.

And who am I kidding, a small break turns into a long one, and eventually they'll want a divorce and I'll be shipped between houses every other weekend. I don't necessarily want them to stay together and be unhappy, but I just wish so badly that they could have come together in our time of need instead of drift apart.

It left me feeling like a flag in the wind, whipped this way and that.

"Good. You're dismissed when you finish your food." my mom says, setting her own fork down and pushing her plate away, though she stays sitting.

I just stand and head towards the stairs. As soon as I'm out of the dining room I hear my father hiss, "Really? You're just going to send her out like a dog? She is our child, Amilia, and we need to-"

"If we start treating her like a child now, you can't expect her to take care of you as an adult would when you come home drunk." she hisses back, her voice venomous.

"That's unfair, I told you I was trying to be better. You can't use this against me now."

"I can use whatever I want..."

I make it up the stairs and close my bedroom door softly, leaning against it and sinking to my knees.

I hate feeling this way, I hate pitying myself like this.

I know I'm beyond lucky. I live in a gorgeous house in a lovely area. I'm safe and never have to worry about where my meals are coming from. My parents have steady jobs and we're well off financially. I'm able to do well in school and have time to myself to do things like read and play the piano.

I lead such a privileged life, it sometimes bothers me how lucky I am compared to some people in third world countries, or even kids at my school that can't afford to do things like take the ACT more than once like me, or don't have the time for extracurriculars because they have to work or take care of their siblings to help their family.

I can see all of the sad and painful things in the world, and I feel like such a waste that I wish I could just absorb everyone else's pain into my own body.

I have no right to feel so sad.

I chant this to myself as I get ready for bed and lay under my covers for hours, though I never do fall asleep.