The Ballad of Michael & Beulah

"Get the fuck out of my house, you asshole!"

Rory winced at the shout and as she heard a bedroom door slam shut from upstairs, causing her to lean her head down to bury her face in the homework she was doing on the living room floor.

"Your house? Who the fuck paid for this house? Who the fuck provided for this...fucking family for the last eighteen years?" The second, and deeper, voice shouted back.

The tension and anger from the fight had wafted downward before the participants had even appeared, so Rory did her best to drown it out. But somehow reading about Charlamange and taking notes out of her History book just couldn't keep her attention like the heated voices were.

She desperately wished Estelle was there to take her away from the house.

Vegas was at his girlfriend's and Bailey was most likely busy failing his last semester of college at UC Berkeley. It was only Estelle who ever seemed to be the youngest Pritchard's refuge these past couple weeks.

"Don't you dare feed me that line of bullshit, Mike! We made the decision a long time ago that I was going to stay home with the kids and take care of the house. And I've made money on the side with my photography that I've put toward the kids' education."

"Great use of that, too. Your son's flunking college for the umpteenth time and neither you or Billie seem to give a flying fuck!"

"Bailey has picked up his grades every time they've slipped!" came Beulah's defensive retort, followed by the sound of what must've been a picture frame crashing to the floor.

Or into a wall.

"Because I got on his ass!"

"We all did. He struggles, Mike. You know that, and don't bring Bailey into this. This isn't about him right now..."

Rory winced some more. Sitting up against the foot of the couch, she closed her History book and her spiral notebook full of notes as she gathered her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs; listening to her parents argue back and forth.

As footsteps pounded down the upstairs hallway, Rory lifted her head to see her father barging down the staircase and she could practically see the smoke fuming from his ears. His jaw looked as if it were wired shut as his blue eyes were focused on reaching the bottom of the steps.

"Where are you going?" Beulah called down, following after him on the stairs.

"You want me the fuck out, I'll get the fuck out," Mike bit back, heading toward the front hall.

Rory watched his form disappear around the corner and then heard the sound of his car keys jingle and her heartbeat began to race.

Is this it? 15-year-old Rory feared. Is this the end of Mom and Dad?

"Mike..." Beulah was down the stairs and around the corner into the front hall as fast as Rory could blink an eye.

After a stale pause, there was a growl from her father. "Don't..." he trailed. When the muffled sound of Beulah's breath hitched, Mike added, "Don't touch me."

"We've forgiven each other for much worse," Beulah remarked. "How come we can't seem to get past this?"

Rory careened her head in order to hear better as her parents' voices got lower and more hushed. Her chin quivered slightly as she pulled her cell phone out of her purse on the coffee table next to her and flipped it open. Dialing Estelle's number, she grimaced.

After a few rings, Estelle picked up. "Hey, you."

She knew it was her little sister.

"Hey, Stella," Rory whispered.

"Why you whispering?"

"Listen..." the teenager stood up slowly and crept over toward the doorway while hiding to the side so her parents didn't see her as she held up her phone.

"--and if you think I'm letting you walk out that easily, you're sorely mistaken."

"Letting me walk out? Bee, you just shouted for me to get the fuck out."

"We say things when we're angry. I didn't--"

"Yes, you did," Mike cut her off. "You meant it." Then amended with, "This time you meant it."

Standing to the side of the doorway as well as over the phone, both Rory and Estelle, respectively, held their breaths to hear what would inevitably come next.

The click of the front door opening startled Rory somewhat.

"Where will you be?" Beulah inquired in monotone.

"I dunno."

"Aren't you gonna say goodbye to your daughter?"

"I'm not moving to the other side of the world. I'll be back. I just...I just don't know when."

"And what happens then?" Beulah questioned further. "To us, I mean? Are we over this time?"

There was another pause, and this time Rory poked her head out just enough to sneak a peek at what her parents were doing.

Mike and Beulah were staring each other in the eye and, despite the anger and contempt in the air, there was no question of whether or not the love was gone.

Aurora Pritchard knew in her heart her mother and her father would continue to love each other until they died, but the question was would they being loving each other as a divorced couple who shared custody of her and Vegas?

"I'd like to say no. But I don't know. I almost think this is the last draw," Mike admitted. "I'm not sure either of us can take the strains on our heart anymore; given our medical histories."

Rory watched as her mother's beautifully ageless face fell and her eyes diverted to the floor. And then as Mike stepped forward and placed a hand on Beulah's left cheek, Rory felt a pang of hope.

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, but then stepped back, turned and walked out the front door, shutting it quietly behind him.

"What's going on?" Rory heard Estelle's voice ask from over the phone.

As Beulah slowly sank to the floor, clearly a mess over what was going on in her marriage, her teenage daughter whispered into her phone, "You wanna come over?" Then she hung up, tossing the phone onto the couch. Stepping into the doorway, Rory moved forward her heart breaking for her heartbroken mother. "Mom? You gonna be okay?"

Beulah's head snapped upward, her eyes blurred with tears. "Oh--I forgot you were in the living room," she sniffled. "I was--your father and I--we..." A sob escaped her lips and she tipped her head down.

Sinking to the floor beside her mother, Rory pulled Beulah into a hug, just as she broke down.

"I don't know where we went wrong," the 43-year-old woman cried. "I love him so much, but all we do is fight. H-he's the only one who's ever made me really happy, but now all I feel is--"

"Shh," Rory interrupted. "It's gonna be fine, mom. Dad loves you too and he'll be back. You'll both work it out and we'll all live happily ever after like in the movies."

I hope... Rory thought to herself.

* * *

That was the day I realized we'd been successful in raising our family. All we fought for and sacrificed...it all came down to that moment. When the daughter is the one to comfort the mother and soothe her aching soul, I know we've done our jobs. I know that no matter what happens, we'll always have that. The love we made lives on in our children...even if it seems lost to us.

I think I reread that letter about ten times.

I didn't know my grandparents had reached that point in their lives where they had pretty much given up on each other. And I now have a new respect for my mother.

I've unfortunately had the experience of my parents divorcing, so I know now that my mother also lived through that bump in her road of life...

Shaking my head, I smiled sadly.

And moved on to the next picture and letter on my lap...