Skies Do Fall

Ram was surprisingly silent about Brendon for the rest of week at school. I personally thought I was left to endure a hell of a week and have to hear her ogle over Brendon and how far their minor companionship had stretched. But all was well.

Mrs. Kenning said I must have been touched by an angel when she handed me back my recall of the writing assignment. I didn’t know what she was so surprised about till I flipped the thin sheets over and saw that I had gotten an 85.

I should have been blissfully and irrevocably ecstatic about these positive occurrences, but I wasn’t. I was far from happy.

My father sneaked off into the night that whole week. Not just one day. Not two. Or three. But five fucking days in a row.

There he would go, two thirty in the morning, all cloaked up as though he were a superhero concealing his true identity. He’d scamper down the steps almost mutely discreet, had it not been for the restraining creaks of our floorboard. Then he’d get into his car, fumble with his keys as though he were an overjoyed and hysterical five year-old going to meet Hannah Montana, and speed off down the street to leave me torn staring at the tire marks his wheels left behind.

The sad part was that I couldn’t even cry anymore.

It was like I had been drained of tears. My heart felt moldy and unwholesome, almost as though it weren’t there anymore, keeping me alive. I could scream, but I didn’t want to. I felt no need to show the emotions spiraling around my entire body, taking up the space that kept me sane.

And apparently I wasn’t just dying on the inside.

Tristan and Brendon constantly pestered me about how inoperative I was acting. I wouldn’t argue or laugh or barely even talk. I was just a lump, a dummy outlook of a human being without the true functions that made it real.

Ram didn’t seem to notice or care. We kept up our studies and she played along with our charade, managing to steal Brendon’s eyes and attention various times. Things were going well for her and him, and I tried not to dwell on the swelling of my valueless heart when I witnessed the true chemistry.

A week went by, all the same. Then two weeks. Then three more weeks. And finally a month.

December. Christmas. The happiest time of the year, right? Wrong. Oh so wrong.