Spring [Completed]

SEVENTEEN

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Cara

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mo• men• tous
adjective

1. (of a decision, event, or change) of great importance or significance, especially in its bearing on the future.

"Trust takes years to build, seconds to break, and forever to repair."

—Unknown

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People change and forget to tell one another.

At least that's what happened to my parents. They've really done a shitty job of depicting the concept of love and relationships.

To me, love is a jaded concept. It isn't kind and it isn't always happy. It can be messy and awful and downright depressing. Other times it can be magical. I haven't seen the magic in person. I get that version of love from rom-coms and tv shows. Real life love to me is a burden. I see it in my parents eyes every day. The pain and the hurt and the anger...so much anger. But it's not like that for everyone's parents. So maybe mine just aren't in love anymore... I don't really like to think about that notion very much.

When I wake tonight, like I often do, to the yelling and shouting voices of my near and dear parental figures, I groan, pulling my pillow over my head to block out the sound. They often do this late at night, when my father comes home late or my mother's particularly agitated by something he's done. Every single time, I never fail to be woken up by them—one of the many perks of being a light sleeper and having a room on the first floor, but hey, at least I get my own bathroom.

Most nights I ignore them. It's easier to feign ignorance than address the secrets and demons that my parents possess. They're so fucked up, it makes me never want to become an adult. At least not an adult like either of them.

I'm about to grab my earplugs from my nightstand when I hear his name. Ethan? Why is everyone so enamoured by this guy?

I sigh, wiping my tired eyes and sitting up straight. I pull the loose straps of my tank top back onto my shoulders as get out of bed. After doing do a quick stretch and readjusting my bonnet, I tell myself that my sudden urge to pee is merely coincidence and not because my bathroom is the perfect vantage point for eavesdropping and sleuthing—neither of which I am ever guilty of. Obviously.

When I get to the restroom, I kneel on the toilet seat and gently press my ear against the wall. The voices are faint, but as I focus I can make out the gist of what they're saying.

"Because I didn't expect him to be there!" My mom shouts, and I squint, straining to hear better. "Is that a problem?"

I don't hear anything for a while, and just as I've pulled my ear away, assuming they've left the room, I hear my dad's muffled voice through the wall. "...know how I feel about that man. Especially given your history..."

I pull away from the wall and sit back on my knees. Scratching my brow, I frown. I knew there was more to his story than she was letting on about.