No Strings Attached

Chapter 13: The Boy in The Closet

Steering along the concrete road, Dad kept his cool. 

He didn't complain about the abrupt stoplights, heavy traffic, or the thick clouds of gas flying inside the car windows.

But as for Mom, she hates it when he drives.

Other than the toxic pollution floating in the car, Mom didn't like the congested traffic, the stares from nasty drivers, and the lights switching red at the last minute.

She even gets cranky when Dad switched the station to CNN News, where they would repeat their stories over and over again.

Frowning at her carefree husband, Mom says to him: "Honey, can we put on some music?"

But Dad twists the steering wheel, shaking his head in disapproval.

"We can't, Maria," he says. "I want to hear what's going on in the world."

Mom crossed her arms. "We have all heard the news before; a forty-year-old store clerk has been shot by a white police officer."

Aria seems surprised, whereas I dipped my head in silence.

Of all the people in Manhattan, Harold Park, a humble man who worked two jobs to keep his family afloat.

He's sweet, caring, and devoted to his ailing wife and five grown children. When we were kids, Aria, James, Marco, and I would sneak at night to eat his famous sugar cookies.

But in spite of his cheerful persona, Harold has the stubbornness of an ox, owns a legal shotgun, and gives hard but fair advice to those who need them.

And we loved that about him.

"Shit, " I mumbled under my breath. "His wife and kids are going to be all alone."

Aria nodded in agreement. "Harold didn't deserve to die."

"Neither did any of those unarmed black kids cops keep hassling every day," responded Dad, checking his gas mileage.

We were heading North when a third red stoplight prohibited us from moving.

Letting the cool air blast her face, Mom said to us: "As much as I feel sorry for that store clerk's family, I am tired of listening to his death 24/7."

"Doesn't CNN have anything new?"

I simply shrug my shoulders. "The truth is hard to ignore, Mom."

"Hell, it even scares you, but the world is blind. No matter how many times you try and open everyone's eyes, they will always close them."

Eventually, the stoplight turned green as Dad accelerated forward; but as for Mom, she turns her head to check if Aria and I are okay.

"We're doing fine, Mrs. Jackson." smiled Aria.

Mom smiles back then turns her gaze to me.

"Baby, are you okay?" she inquired.

I nodded solemnly.

Lowering the radio volume, Mom asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, " I groaned, messaging my sore head. "I just have this stupid headache."

Ever since we left the hospital, I have been receiving these weird migraines. Although they had vanished this morning, the headaches returned whenever an intangible force appears.

I don't know whether it's the heat or stress, but I desired nothing more than to get medicine to soothe my aching head.

While Dad continues to drive, Mom proceeds to check my forehead.