Listen, Obey

31. Thirty-First Lesson

Matthews strapped Tilia in the car, still wearing the frown that slowly seemed to become a permanent fixture on his face. I knew it was my fault, but I wasn't going to relent.

I jumped into the front seat, avoiding to interact with Matthews in any sort of way while he got in and started the car. The tension between us was draining. It was thick and sickly to the point where I imagined that I could smell its poignant odor.

Salt and slush from the road landed on the windshield as we drove. The wipes worked soundlessly, but their movement held my attention away from the general inactivity around us. I could have gazed out the window, watching perfect houses pass by on our way out of the suburbia, but those houses only reminded me of the neighborhood where I grew up. A neighborhood where I was the odd one out.

My parents appeared normal to everyone else, but they never forgave me for the accident. They never looked at me the same way ever again. We should have been a happy family of five, but the four-year-old me put an end to that.

An accident. A horrible, terrible accident that I had to live with even if I hardly remembered what happened. They never spoke of it in front of me, not even my big brother, but I knew it was constantly on their minds.

My fault.

I shook my head as I caught the sight of a swing hanging from a large tree, lonely in a huge garden. Nauseous, I heard my baby sister's laughter, slipping out from her rosy lips seconds before she fell to the ground. That was the only part I could still see as a movie playing inside my mind. The rest was a blur.

"You okay?" Matthews asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Wasn't that a pretty lie?

The silence descended upon us again, and I was surprised. I thought he would want to keep the conversation going for a while, but I couldn't fault him for staying silent. The pain he felt was evident on his features and in the tone of his voice. That pain certainly made it more difficult for me to keep the distance between us, especially since the memories of my sister slashed me open all over again. Those memories would never let me go. I would never be free. I needed him, but I hated that feeling of vulnerability. The second I let him in, he would see just how ugly I was. He would keep me away from Tilia.

She sat in the backseat, clutching a paper in her small hands. Every now and then she would look at it with an uncertain gaze. She was unusually quiet. Perhaps she noticed the tense atmosphere. Strike the 'perhaps'. I felt bad. She was caught in the crossfire, and it was unfair.

"What are you doing back there, Tilia?" I asked, determined to distract both myself and her.

"Nothing," she replied.

"Have you painted something?" Matthews asked.

"Maybe."

"Can I see it?" I asked, turning my head over my shoulder

She placed the sheet of paper against her chest as if to protect it. "No, not yet."

"Is it for Ethan?" Matthews asked.

Tilia blushed and he chuckled, looking at her through the rear-view mirror.

I didn't know what to say or how to deal with the situation. It was obvious that the drawing was for me An oddly heart-warming gesture from a child I couldn't help care about. Had she known about me, she wouldn't have drawn anything. She would be scared.

"Maybe we can see it later," Matthews continued, and Tilia's blush receded. "We should go by the toy store later to buy some new crayons."

"Yes, please Daddy. Please!" Tilia's embarrassment flew out the window, replaced by pure excitement.