So the Season's Changed Your Face
Act II, Scene VI
“Hey, Mike,” I said, catching up to him in the hallway, tugging a Barrington High sweater over my head. “I’m sorry about this morning. I just…I had to do my laundry at one in the morning and I didn’t have a proper dinner and…I’m really tired, Mike. I’m sorry.”
He gave me this look – this look that plainly read that he wanted to stay mad at me. But he broke and gave me a genuine smile. “It’s okay. It’s cool.”
“No, it’s really not,” I objected, walking into the gym with him. “I mean, regardless of what’s going on, I have no right to take it out on you. It’s not like it’s your fault.”
“Vivi, really, it’s okay,” Mike assured me, squeezing my shoulder. “I understand.”
I doubt Mike truly understands, but I appreciated the sympathy all the same.
And how could he understand? Mike has this perfect little family – shit, his mom isn’t a mental case, his dad actually comes home after work, Lucas plays softball for crying out loud – they’re perfect. I don’t think Mike has ever gone hungry because his parents were too emotionally absent to buy groceries, nor do I think he has ever cleaned up broken dishes after an altercation.
I don’t think Mike has ever been kept awake at night because his parents were shouting at each other.
I do envy Mike – at least, I envy the family he has. He really doesn’t see how good he has it. I would do almost anything to have parents like his – though, I will never tell him this.
Instead, I gave him an apologetic little smile and squeezed his arm. “Thanks, Mike.”
I was surprised to find my parents sitting at the kitchen table when I came home. They weren’t even throwing things at each other. I have to admit that I was quite proud of them (though the mere thought of being proud of them for acting like adults deeply saddened me).
My mom had brushed her hair and put on some proper attire. My dad had gone a few days without shaving, but was clean and tidy, though I noticed he was wearing the same clothing he was wearing the night he bolted.
“What’s up?” I asked, though I wasn’t all too sure I wanted to know why they looked so grave.
When I grew closer to my parents, I noticed my mom’s eyes were red and puffy and that my dad smelled strongly of cheap whiskey. I sat down at the table, dropping my bag to the floor.
“About last Friday, Vivi,” my dad started, reaching across the table to grasp my hand. “We’re really sorry you had to hear that.”
“It’s okay,” I said, a lump forming in my throat. Stop that, you big baby, I scolded myself, trying to swallow my sadness. “I mean, everyone fights occasionally-”
My dad shook his head miserably. “No, Vivi. Friday night was…really bad. The worst it has ever gotten between your mom and I.”
“It was an unsafe environment for you, Vivi,” my mom chimed in. She was completely coherent, which I was grateful for, and looked me directly in the eyes. “No child should ever have to experience that.”
I felt as if I was five again and my mom was trying to explain why Uncle Bob was being taken away by the police. I wish they would get on with it. I’m sixteen. I don’t need to be told what I should and should not see.
“So, you’re sorry, I get that,” I blurted rudely. “Is there anything else? I have some home-”
“Vivi,” my dad interrupted, taking a deep breath, “You’re mom and I are, well, this isn’t exactly working-”
“And we love you very much, Vivi,” my mom started, smiling condescendingly. “It’s just that-”
“You guys are filing for divorce, aren’t you?” I asked loudly, standing up. “Twenty years of marriage and it’s just not working anymore? Jesus Christ! I mean, can’t you guys just get your shit together and make it work?”
“Vivi, your mom and I have been trying to make it work for years now,” my dad started, raising his voice slightly, “But it’s not always easy.”
“Life isn’t easy, dad,” I stated loudly, a big, fat, sarcastic smile on my face. Tears were blurring my vision. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but sometimes, you have to work for the things that are important!”
“Vivi, sweetie,” my mom said, “Believe me when I say that we have been trying to make it work. We’ve stayed together for you this whole time. But honey, we can’t do this anymore.”
I looked at the both of them, tears rolling down my face. I was unable to speak.
“You know what happened on Friday,” my dad cut in, “And that can’t happen again. But it will if we continue to force ourselves to stay together. The fights will just get worse and worse-”
“Whatever,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “Whatever.”
I stormed off to my room, slamming my door shut behind me. Without a single thought, I jammed my chair under my doorknob so they couldn’t barge in on me.
He gave me this look – this look that plainly read that he wanted to stay mad at me. But he broke and gave me a genuine smile. “It’s okay. It’s cool.”
“No, it’s really not,” I objected, walking into the gym with him. “I mean, regardless of what’s going on, I have no right to take it out on you. It’s not like it’s your fault.”
“Vivi, really, it’s okay,” Mike assured me, squeezing my shoulder. “I understand.”
I doubt Mike truly understands, but I appreciated the sympathy all the same.
And how could he understand? Mike has this perfect little family – shit, his mom isn’t a mental case, his dad actually comes home after work, Lucas plays softball for crying out loud – they’re perfect. I don’t think Mike has ever gone hungry because his parents were too emotionally absent to buy groceries, nor do I think he has ever cleaned up broken dishes after an altercation.
I don’t think Mike has ever been kept awake at night because his parents were shouting at each other.
I do envy Mike – at least, I envy the family he has. He really doesn’t see how good he has it. I would do almost anything to have parents like his – though, I will never tell him this.
Instead, I gave him an apologetic little smile and squeezed his arm. “Thanks, Mike.”
--------------------
I was surprised to find my parents sitting at the kitchen table when I came home. They weren’t even throwing things at each other. I have to admit that I was quite proud of them (though the mere thought of being proud of them for acting like adults deeply saddened me).
My mom had brushed her hair and put on some proper attire. My dad had gone a few days without shaving, but was clean and tidy, though I noticed he was wearing the same clothing he was wearing the night he bolted.
“What’s up?” I asked, though I wasn’t all too sure I wanted to know why they looked so grave.
When I grew closer to my parents, I noticed my mom’s eyes were red and puffy and that my dad smelled strongly of cheap whiskey. I sat down at the table, dropping my bag to the floor.
“About last Friday, Vivi,” my dad started, reaching across the table to grasp my hand. “We’re really sorry you had to hear that.”
“It’s okay,” I said, a lump forming in my throat. Stop that, you big baby, I scolded myself, trying to swallow my sadness. “I mean, everyone fights occasionally-”
My dad shook his head miserably. “No, Vivi. Friday night was…really bad. The worst it has ever gotten between your mom and I.”
“It was an unsafe environment for you, Vivi,” my mom chimed in. She was completely coherent, which I was grateful for, and looked me directly in the eyes. “No child should ever have to experience that.”
I felt as if I was five again and my mom was trying to explain why Uncle Bob was being taken away by the police. I wish they would get on with it. I’m sixteen. I don’t need to be told what I should and should not see.
“So, you’re sorry, I get that,” I blurted rudely. “Is there anything else? I have some home-”
“Vivi,” my dad interrupted, taking a deep breath, “You’re mom and I are, well, this isn’t exactly working-”
“And we love you very much, Vivi,” my mom started, smiling condescendingly. “It’s just that-”
“You guys are filing for divorce, aren’t you?” I asked loudly, standing up. “Twenty years of marriage and it’s just not working anymore? Jesus Christ! I mean, can’t you guys just get your shit together and make it work?”
“Vivi, your mom and I have been trying to make it work for years now,” my dad started, raising his voice slightly, “But it’s not always easy.”
“Life isn’t easy, dad,” I stated loudly, a big, fat, sarcastic smile on my face. Tears were blurring my vision. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but sometimes, you have to work for the things that are important!”
“Vivi, sweetie,” my mom said, “Believe me when I say that we have been trying to make it work. We’ve stayed together for you this whole time. But honey, we can’t do this anymore.”
I looked at the both of them, tears rolling down my face. I was unable to speak.
“You know what happened on Friday,” my dad cut in, “And that can’t happen again. But it will if we continue to force ourselves to stay together. The fights will just get worse and worse-”
“Whatever,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “Whatever.”
I stormed off to my room, slamming my door shut behind me. Without a single thought, I jammed my chair under my doorknob so they couldn’t barge in on me.