Cat & Drew's Whirlwind Adventure

7. Who You Are Now

Another week of the same old thing leaves me tapped out in the emotional capacity department. Mom and dad have been fighting a lot, I knew they could, but my god, they're going strong on five days straight. It started over me, the way it always does, and while it's since evolved to cover everything from dad's teaching to the mail, they're mostly still fighting about me. It's tough being in the middle, it's not like I get any enjoyment out of it, and if I thought I could force myself to face any of this then I would have caved already and agreed to go to therapy.

It's just not as simple as that, I don't have any idea what to do when I feel so helpless, especially when I can understand exactly where each of them is coming from. They're both trying to do what they think is right so they don't have to bury a child. I grab my phone and press play, blaring music from the speaker it's connected to, louder and louder until I can't hear anything else. It's the playlist Troy made for me, and while it's filled with a lot of songs from a bygone era, as I suspected, he managed to pick ones I actually do like. Plenty of Taylor Swift too.

I find the stupidest meme to text back to him, laughing quietly at the absurdity of it—both the meme and my willingness to partake in such a dumb competition. I can't let him win though. We've been on this kick ever since last night, I blame it mostly on having nothing else to do during my lockdown, which, coincidentally, my mom extended last week when she eventually learned I had snuck out. All in all I'd say it was well worth it, Troy ended up being weirdly good company, and plus he's been helping keep my mind off stuff since. Him and Cat both, actually.

A smile, usually more befitting him, crawls across my face when I think about him. I think about what we talked about, I think about the view, and then my gaze drifts over to land on my closet, and I think about what I told him too. Then I'm not smiling anymore. My back flat on the bed, I lay on top of the covers and stare up at the ceiling, retracing the hundred lines I know so well. How many nights did I lay awake and stare up at this same ceiling? Too anxious for a swim match the next day, or a big test, or some grand adventure I had planned with my friends. They're only lines but they still house so many happy memories, it's almost painful to think about them now.

Painful like the monster in my closet, or the blade I took to my arm. I had been such a different person then, light, fun, unburdened, hard to believe one night—one summer—could bring all of that crashing to the ground. And now? I can't go there, same as with my parents arguing I refuse to waste another second on it so I decide to text Cat. Unsurprisingly she voices her support for me to sneak out to meet her, despite the exciting homework she will no doubt have to tear herself away from. After a few exchanged messages we decide to meet up at the park, pretty even walking distance between the both of us.

Though I'm trying to avoid taking sides in their argument, my dad is right in saying that the perpetual state of grounding my mom keeps me in has made it lose its effectiveness. Like, what's she going to do if she catches me sneaking out again? Ground me some more? I'm screwed either way but at least this will be for something I can be proud of. Down the stairs and right through the back hall, and same as before neither of them hear a thing outside of the angry rhetoric they throw at each other. It's even more sad when I realize I can still hear them outside, and suddenly I feel bad for the neighbors.

Despite the fact that literally no one would notice, or even give me a second glance if they passed me on the street, I pull my hood up to shield my identity as I jog across the road and on towards the park. I had considered maybe reaching out to Troy instead, but if he doesn't already think I'm a total mess then running to him with my problems again would certainly give him a big push in that direction. I don't want to be a burden, to anybody. That's not how it is with Cat though, I'm not entirely sure why, but it doesn't feel like complaining with her, it just feels like sharing. It's like we're the same, she and I.