I Won't Call This Hell

I awoke to my mom's cold hands on my face. She smiled when my eyes fluttered open, continuing to run her fingers through my hair. I scooted over slightly in my bed, creating enough room for her to balance herself on the edge.

"What's up?" I asked, my voice drowsy.

She chuckled, "Get up and get dressed. Your father and I want to take you out to dinner." My brow furrowed, my mouth opening for an explanation. "Ah, no. Just come on, let's get going."

She got up, crossing the room. Her heels tapped against the hardwood. She had changed out of her clothes from earlier. Her dress was a deep, navy blue, with white lace around the top of the bust. She had yet to fix her hair, but I could already tell that I needed to dress nicely for tonight. "Quit messing around, Lynnette! Get up!" She pulled my door shut as she left.

I sighed. I really wasn't in the mood for this. Especially since the reason for such an event was a mystery to me. I'm not much for surprises anymore. I detangled myself from my blankets, heading toward my closet. After some consideration, I pulled a soft blue dress from a hanger. I peeled my jeans from my legs, tossed my shirt aside and slipped the dress on. I head to the bathroom to fix up my hair and face.

Dad knocks on my door a few minutes later. It's time to go. I return to my closet, slip a pair of flats on my feet, grab a sweater and my bag, before following my dad's voice out of the room.

**

We go to the same restaurant where we last had dinner with him. I wish I had told my parents thathe we had broken up. Maybe then we wouldn't be eating here.

"So, the quarter ends soon.." The waitress has just brought back our food. Dad is cutting into his steak, bringing up conversation. Just conversation.

I make a humming noise; a yes. "So what are you looking into for next quarter..?"

I look toward my food. I feel like I did the last time I was here. Calm and then flustered. This wasn't right. Wasn't right at all. I should have never lied to them.

"I, um, I'm.."

"What, honey?" my mom says, her voice concerned.

"Um, I.. I dropped out."

Dad drops something, his knife maybe. I don't know. I'm still looking at my lap. "What?"

"I dropped out. I don't go to school anymore."

He doesn't say anything else. Neither does Mom. Our table is quiet. I've lost my appetite, but I eat anyway. It keeps me from talking or looking at my parents. It keeps me from meeting their disappointed looks.