Rose | Ashton Irwin

chapter twenty five

Rose's POV

Dread had filled my chest all morning knowing that I had to eventually force myself down the stairs. I woke up to something new, the distant sound of screaming. At first I was confused before stepping into the hall to realize it was coming from the kitchen. I didn't have to take a step further to know it was my parents, my mother's voice rising above his.

"How do you not see that it's our fault too?" She yells, louder than I've ever heard her soft voice go.

"I've done nothing wrong." He stubbornly shots back and the image of him crossing his arms over his chest flashes through my mind.

"If we were around more often- if we put in the effort- it- it's our job to teach them! WE can't keep prioritizing work and the office over them." I can hear her beginning to stutter as her voice lowers, cracking. I know she's starting to cry. "They're not the only ones to blame, we're responsible for them."

There's silence for a moment. When it passes I expect to hear them apologizing to each other yet somehow the yelling has resumed. My mind jumbles as I press my back against the wall, listening to the back and forth. I can tell that my mom is pushing through her sobs now.

"You haven't been here either Lori! Don't blame me!"

"I'm not trying to blame you! Why can't you just listen to me?" It continues for what feels like anges until I hear a slam, then more silence. I peek my head around the corner to see that my dad is barrelling down the driveway to his car, hands tangled in his greying hair. Sobs fill the air, floating up from the kitchen. As if on cue loud music erupts from Russell's room, drowning out the noise as if it's not even there.

I see mom slip outside in pursuit of dad but decided to follow Russell's lead, playing music louder than I ever have as I get ready. I try to hold on to my anger toward Ashton, willing myself to put him at fault. I know he's the reason the argument started but I can't feel the same usual burn of anger toward him. I've realized that whatever is happening goes much deeper than my father's anger toward the curly haired boy.

If he had given me a chance to explain the situation yesterday perhaps the morning wouldn't have started so sour, but I have a feeling it wouldn't have changed anything. Dad still wasn't home by midnight when I was tossing and turning in an attempt to sleep. It wasn't until two that I heard the soft closing of the door followed by footsteps.

Russell and I exit our rooms in sync and I'm surprised to see the melancholy smile that he offers to me. I know he must have been doing the same thing I was, blocking the abnormal yelling in an attempt to pretend it's not happening. I can't force myself to smile back though and take the first steps down the stairs, him following behind.

When we get to the kitchen dad is at the counter, sipping his coffee. Mom is quiet as she places clean dishes back into the cabinets. "Morning." Our father greets with a casual nod.

When mom turns back around she's smiling, but it doesn't meet her eyes. "Good morning," She chirps, "We'll be taking separate cars this morning- unless you want to go grocery shopping with me? Your father has to stay after church for a board meeting."

It astounds me at how nonchalant she is acting and wonder if she knows that we heard. If they're acting like this either way, it raises the question that their argusing may be more common that I thought. The possibility makes my stomach churn and I immediately push it away. I know my parents, I tell myself, and I know that they don't act like this. They love each other.

Russell doesn't argue like I expect and nods, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "Okay. I'll grab the keys." He retreats to the hall and I hear the clink of the car keys as he picks them up from the table by the door.