The Runner

Lei

To any onlooker, it was your usual family dinner. To my siblings, it was your usual family dinner. To my parents and me, it was something else. I didn't know exactly what "else" it was, but I could read it all over my parents' faces. The soft glow from the flickering candle in the middle of the table illuminated every worry line, every crack, and every concern in both of their faces.

My dad was listening to Rune talk, but he wasn't really listening. My mother tried to. Whenever Rune would look at my father for a response, my mother would begin a thought and my father would join in, agree, and finish it. Something was wrong. My dad always had an opinion. To everything. It was actually quite annoying. So you could understand my suspicion when he sat there barely speaking. No one else seemed to notice, but I did.

The clatter of plates and forks, the hums from tables around us, the entire atmosphere disintegrated between them; they were alone at this table in this restaurant trying to collect their thoughts and desperately, quickly figure out what to do.

The car ride home was quiet. Rune was sleeping and Leo was listening to music, yet there was an undeniable tension that blanketed the car. I could feel it seeping into my clothes like water, making them feel heavy and hard to carry. My father and mother did not say one word. His eyes never left the road. His knuckles turned white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. As we turned down our block, my dad slowed down and turned off the headlights. I straightened my back against the black leather seat that, tonight, felt rigid and cold. I couldn't figure out what was going on...

I wiped off the condensation from the mirror as best as I could. I should've taken off my mascara before I showered. It always startles me when I look in the mirror and see it running down my cheeks. I look like a different person. I opened the cabinet and took out the cotton balls and bottle. Gently, I traced my skin where the black ink covered it, removing it lightly so my skin didn't turn red. I brushed my teeth, put my robe on, and threw my hair up in a towel. I opened the door, and the cool air lunged at me, sending shivers throughout my body, bouncing off my bones.

"No, Corey. We can't. Not again." My mother's voice was a hushed whisper that seemed to crawl up the stairs inch by inch and reach out for my ankles like her words were trying to pull me down to a dark abyss below me. "We just have to face it. There is no escaping this time."

"Yes, we can. Do you know what we're facing here? There is no way around it if we stay! We have to leave. Now."

"That's ridiculous, Corey! I will not leave. I will not abandon them. If you want to leave, leave. You've always been a coward..." Her words were dripping with poignant, venomous anger.

I walked to my room, hopping around the weaker floorboards, so they didn't hear me eavesdropping even though every part of me wanted to stay and listen. I slowly shut my door behind me, finally letting myself exhale the breath I didn't even realize I was holding. My head was throbbing with ideas that could explain what was unraveling below me, ideas that I desperately wished were true. I felt my stomach turning with the uneasiness of not knowing, of not having control. I hated it.

I heard my parents' door shut; I told myself to let it go. Their problems were theirs and I didn't need to be involved, but I still couldn't shake my father telling my mother to walk away from us, to leave us in our rooms without saying goodbye, without parents, without a family. Whatever was going on, whatever they were running from, was going to find to them.