Bitter

seven - cal

"Cal," Mom said from the dining room table, "can you come and sit down, please?" Dinner was all spread out; a steaming bowl of broccoli, corn on the cob, and some kind of fish were staring at me, much like what my mom was doing at the moment.

"No thanks," I answered, spinning on my heels and heading for the stairs. I already had a plate full of everything on the table anyway and was planning on eating in my room. Mom hated when I didn't listen to her, which is exactly why I didn't. She wouldn't let me get away with that though, which is why I wasn't surprised when she called me back sharply.

"That wasn't a question, Cal," she lowered her voice, "sit down." She pointed at the chair across from her, but I stayed where I was. Mom acted like her finger was some magic wand that would make me do whatever she asked. Maybe it had worked when I was younger, but it didn't work now.

Mom was the only one at the dinner table, the other three chairs empty. "You just want me to sit there so you can yell at me," I muttered, quickly losing my appetite the longer I stood in front of her. "If Dad can eat in the living room, I can eat in my room."

"Cal," Mom's tone of voice served as a warning, "I want you to sit down and eat here."

The sound of the TV in the other room was barely audible, but Mom and I both knew Dad was in there, watching whatever channel he did every night, and he would be turning up the volume very soon.

I glared at Mom and a single word slipped from my mouth. It was just one word, but she hated it so much, especially if it came from me. "No," I said slowly. We both stared each other down for a little longer and at first I thought she hadn't been fazed by the word. I was wrong though. It was like nails on a chalkboard to my Mom's ears and she sprang out of her seat, rounding the table.

I was still holding my plate with the steaming food in my hand when she marched up to me, flames visible in her dark eyes. "You don't talk to me like that, Cal," she demanded in a harsh whisper. This was the time when she'd usually explode and unlike other times, I was standing right there in front of her, right in the eye of the storm. Mom could be kind of scary if she had to be and I'm not sure what made me continue to stand there. Maybe I was paralyzed with anticipation. Anticipation to see how much damage I could really do to her, how mad I could really make her.

The TV grew louder.

We were glaring at each other again, both of us silent, waiting for the other to make the next move. It was my turn. Instead of playing her little game, I destroyed it entirely and knocked over all of the pieces.

"Sitting down at a table won't make everything normal again, Mom," I countered, "I know you think it will, but it won't."

The volume on the TV increased once again.

Mom snatched my plate from my hands and in all her fury, threw it towards the kitchen. It shattered into a good amount of pieces (broccoli and fish splattered on the fridge), and I didn't even notice I was looking at it until Mom's shouting sliced through my stunned state.

"Go to your room! Now!" She yelled, tears welling in her eyes. "Now! Just leave already!"

This time, I listened. I decided against bringing up the fact that I had initially wanted to be in my room in the first place, that everything was working out in my favor. When passing Dad (who was watching some old movie with the volume as high as it could possibly go), I decided against turning off the TV, just to see him react to something, anything. As I walked up the stairs, I decided against asking Mom if when she had told me to leave, she had meant leave the family and not just the room.

———

   I was lying on my side, staring at my alarm clock, the red numbers displaying it was half past midnight. My stomach was growling, but I didn't feel up for going downstairs and heating something up in the microwave while my dad slept on the couch in the other room.

   My hand found my phone on my nightstand and before I realized what I was doing, my fingers typed quickly to Jason, Zach, and Marco. It was a relief they were all awake and instantly typing back.

   My stomach did all of the talking. Anyone want Willy's? Willy's was some forgettable fast food place I always drove by on the way to school but never thought about until now.

   Jason typed back first. What?

  Who's Willy? Zach's message read.

   Like I said, Willy's was forgettable and their messages just proved that.

   Willy's, that place next to the CVS? I clarified. There weren't any new texts from anyone until Jason, Zach, and Marco all replied at the exact same time.

   Sure, said Zach.

  When? asked Marco.

   Right now? Jason had typed.

   Yeah, I answered back. The three of them all said yes and finally I could see it. A hot, chicken sandwich waiting for me in a paper bag with a side of salty fries. That was all I really wanted. Now would be the time to sneak out (I'd done it plenty of times before) and meet up with everyone (and my sandwich).

   I sat up and quietly swung my legs over the side of the bed. Standing, I put my phone in my pocket and opened up the window, feeling the cool, night air touch my face and gently blow my messy, dark hair back. Now was the time.

   Mom and Dad haven't caught me sneaking out before, and they wouldn't catch me tonight either, so I wasn't too worried about that. I started to wonder as I climbed up onto the window sill what Dad would do if he found out. I already knew Mom well enough to clearly see me getting grounded for who knows how long, but with Dad it was different. Would he keep it a secret? Would he pretend he never saw me (like he always did), even if he had? The white light of the moon caught my eyes and I wondered what was worse. Having Mom care too much or have Dad not care at all?