Beyond Boundaries (Mommy's Angel)

Forty four

The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the floor as I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands nervously twisting in my lap. The room feels too quiet, too still, like it's holding its breath along with me. Leah's been coming home later and later these days, and when she's here, it's like she's not really here. There's a distance between us that I can't figure out how to bridge, and it's been growing wider with every passing day.

The quiet isn't comforting; it's oppressive, pressing down on my chest like a weight I can't escape. The kind of silence that leaves room for too many thoughts, and none of them are good. I glance around the room, my eyes lingering on the photo of us on the nightstand. We're smiling, holding hands, a moment captured in time when things were simpler, happier. I want that back.

I've tried to talk to her about it, to ask what's wrong, but every time I do, it ends in an argument. And not the small, petty kind we sometimes have, but big, ugly fights that leave me feeling hollow and hurt. It's the fifth time this week we've fought, and I'm starting to wonder if this is just how it's going to be now.

I trace the outline of my own reflection in the window, the glass cold under my fingertips. I wonder if she even sees me anymore, or if I'm just another obligation she has to fulfill at the end of the day. The thought makes my stomach churn. I don't want to be that, just another burden she has to carry.

The front door slams shut, the sound echoing through the house like a warning bell. I flinch, my heart racing as I listen to Leah's footsteps coming down the hallway. She doesn't even bother to greet me as she passes by the bedroom door. I swallow hard, feeling a lump in my throat. I know what's coming.

It's like the air in the house shifts when she's here. What used to be warm and welcoming now feels cold and hostile. I don't know what to do with that, how to make it better. But I can't keep ignoring it. Not anymore.

I push myself up from the bed and follow her into the living room. Leah's already there, tossing her bag onto the couch with more force than necessary. Her face is drawn tight, her jaw clenched. She's angry. Again. What is going on?

The tension in her body is like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. I want to reach out, to touch her, but I'm afraid she'll pull away, that she'll reject me. And that might hurt more than anything else.

-Leah, can we talk? I ask, my voice small, even to my own ears.
I'm trying to keep it calm, to not set her off, but I can feel the tension rolling off her in waves.

Her back stiffens, and for a second, she doesn't respond. When she finally does, it's with a sigh that sounds like she's holding the whole world on her shoulders.
-Amaya, please, Leah sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose as if trying to hold herself together.

Like I'm already getting on her nerves.

-But I just want to talk...
-About what, Amaya? Leah snaps, turning to me. What is there to talk about, right now?

Her eyes are cold, distant, and it cuts me deeper than any words could. She's never looked at me like that before, like I'm the enemy.

-I hesitate, feeling the familiar sting of her words.
-I don't know. Maybe about why you've been coming home so late? Why we keep fighting?

Leah lets out a sarcastic laugh, one that doesn't reach her eyes, making my whole body shiver.
Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.

Her laugh is bitter, and it sends a chill down my spine. I've heard it before, but it's never been directed at me. It's like she's someone else, someone I don't recognize.

-You really want to do this now? After the week we've had?
-Yes,...I do, I say, trying to stand my ground. I'm tired of dancing around the issue, of pretending everything's fine when it's not. I don't know what's going on with you, Leah, but you've been in an awful mood, and I don't understand why. We keep arguing over stupid things, and...I don't like it.