Red

Too Normal (2)

A white picket fence, freshly cut grass, and perfectly sculpted bushes surrounded a square brick house. It all looked normal. Too normal. That was what bothered me the most. Keeping appearances was the only thing that mattered to my parents, and - no matter what was happening behind closed doors - we had to play the part.

I climbed the steps to the front door, and turned the knob, easing the door open. It was unlikely that my dad was home, but there was a chance that he had called in so he could wait on me to get home. There was a chance he was drinking already. There was always a chance.

The living room was empty. The broken glass from a couple nights before had been cleaned up, and their wedding picture was in new frame on the table. Everything was where it was supposed to be. I snorted. My mom was playing right into my dad's fantasy that we were the perfect family by being the perfect housewife. The perfect housewife that cheated on him constantly. The whole thing was joke.

I dropped my purse on the couch, and made my way into the kitchen. My mom was emptying the dishwasher, humming quietly to herself. Her dirty blonde hair was in a tight bun, and she was wearing a tight blue dress that reached to her mid-thigh.

"Hey mom," I greeted her. I grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator. "Why are you all dressed up?"

"I have meeting."

"Oh, when will you be home?" I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I knew what a she meant when she said she was going to a meeting.

She closed the dishwasher. "I won't be home until tomorrow morning. Can you cook tonight?"

I took a drink of water. "Sorry, I can't. I have to work and I'm going to spend the night at Megan's house. I just came by to get my work clothes and pack a bag."

My mom laid the dishrag down and sagged against the counter. She suddenly looked exhausted. "You know your dad won't be happy about that. He hates when you aren't home."

"You mean he hates when I'm not home for him to yell at, and wait on him hand and foot? I'm not going to stay home and be punished for your mistakes. I'll see you when you get home from your meeting."

Her eyes widened, but she didn't say anything as I stalked out of the kitchen. I hurried down the hall and to my room. I didn't want to chance my dad coming home early, and I didn't want to spend another second with mom. She would just try to guilt me into staying, and I was done with doing what they wanted whenever they wanted it. I grabbed a duffle bag out of my closet, and threw it on the bed. I walked over to my dresser, grabbing enough clothes for a couple days, and stuffed them into the bag.

I yanked my phone charger out of the wall, picked up my brush from my bedside table, and dropped them on top my clothes before zipping it back up. I hoisted the bag over my shoulder, and walked back into the living room.

I heard the sound of my mom's car start and the crunch of gravel under her tires as she drove out of the driveway. I shook my head. Her meeting was nothing more than another fling with another guy. She knew that, I knew it, and my dad knew it; I didn't know why we all pretended like it was something else. I grabbed my purse off of the couch, and walked out of the house, locking the door behind me.

"Hi, I'm Savannah, and I'll be your server today. May I ask you what you would like to drink?" I scribbled the patron's respone onto my notebook. "I'll be right back."

I weaved between the tables, and stepped inside the kitchen. It was sweltering, and the clanging of pots and pans made the small space sound as if we were in the middle of a rock concert. I took a glass from the stack and prepared the customer's drink.