The Quiet

Nightmares and Cats

I woke up with a sudden start. My hands were shaking and my throat was raw. I was screaming and crying in my sleep.

Like a five year old.

My mom came into my room, seeing me taking heavy breaths. "Tara, sweetie?" She asked, walking over to my bed. "Nightmare?"
I nodded, swallowing as she wrapped her arms around me. The dream played over in my head, mixed with the memory it stemmed from.

"What ice cream do you want?" My mom asked. "Vanilla soft serve. Large." I replied. She nodded, heading over to the ice cream stand. I walked down the shoreline, picking up shells as I went. My dad came over and handed me the ice cream. "Thanks." I said, licking the side. He smiled and picked up a shark's tooth, putting it into my bag of shells, rocks, and other beach things. "I love Florida." I told him. "Well, this part of Florida." He replied. My dad was right. We lived in the northern part, near the Georgia border. The sun hit on my back, tanning my normally light skin. "You're going to get a sunburn." My dad told me. I sighed. He took off his t-shirt and handed it to me. I slipped it on, smiling. Suddenly, there was a distracting shout. I turned, and saw a woman pointing behind me. When I looked back, a ten foot wave crashed into me an my father. The wave dragged me under as I screamed and choked. I couldn't see my dad. Every inch of me hurt. My head came up above the water and I gasped, shaking. Three people swam towards me and I shouted as loud as I could "Dad!" My head went back under and the last thing I saw was my dad's body floating towards the surface.

My mom took my hand and snapped me out of my trance. "Want to go for a ride?" She asked. I nodded. My sister, Moe, walked into my room in one of my dad's old shirts. "Can I go?" She asked. "Only if you tell me why you're awake." My mom retorted. "I heard Tara screaming." Moe replied quietly. Mom sighed. "Fair enough." She said softly, and we all went out to the car.

I stared out the window as music played through my earbuds.

"The sun sets longer
Where I am from
Where dreams go to die
While having fun..."

Troye Sivan is my idol. Along with Brendon Urie and Gerard Way.

All the emo music.

I faintly heard my sister tell my mom we should stop for ice cream. I smiled slightly. My mom was about to protest when she saw my mouth curving up. She sighed and pulled into the small parking lot. She knew what I wanted, so I stayed in the car while she and my sister went up to the window. I could see my mom exchanging conversation with the man at the window as he scooped the ice cream. We knew him somehow. We know everyone. That's both a plus and minus of living in a town with two hundred residents. My mom smiled at something he said as he handed the ice creams. My mom walked back to the car, sitting and handing me the chocolate soft serve cone. I nodded slightly as a thanking while she turned the key. The car roared to life and I stared back out the window. When we hit the state line twenty minutes later and started to turn around, my eyes were drifting shut. I was tired, and so was my mom. I could see it in her eyes as she drove. We headed back to our house and very slowly, the world went to darkness.

When I woke up in the morning, I was laying on the couch with Mom's heavy afghan blanket over me. There was a note on the coffee table in Moe's messy handwriting.

"Went to school. Mommy is at work. See you later. -Moe"

I had to hand it to her for spelling everything right. She's only six. That kid is probably smarter than I am.

I sat on the couch and watched TV for a while. Crime shows were my favorite. Criminal Minds, Forensic Files, Major Crimes, anything else. All but Law and Order.

I hate that show for undetermined reasons.

I watched Forensic Files until my stomach grumbled, explaining its hunger. I sighed and stood, walking into the kitchen, starting the coffee maker and brewing a cup for myself. I made some toast with Nutella and sat down at the counter, eating my breakfast and thinking one thing to myself.

I am such a white girl.

The problem is, I'm not even white. I'm mixed. My mom is white, and my dad was black. And yet, I have the personality of a white girl.

The whitest of white girls.

My cat, Mochi, jumped up on the counter. She purred and rubbed her face against my shoulder. I rubbed behind her ears and she purred even louder.

You sound like a motor boat.

Mochi laid on the counter, curling up. I scratched in between her shoulders as she fell asleep. I ate my toast and walked back into the living room with my coffee. Mochi followed, jumping up next to me when I sat down. She wormed her way onto my lap and laid there, looking up at me.

What do you want?

Her eyes responded to my thought.

Pets and snuggles and cat nips, pwease.

I wish I were a cat. It would be so nice. Maybe then I wouldn't be seen as strange for not talking. Cats don't talk. They don't have to.

Let's all be honest.

It would be great to be a cat.