… thank you.
No, no, not thank you. Actually, it should be screw you because it’s so quiet in here I’m getting a headache, however that works.
I told you guys, I’m done. I’m ready to throw a party or something, now come out from behind the couch or wherever.
If so, I surrender.
I’m starting to think we are. As a matter of fact I’m beginning to think it started a long time ago and we just missed the memo.
Yeah, I think so. I just kinda napped through that memo, and then I slept more and then I was like, “Where the hell is everyone to wake me up?” so I came out here looking for everyone.
If so, I surrender.
Her parents were fighting. Curses were being thrown out of mouths left and right; Lux was listening involuntarily from her bedroom, crying softly as she hated when her parents fought. She didn’t know why they argued so much, or even what over. It was just a constant happenstance for her. It was something she was so used to, that it often didn’t even phase her when they snapped at each other over the dinner table, slamming forks down into the polished wood out of anger. This time, however, they were fighting about her.
“I’m worried about her!” Her father screamed, obviously quite worked up at this point. “She’s been acting strange, and she won’t talk to anyone, and—”
“You’re not worried. Don’t you dare lie to me about my daughter when you don’t even know what’s going on in her life! You’re never around, you never see her, nothing! Do you even know anything about her?” Her mother was sobbing. This came as a shock to Lux; she had never heard or seen her mother cry before.
Why were they arguing over her anyway? She hadn’t done anything unusual or strange or worrisome: and even so, they should all be sitting down talking calmly about it instead of having a screaming war in the front room. She could picture it perfectly in her mind; her mother would be seated on one of the two white leather sofas, and her father was probably pacing in front of the mahogany coffee table, holding his face in his hands or running his fingers through his hair out of anger.
“I’m worried because I don’t know how she’ll react to this. The divorce and all,” Her father replied. He was calmer now, speaking softly as if he knew that his daughter was listening in from the top of the stairs, her ear pressed against the door as she struggled to hear their now-whispered conversation.
“Well she’ll be fine.” A snapped response came from her mother, who had probably stood up and moved into the kitchen by now, as her voice seemed further away. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”
“Alright. We can tell her when you leave.”
Why hadn’t they told her sooner? Lux supposed they were waiting for everything to be final before she figured it out; even her little eleven-year-old brain knew that. She was just disappointed that her father was leaving her, deserting them once more, like the many times he had before. She had to be okay this time.
She had to be okay.