Flash

Sometimes I think mom likes to cry.
I mean, she does it all the time.
Occasionally, she doesn't even look sad
and then the tears begin to roll and she is full on sobbing.
Hiccups, heavy breathing...
Everything.
That's usually when dad says he needs to leave.
It must be overwhelming being married to a 'chronic cryer.'
But I can't help but wonder why he can't manage to be just a little braver.
It's hard on me, too.
When dad leaves I'm always left to pick up the pieces
and half the time I'm just too damned tired.
So I go to my room and listen until the crying stops and the only thing I can think to do is give her a glass of tap water and an aspirin for the headache.
So, when dad doesn't show up by eleven I want to tell her that he called.
I want to let her know that I knew about Flemings the whole time and how I thought he had planned to take her out for a birthday dinner.
But now, I wasn't so sure.
If he had planned for dinner he would have told me to make sure she didn't cook
and to pick up the present he had 'cleverly' hidden in the hallway closet.
So, I don't say anything.
Instead, I go downstairs when the crying dies down and grab her an aspirin and a glass of tap water.
Then, when she falls asleep I crawl out the window and start towards Flemings.