I keep my eyes glued to the window, chasing the power lines with them as we speed down the road. Neither one of us says anything. We know that when we break the silence, we can't take back any of the words we will inevitably throw at each other.
After almost 30 minutes, I start to let my mind wander to better things, but as always, my peace is shattered along with the silence. "I think this trip will be good for us," my dad says. He sends a smile my direction, expecting me to return it with some sort of feigned happiness. "I don't think anything is good for us at this point," I mutter quietly under my breath hoping he won't hear.
...
"Tell me why I have to take care of everyone in this house." Sam started while she picked up one dirty dish. "Tell me why I have to take care of her." She never made the mistake of saying my name directly, but I always knew she meant me. Why did she have to take care of me when she married him? That was her intended stab at my dad.
"Let me do the dishes," he deflected, "you go rest." With a sigh, Sam left the kitchen and stormed off to her bedroom; the only place in which she ever seemed happy. I waited until I heard the door slam behind her to walk out from where I was sitting. "Why do you put up with it?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "She's my wife and I vowed to love her unconditionally." He gave me the same answer as he always did, but I hated it even more than the last time.
I felt tears well up in my eyes as my anger grew. "But what about me?" It was more desperation than a question. "What about your love for me?" He turned around and looked at me with cold eyes. "I love her." Out of everything, those words cut the deepest.
...
"Don't pull that attitude with me," he says, barely glancing over. I don't bother with a response. Nothing I say or do will ever make him listen to how much I'm really hurting. He only took me on this trip so I wouldn't move out like my mother did all those years ago. When I was little, I was so confused and angry with her for leaving, but now I understand why she did it. She didn't leave, she escaped.
"We need to talk about this if we're ever going to fix it," he says firmly. I take my eyes off the window just to roll them in his direction. "There's nothing to fix. Don't you get that?" That makes him even angrier. "I have done everything for this family. I work so hard to make sure you have a roof over your head, but you've been nothing but ungrateful."
I turn to look at him, eyes burning with years' worth of rage. "You did everything except love me." I look back out the window, ruining any chance he had of responding to me. My eyes search for the power lines, but they're gone. With nothing to follow, I watch the trees and count down the days until I'm home.
