Unreciprocated Feelings Between Me And You

chapter | f i f t e e n

fifteen | sound and silence

"WHERE? WHERE DID you bring my money this time?" Mommy asks in a straight voice the moment she gets home, her expression blank. She's trying to be calm but I can feel her growing anger. She's radiating fury.

No. Please, no.

I transfer my gaze to Daddy. He doesn't even bother to look at her. He keeps his eyes trained on the television. "It's with me," he says but even I wouldn't have believed him.

I don't know whether or not I should be upset or relieved he's lying so that she wouldn't get mad. Sometimes I wonder if he ever gets tired of it, but there are moments in time when it's apparent he doesn't.

"You fucking bastard! You motherfucker!" Mommy suddenly shouts, startling me and my sister.

I immediately look over to Geraldine and I can't help but pity her when I see that she's shaking in her seat, eyes full of fear.

"I'm asking you properly, George, so give me a decent answer! Tell me the truth! Where did you bring my money?! Where is my money?! Where is my money?!"

I want to tell Mommy to stop nagging Daddy about it. I want to tell her not to push him, to just let things be. Because I know-I know-his patience is wearing thin. And she'll suffer the consequences.

But I can never bring myself to get in the middle and force them to stop. I want them to stop-for their sake as well as for me and my sister. But when anger consumes them, they transform into other people. They lose their senses and they become unrecognizable. They scare me.

"I'm telling you it's with me! I'm telling the truth! Why don't you believe me?!"

"You fucking liar!" Mommy shouts at daddy again. I panic in my seat when I see that tears are beginning to form in my little sister's eyes. "Their school just emailed me! They're reminding me to pay for our children's tuition! I told you! I fucking told you to pay for their school! That money was for their school! Where did you bring my fucking money?! Where?!"

"You don't have to know where I brought the money, Maximillian!" is the only answer my father gives. "Why don't you believe me?! Why don't you ever fucking believe me?!"

"Where the fuck is my money, George?!" Mommy demands, stepping closer.

My father hits the table, shaking it wildly along with everything atop it. Geraldine and I jump in our seats and I even see fear flash in Mommy's eyes for a second. I take that as my cue to get my sister out of there and lock us inside our room.

Their endless screaming immediately follows. I can imagine their faces yelling at each other, going red, veins popping out. I can imagine the desperation, the frustration, the sheer need to find out the truth and to get answers. That image of them is forever engraved in my mind.

And then comes that all too familiar reverberating sound of a palm hitting skin.

There goes that thin wire of patience. It finally snapped.

"Fuck you!"

Another slap.

"You won't stop talking! You won't stop nagging!"

"Fuck you!"

Another slap. And another. And another.

"S-Stop!"