The Storms Of August

Chapter Twenty Eight: Say Something

I had an afternoon to myself when I got back home. It had snowed at least two feet while we were gone. In addition, a cold front came in to swirl around loose flakes of snow and freeze my face off. I was okay with it though. It was refreshing in a strange, slightly painful way. However, tears were still fresh and had frozen to my face when I walked through the door. 

I went into the living room, where my dad was preoccupied with the football games on the television and my mom read her home improvement magazine. When they heard me, both heads looked up and gleamed at me. "Honey, I missed you!" My mom squealed, getting off her chair and squeezing me tight. 

"Glad you're home, kiddo," My dad smiled, motioning for me to go to him. 

I hugged both my parents, smiling as best I could while they asked questions rapid fire. I answered them all honestly, subtracting a great deal of drunken mishaps from the vacation before relaying the good time. 

"And who'd you go with again?" my dad asked. "Stella-"

"D-Stephanie. Her name is Stephanie." I corrected. Both names were wrong, but if you're going to lie about it, at least be consistent. 

"Stephanie, Nick, and Joe. How is the young man anyway?"

I stared blankly at the face in the window across from me. The girl I saw looked so sad. Her skin was newly tanned but the skin under her eyes was a deep shade of solitude. A fist curled into itself like it was missing the hand it fit into. Lips slightly parted could not speak, only remember when they were soft and vulnerable. Her cheeks were wet with salty water and her throat held the sound of her ocean waves. I looked away from her. My parents, especially my mother, looked at me with deep concern. 

"I'm sorry," I said weakly, "I'm very tired, I'm going to get some rest." 

I turned and walked slowly up the stairs to my room, wiping the now free falling tears from my face. I left my suitcase by the door and crawled into my bed, letting my pillow have all my sorrow and my rage as I heaved into it's feathers. I kept my eyes shut, they hurt when they were open. I was tired, I'd slept maybe five hours in the last day and a half. But I couldn't sleep. My brain was too restless. I stopped my muffled sobs when I heard footsteps stop at my door. 

"Honey," My mother said gently in a calling tone. She was very quiet for her. Normally she was pretty flamboyant, bubbling place to place whether she knew what was going on or not. Even though I could tell she meant nothing but to be here for me, I didn't want her. She wouldn't understand and even if she did, I couldn't tell her most of the story. 

"Please leave," I cried into my pillow. I didn't sound as daunting as I was going for. I sounded exactly how I felt. I hated being the teenage girl in all the movies that lost her jock boyfriend to a bimbo in another class. I'd never been that girl before. This skin was too tight on me but I wore it anyway. 

My mother disregarded my weak request and slowly came to me, sitting slowly on the edge of my bed. I felt her thin fingers massaging my scalp and combing my hair gently. She didn't speak. She let me slow my sobs until I could breathe without sounding like I had asthma. She wasn't leaving, she made that clear by how she sat with all her weight beside me. I thought she was waiting for me to have the strength to answer her, but that wasn't so. She wanted me to be ready. "He cheated," I breathed, adjusting to look at her. She was sad for me, grimacing with downcast eyes directed toward the sheets. 

"He didn't deserve you anyway," She said, brushing a fallen lock out of my eyes. 

"How would you know? You met him once." 

"It does't matter how many times I've met him. If a boy does not cherish a girl like he's lucky to have her than he usually isn't good enough."

"But he told me he loved me."