All Tables Turned

Chapter 4: Disappointed

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I could feel my body depress further and further into the thick polyester of the car seat as my mom and I drove home from the hospital in unmitigated silence. She kept a tense, yet firm grip on the steering wheel, as though it were fueling her with the stability she needed to continue living. Her pupils pulsated rapidly as she fixated her gaze on the road ahead. Her hair was tangled in terrifying knots, a crystal clear reflection of her state of mind.

As I stare into her dismal, lifeless eyes, I can't help but see what these past few years have turned her into. I see a broken, battered woman who's been given an excessively generous supply of grief and heartache. Brutally abused by her husband. Carelessly shunned by her family for her transgender child. Constantly taunted and ridiculed by her oldest son - her former pride and joy - Xavier.

My hand momentarily rises to console her, but there's a lurking fear in the back of my mind telling me that even the slightest touch would be enough to drive her through the breaking point. Instead, I decide to strike up a conversation to distract her from everything.

"Any news about Xavier's university applications?" I ask with a curious, counterfeit tone in my voice. I realize at the word "Xavier", that this was possibly one of the last things on Earth she would want to talk with me about right now. Time and time again, she's suspected that Xavier was the source of my cuts and bruises. My collapsing grades. My silence. But I never confirmed it for her.

I can feel her glaring at me through her peripheral vision, her scarlet irises flaring with unstable agitation.

"All rejected. He'll have to apply to community college," she says robotically. Her entire aura was wracked with frustration. As we zoomed over a bridge, I couldn't help but feel like she was considering taking that frustration out on the car - and both its passengers. I immediately shun the thought and focus my attention on comforting my mother.

"Well, I can't say I'm --"

"August," she says with burning vexation. There's a petrifying rasp in her voice that sent rapid ghosts up my spine.

"Yes, mom?" I asked hesitantly. She averts her gaze from the road to lock me in her eyesight. Luckily, we'd hit a red light.

"Why did you lie to the doctor?" she asks inquisitively. The resolute look in her eyes shuts down any courage I might have had. I could feel an askance look crawl across my face as my brain violently scrambles to answer her.

"I didn't lie," I say meekly.

"So, you're actually just gonna sit there and tell me that you tripped once and suddenly you have cuts and bruises all over your body?"

"I was climbing a tree."

"Funny that you didn't mention that at the doctor's. That would've been helpful information, wouldn't it, August?" The rasp in her voice becomes more pronounced - almost horrific - as her scarlet eyes begin to burn with unadulterated rage.

Ashamed of being caught in my own lie, I hastily avert my gaze from her. I hear her heave a heavy sigh as she steps on the pedal again. The light's green.

As I press my face against the cold, hard surface of the window, I catch her faintly whispering under her breath. Her rasp disappears and the sheer grief present in her voice breaks me.

"I'm so disappointed in you, August."

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