Power of Persuasion

Chapter Two:

My dad came home first, as always. He went straight to the mini bar that was set up in his man cave. He dropped his briefcase by the door, and hung his tailored, tweed coat up on the coat hanger. Grabbing a glass, he'd pick a few pieces of ice up with metal tongs, and drop them into the cup. He'd pour some Whiskey into it, and swirl it around before taking a sip. You had to step down to enter, that room was lower than the rest of the house. The walls were covered in mahogany wall paper. The carpet was stained from drunken nights. The whole room had a thick fog of cigar and occasionally cigarette smoke. The pool table was in the middle, hardly ever used anymore.

It was around 8:00 now. I figured my dad wasn't going to make dinner, so I started. I've slowly taught myself how to cook. My dad being constantly in his man cave, and my mom being gone most the day nursing at the Fred Lind Senior Home when she needs nursing herself. I don't remember what I made, I just remember eating it only because I knew I had to eat something. I don't remember if it tasted good, or if my dad had any.

I remember my mom coming home at about 10:30. I was in my room, working on some homework probably when I heard her scream from her room. Stomping down the hallway, she swung open the door. Her eyes were tired. Her robe draped over her frail and cadaverous body. "Sophie" She stammered "Where is your fathers shirt? I know I folded 7 shirts this morning and put them in the 2nd drawer. You can't just take things like that, you know how much things not being in the place I want them to be drives me crazy. It drives me crazy, Sophie." She closed the door three times before walking down the hallway only because she didn't like the sound the first two made. I think I heard my dad sigh from across the house. It made the whole house shake, and fill with tension. I knew he was getting tired of her, she knew it too.

I took my pill because I knew I had to sleep soon. I hate being helped with something my body should know how to do naturally. I don't need a crutch. I want to be able to do it independently, but I just can't seem to do it.

I dreamed I was speeding down a road in a convertible. I wasn't driving, someone else was. A figure, I couldn't make it out. I was laying in the back seat looking up at the sky. I started laughing as the car sped up. Suddenly, everything went dark. The car slowed down and the lights in the tunnel flashed on. I was now in the drivers seat, flooring the car but it would not speed up.

Suddenly, I was thrust back into reality against my will by my alarm clock. Slammed right back into my everyday routine. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up in bed, reaching over to my side table to take my pills. One Xanax, One Zoloft.

I scraped my hair back into a ponytail and covered my face in the makeup my mom tells me I don't need. I couldn't get Jesse out of my head. His voice lingered, bouncing off the walls in my room. I thought about kissing him. His hands stroking my face, and the other resting on my waist as we touched noses. Sighing my name into my own mouth, he'd move closer to me, touching his lips to mine.

Shaking the thought from my head, I threw on a flannel button up and tucked it into a black skater skirt. I pulled on some knee socks and then tied my black and white oxfords.

I grabbed my backpack, remembered my house key, and left for school.

He didn't talk to me all day. Even when we met eyes in the hallway. I guess I shouldn't expect him to spend every waking minute with me just because we're psych partners. It was last hour and Ms.Galloway was going on about dreams, and how each one of them usually has symbolism for something going on in your life. For example, dreaming that you're falling usually is reflecting feelings of insecurity. Or a car accident represents that significant changes need to be made in your life. She handed out a worksheet so we could get started on our projects. It was a questionnaire with a hidden meaning. I read over the questions and they seemed to have nothing to do with psychology at all.