Existed Once

One

"How was school today?" Ash's mother greeted him with the classic parental greeting sentences from the kitchen as he kicked off his shoes.

"Fine." He grunted.

"Do you have a lot of homework today?"

"No." He slung his bag down by the couch and cracked his laptop open.

"Would you like some pasta?"

"'Kay." Because as a boy you still don't turn down food no matter how angsty you may be.

Ash wasn't on the closest terms with his mother. Maybe it there wasn't any roots behind it, but simply a small gap that had widened over the years, with neither actually making the effort in pulling the relationship together. Or maybe it was one-sided on his mother's side to try and his to rebuff her.

It wasn't as if he really cared, anyway. He had his set of online friends, anyway. And one more person...

The sound of a key being turned in the lock could be heard a few hours later.

"Hey Dad." Ash called as his father entered through the door. He grinned his first grin of the day.

"Hey Ash." The grown man reached him and ruffled his hair, then crossing over to the kitchen, when he greeted "Hi, honey", putting an arm around her waist. Then they embrace.

Ash averted his eyes. Get a room already.

The couple was a more outspoken one, meaning that they would kiss, embrace, and openly show love, be it right in Ash's face or not. Whether he appreciated it or not.

At least, that was usually how things went.

That was yesterday. Today Ash had a mildly interesting day. He had been returned an A+ report (believe it or not, not every teenage kid flunks his subjects), scored a goal for his team while playing soccer, and was in generally higher spirits than he would usually be in.

He reached the landing and looked at the floor. A pair of soft leather work shoes were placed at the doorstep. Dad's home early. Ash's father usually returned after he did and got settled down, but it was rare that he would be home early, given the madness in the rush hive that was his workplace, what with all the deadlines and servicing. He unlocked the door and headed into the living room. He heard voices coming from the kitchen a few steps away. He made towards it, preparing to yell hey dad!

The words died in his throat before they made their way out. Because the voices he was hearing wasn't normal, casual speaking voices. They were loud, and one was hysterical-sounding.

"—years. It's been years and you're still thinking about Phoebe?" That was his mother. She sounded like she was crying.

"I should ask you how you are not! But I won't have to. You never did care, did you. What a pity for her to have you as her flesh and blood." Dad.

Then, "Had I known what you'd done, I would never have agreed to meet you all those years ago, at that time."

There was a long silence, and it seemed to be so tense Ash could almost hear his own breathing. Who is Phoebe? What flesh and blood?

Then his mother let out a high-pitched wail. "You didn't love me, did you? You were always using me, using me as her alternative! In your eyes she was the important one! You look at me and you saw her, you only always saw her! NOT ME! Well then, let me tell you, we are DONE! I don't need you! You can get out of this house, get out of my life! And take your son with you! He never loved me either, just you. See what I mean? This entire world is just against me!" She seethed and raged, and Ash could see his mother, with a tear-streaked face, standing right beside the kitchen counter. His dad just looked stony, gripping several pieces of paper, and a worn notebook, tightly in his hands. Now he tossed them on the counter.
"You can keep that. I don't want to—to see this filth. What you even call your thoughts. You are just evil, Melanie. I never knew you had this sort of heart." His voice sounded like a snarl.
Ash's mother reacted just as promptly by snatching up a sheet of paper and shredding it to pieces. They spread like papery wings and drifted around calmly, a complete contrast from his mother's state. She grabbed the notebook and flung it back at Ash's dad, who simply let it thud to the floor.

"Get out!" His mother screamed. "Go and find a lawyer, got that? I'm done. Let me tell you, I'm not putting up with this any longer! Go ahead and do it! "She reached behind her to the bracket of cutlery, with something in her hand, and Ash's heart almost stopped, it was something glinting, it was sharp— his dad let out a noise of shock and flung up a stool nearest to him, to defend himself.

She swung her arm wildly around, but it was futile—she was way too hysterical, with Ash's dad largely in control. But he dropped his temporary barrier, and made a dash past Ash for the door before he could get impaled, which Ash was to realize that he forgot to lock—probably a blessing.

They probably did not even know he was home, standing there in a frozen state, watching the first violent argument Ash had seen in all his years. Then something came sailing out of the archway of the kitchen, almost taking his eye out, its hook snapping off as it struck the floor: an umbrella. Then his mother appeared, eyes bloodshot, now less hysterical than miserable.

She stared at the door like she was considering breaking it down, seeming to register Ash right beside it, and then spoke with so much injected venom it could have overrode the strongest antidote, "You choose who you'll go with! I hope you have enough intelligence to tell who's right and wrong! Just wait for the lawyer!"

With that she stormed into the master bedroom, slamming the door behind her, leaving the open door, her shell-shocked son, and the ruined umbrella at his feet.

Ash's father didn't return. And Ash's mother spent the rest of the day shut in the room, so Ash ended up making dinner with the microwave for himself. The usual warm-till-it-was-cheesy atmosphere had been dissolved in a matter of hours. And Ash still had no idea what was going on. A Phoebe, not loving, and wanting divorce. Simply all that was giving him a headache. He wanted so badly to call his dad, ask him what had happened, but as his dad had left without it he was literally unreachable. And he was not about to ask his mother in a million years.

In the end, he went for the least feasible method: searching up his laptop. It isn't something I know about, but since it's a topic to make them so agitated, it could have been very big news. It wasn't hard, their last names weren't common. He keyed their names, as well as another 'Phoebe'.

There wasn't much he found. If there was probably anything, it had happened many years ago. I guess it had already been removed.

His dad came home in the early morning. Drunk. He had woken up to the small beam light visible in the living room from his bedroom, and hurriedly pretended to be asleep. In a few moments he felt someone enter his room. A coarse, warm hand ran over his head.

"I love you, son." Ash heard. He could smell the alcohol that his dad reeked of. His dad, who always never consumed alcohol in any large amounts. Even so, his dad kept talking, and he kept his eyes shut, all the while hanging on to everything he said.

"I'm sorry about what you don't know. I've only just discovered the truth for myself this morning. I could never have imagined—" he choked, then plodded on, "I always loved Phoebe. Even when she was gone, I couldn't stop holding on to her memories. And Melanie was one of those memories, I thought maybe staying with her could keep Phoebe alive between us. But I never knew she actually chose not to save her. All this time I was wrong about her. I'm sorry, Ash. No matter what happens between myself and your mother, please remember none of it had to do with you. This was a mistake on my part."