Mia Hill. College bound with an athletic scholarship. A go-getter with big dreams and a fully thought out plan to make sure they come true.
But with her father's release from prison looming and the inevitable stresses of adulting, everything she wa...
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"Danny, we have a real problem here."
"You're overreacting, Vera. Everything is fine."
"Everything is not fine. This situation is out of control."
"Well, it's going to be fine. Eventually."
"You always say that..."
I keep my post on the steps, listening in as my parents argue. They don't do this very often.
Of course, everyone gets into it now and then, and they've had their fair share of screaming matches over the years. Many of them right in front of me and my little sister. But that's never from carelessness or bad timing.
Unless it's something really serious, they don't usually take their arguments to another room. In most cases, a fight that starts in the kitchen ends there, same goes for any other room in the house. And if they happen to have a small audience, in the form of their children, we're rarely told to leave.
Mom always says you shouldn't hide the bad parts of marriage any more than you should hide the good parts. They're both important.
I'm okay with it. For as long as I've been alive, their fights have never lasted long, always ending in healthy conflict resolution. I feel fortunate that they've always trusted me and my sister to witness it, talked us through it, and raised us to understand what strong relationships look like.
Not that I've had much use for that advice yet. But that's not important. The important thing is that they don't hide it from us.
You know what I wish they would hide though? The fucking make up sex. Or any of the sex, for that matter. I could do without those sounds drifting down the hallway when I get up to pee in the middle of the night. But I guess I should be relieved they're still in love after all these years.
Not to mention, happy. Almost irrationally so.
If it's not the disgusting sounds of parental coitus flowing down the hall at any given time, it's the sound of their laughter. My dad is always making my mom laugh. Like, what the fuck is so funny? The dude is not that clever.
She's not laughing right now though. Nope. They're having it out in their own little way, and this might be the one time I'm not invited to listen in. Because it's me they're arguing about.
Mom's voice drops low. "He was driving drunk, Danny."
"Not technically," is Dad's quick response.
Yes, technically. But I haven't told them that, and I never will.
"I know that. But he had been drinking."
"He said it had been a couple hours since he had a drink. And he was sure to take a piss before he got behind the wheel."
