When the Shell Breaks

Chapter Four

Before packing for every vacation, my mom would make a packing list of all the things we needed. But looking at the packing list she had written for me now felt different. Now the list told me to bring three times the normal amount of t-shirts I would bring if we were going on a normal vacation. But this wasn't just a normal vacation. I would be spending three months of my life attending my mothers business banquets and "drinking smoothie bowls on the beach" as she had claimed in Ms. Wang's office.

I walk downstairs to the kitchen and see my father asleep on the couch in the living room. He had started sleeping there months ago when he and my mom started having "disagreements."

I assume that my mother isn't home right now by looking at one of the missing cars in the driveway and a note on the kitchen counter that says, "Kota, remember to take your medicine." Beside the note is a little pill bottle of zoloft and a glass of water. My mom swore on zoloft, she said it really works and suggested I start taking it too when things started to become stressful between school and my parents. I gulp down the pill with the glass of water she left for me and see my dad shifting back and forth on the couch. By the sound of how he groans as he turns means he's starting to wake up.

"Morning." I say, looking down at my empty glass of water. Dad scratches the back of his head as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Hey," his breath smells like beer as he responds. "How was the party?"

I'm too scared to tell him what had happened, after all, he had thought he was getting me on his side when he let me go.

"Fine," I lied. "I made some friends so you know."

A smile spreads across his face, "Well now that gives you all the more reasons to stay right?"

That's one way to put it.

I think my parents both believed that they were the better parent, but in reality, I didn't want to stay with either one of them. My dad was an irresponsible man who looked homeless half the time and my mom was a rich, responsible, but controlling woman. They never truly knew me and because of that, I don't think I ever truly knew myself.

"Are you packing for this summer yet?" He asked. Surprisingly, I didn't think he would be interested, in fact, I thought that just the thought of it would make his knuckles curl into fists.

"Not yet," I tell him. "I don't know how."

Dad smacks his lips as he makes his way to the fridge and pours himself a glass of water, "That's because you want to stay with me, obviously." My dad lets out a laugh to indicate he's joking but deep down, I know he means it. It's something he can't hide.

***

That night I stared at the empty black suitcase. I look at my mothers packing list. By year seven, I had memorized everything my mother had put on the list but I still bothered to check it anyway. Except this time it was different. In a sing-songy voice, my mother barges into the room.

"Dakotaaa," She says. "Are you excited to spend the summer with me?"

I mumble a mix of the words yes and no. My mother walks over, puts her hand on my shoulder, and looks at the empty suitcase. She doesn't say a word but I know she's angry.

"Kota, I gave you the summer packing list two days ago." I don't say anything and my mother continues, "Don't tell me you want to stay with your father and not me." She sits down on the bed and tucks my hair behind my ear, "You know your father won't be able to take care of you. And wouldn't you like to have a fresh start in Maine with me?"

I move her hand away. Of course I want a fresh start, but I don't want it to be with my mom or dad. My mom lets out a sigh, walks over to my closet and begins to take the clothes off of their hangers. She neatly folds them into the suitcase.

"I don't understand why I have to pack," I tell her. "I still have a couple of days before I leave."

My moms observes my light blue "special occasions" dress then throws it into the suitcase. "You're not packing for a one week vacation, Kota, you're packing for a whole summer."

"This is bullshit." I mutter under my breath. My mother looks up, her serious but content face now washed over with confusion and anger."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"No, tell me, what did you say?"

My mom has never heard those words come out of my mouth though I'm seventeen and it was bound to happen at some point. I don't respond, not because I want to give her the silent treatment but because I have nothing to say. My parents tossing me back and forth is bullshit. My mom throws a pair of shorts on the bed then says with an aggressive tone beneath her voice, "I'm not doing this with you right now." Then storms out of the room.