Complicated

Parents

"Stupid mirror," I mumbled. "Stupid fucking suspension," I kicked a rock into the sewer on my walk home.

When I opened my front door, I gulped and my entire attitude changed.

"I can explain," I meekly told my father who was towering over me in a seething rage.

His reaction to the incident at school wasn't "Are you injured?" or "Is everything okay?" It was more "You dumb slut got yourself suspended from school and now I owe them money."

"Two hundred and fifty dollars!" he yelled.

"I'm sorry, dad. It won't happen again," I tried to keep a brave face.

"I'm gonna make sure of that," he said unbuckling his belt.

"Dad," I breathed pleadingly. 

My dad hadn't used the belt on me in years. He usually prefers throwing whatever is in his hands at the moment and using his fists for discipline.

The belt in his hand came down on me twenty times. By the end of it, I was a bloody mess, half-conscious and lying on the kitchen floor.

"Get yourself cleaned up. You're getting blood all over the place," he sneered in disgust. I guess that was his only concern after beating his child.

I dragged myself to the bathroom and looked in the mirror to assess the damage. I had gashes and forming bruises all over my back and legs.

I slowly lowered myself into the tub and the water quickly turned pink and only darkened as more time passed.

My dad broke the lock on the door and stumbled into the bathroom. He looked at me and the bloodied water in the bathtub.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked taking a sip of his beer. "You look awful."

"You're unbelievable," I muttered not even trying to cover up. He's drunk, he doesn't remember what he did earlier and he won't remember this conversation later.

I pulled the drain and wrapped myself in a towel.

"I'm going out," I pushed past him.

"Bitch," he grumbled.

I got dressed and packed a bag. I climbed down the fire escape and limped through the streets and onto the subway. Somehow I made it to my mom's.

"Sweetie, you're a little early," she said answering the door.

It was about four thirty and dinner was at six.

"I know, I just couldn't wait to see you," I told her.

"Well, come on in," she said.

I looked around at the apartment. It wasn't much nicer than the one I live in with my dad, but it was slightly larger and felt homier despite the fact that I was rarely there.

"What happened to your hand?" She asked seeing the bandages wrapped around my fist.

"I just broke a mirror. It's nothing."

"You don't look too good, Maya," my mom said concerned.

"I know, I had a long day at school," I responded.

"Why don't you take a nap on the couch," she offered. "I'll wake you up when I need help setting up."

"Sure," I said unenthusiastically.

I was confused since I have my own bed, but I nodded and laid down on the couch in the living room. I woke up about an hour later to the smell of something delicious.

That's something I've always missed when I wasn't staying with my mom.

"It smells really good, mom," I said walking into the kitchen.

"Oh, it's just chicken," my mom said.

"Dad doesn't cook that much, it's nice," I told her.

"How is your father doing?" she asked while tossing a salad.

I paused trying to decide how to answer.

"He's the usual," I said.

"I know I work a lot, but you can tell me if you ever need anything."

"I know, mom. Everything's fine," I smiled to convince her.

"Can you please finish setting the table?" my mom asked, buying my lie.

"Sure," I said making my way over to the table.

I look at it questioningly. There are seven places set.

"Are you expecting more people?" I asked.

"Yes, Shawn invited some people."

"Where is Shawn?"

I haven't seen him yet and there's only an hour until dinner.

"He had a work assignment upstate. He should be here soon."

And sure enough, the door opened and in came Shawn Hunter.

"Hi, Katy," he started kissing her.

"Ahem," I fake coughed.

"We were just kissing, Maya," my mom said.

"More like eating each other's faces off," I gagged.

"Oh, Maya," my mom playfully hit my arm on a bruise.

I skillfully hid the pain with a forced laugh. Thankfully, neither of them noticed.

"Hey, kiddo," Shawn said awkwardly going in for a hug.

"Hi, Shawn," I responded. "Who are these people you invited over?"

"Two of my closest friends and their two children," he answered. "You're gonna love their daughter. I think she's around the same age as you."

"Do these friends have names?" I asked curiously.

"Topanga and Cory Matthews," he answered.

I didn't recognize the first name, but I definitely recognized the second one. Cory Matthews, a mop-headed teacher at my school.

And their daughter, the one and only Riley Matthews.