Colors//m.c

Six

"Bye Macy." Myrcella waved from the passenger side of the maroon minivan, while my dad is unmoving.

Shocker.

"Yeah. Bye." I wave slightly at the retreating car, more happy than ever that I actually was at home.

The steps that lead up to the  yellow home squeak with every bit of pressure I put on them, and for the first time I actually notice how bad of a shape our yard was in. The grass overgrown, dandelions dotting here and there, swaying in the slight summer breeze. The painting on the house was chipped, and the steps needing to be replaced.

I was home.

I stand there for a second, before shaking my head and making my way inside. I set my bag on the circular table, and start clearing away dishes, scraping the leftover bit of macaroni and cheese into the trash, my mom had probably gotten up to eaten, and left her leftovers on the table.

It was a mess, as usual. I guessed that my mom had had people over, and just didn't clean up. I was not surprised.

I rinse off everything in need of it, and load the dishwasher, starting it. Then I wipe off the counters, and deem the kitchen clean enough.

I then go into the living room, with its familiar overstuffed armchairs, and the shaggy rug over the creaking wooden floor. I check to make sure theres nothing that needs to be put away, and once seeing there isn't, I scoop up my bad and make my way into my mom's room.

I push open the door softly, and peer in at the lump under the blankets.

"Hello..." I trail off once the lump.shifts and a lean woman sits up, her hair frizzy and unmanaged.

"Macy?"

"Yes?"

"Did you have a good time at your dad's?"

No.

"Yes," I lie.

"That's good. Will you hand me my cigarettes?" She pulls a hairtie of her skinny wrist, using it to pull back her hair.

I look at her bedside table, only to see they had fallen onto the ground.

"You have no more." I lie once again.

"Can you run to the gas station, and buy me some?" She thrusts her face back into her pillow, muffling a loud groan, and pulling the floral quilt tighter around herself.

"You know they won't sell to me. I'm not old enough." I take in a deep shaky breath, prepared to leave at any time. I know whats coming.

"You know Macy, your going to have to do a little more around here. I can't do it all."

She didn't even sound mad. Just tired.

And with that, she pulls the blanket above her head, mumbling nonsensical words.

I'm used to this, but each time it happens it stings, nonetheless. On my way out of her air conditioned room, I spot a faded picture. Peering closer, I see a picture of my dad, and her, smiling happily, and hugging eachother, as if afraid to let go. Another picture lays untouched, and after inspecting it, I see a happy scene from Christmas about two years ago. I'm grinning widely, new bangles dangling from my skinny wrists, and a Christmas hat set atop my head. Mounds of presents lay around the family, and everybody seems to look happy.

Now, fast forward two years later. You'll see the father, married without a care for his daughter, and the mother in some odd state, where she doesn't really care anymore.