Pulse

3: November 25

Dad's hollering at Mom downstairs.

Something about her being an "incompetent fucking druggie whore." "She should be so grateful that he won't divorce her because she'd be nothing without him."

It's nothing new to me, they've always fought for as long as I can remember. And Mom's always taken it for as long as I can remember. Mom is 36 and Dad is 63, so there's like a 27 year age difference between them. They met at a photoshoot for Vogue magazine when Mom was 18 and just breaking out into her modeling career. They must've hit it off 'cause lo and behold, one year later, here I come. Their perfect golden boy.

They were never in love, I don't think.

Mom liked his money, Dad liked her body. I hear the maids talk about it all the time, but that's none of my business, is it? My parents' world and my world are supposed to stay separate, but you can't blame me for being a little curious. It's easy to pick up info in this empty mansion.

All I know is they stick it out for the public eye. What goes on behind closed doors, the world will never have to know.

Mom had Oliver when she was 21. Having two babies doesn't turn someone into an automatic supermom. Hell, why do I call her "Mom?" I can't remember the last "Mom" thing she's ever done for us. Most of our childhood was playing with maids or security guards or imaginary friends. If I scraped my knee, I'd have better luck getting a bandaid from Tupac himself than from my own mother.

I guess I get it, though.

If I was trapped in a political celebrity marriage, I'd be takin' to the pills and bottle too.

And she cheated on Dad. Two years ago. That's how we got Theodore, or as me and Olly call him, Teddy.

I'm surprised she hadn't done so earlier. I was hoping that this would finally be the last straw to get them to separate, but apparently not. It only made Dad hold onto her tighter.

Dad can't stand to see Teddy's face. Despite spinelessly voting to try to repeal Roe v. Wade, I remember how much he begged Mom to end her pregnancy. I've never seen him so desperate and pathetic before. He didn't like her "acting out." Hell, he hated having something in the house that wasn't his.

And Teddy has DS – Down Syndrome – which is something else that Dad can't bring himself to come to terms with. He sees it as something he "can't fix", but that's not something he needs to fix. It's not something he even has to fix. Why am I the only person here that loves Teddy?

Teddy's sleeping next to me as I'm writing this.

Whenever Mom and Dad fight, I let him watch TV as loud as he wants in my room. He really likes the cooking channel – especially Gordon Ramsey. I dunno, must be something about the clangs of pots and pans that calms him.

If Olly were still here, he'd be doing his stupid impression of Jacques Torres that always made Teddy laugh.

I really hope Teddy thinks about all of Olly's dumb jokes too.

His happy-go-lucky spirit was the only thing that got us through nights like this and now that he's gone...

Fuck.

I never realized how long an hour was until tonight.

60 seconds.

60 times.

60 muffled insults from downstairs.

Why can't this night just end already?