I'd Rather Shut My Eyes
Reticent
reticent, [ret-uh-suh nt]: adjective. Disposed to be silent or not to speak freely.
***
In the car, staring out the window as New York slid by on either side, Michaela sighed. Joe looked at her expectantly.
"Talking yet, kiddo?" he asked, a hint of a laugh in his voice.
Michaela didn't talk. She just turned further as they sped through the Holland Tunnel, leaving New York behind.
Don't laugh at me for not talking. I'm sticking to this.
Michaela hadn't hugged her mother when she'd left. She was too angry with her, too angry to backslide even a little into betraying some emotion other than anger.
***
Joe cut the engine after pulling up onto a driveway in Romano Street.
What a stupid name. Numbers are better. And it's too small here. There isn't enough height.
She stepped out of the car, shaking out her stiff legs. She looked around in distaste: a double story brick and sliding house greeted her, with her father, stepmother Lucy and stepsister standing in the doorway.
Lucy rushed down to greet her. "My gosh, you've grown so much, sweetie! Come on inside, we'll leave the boys to move your things." She winked at Michaela and proceeded to lead her into the house.
Michaela shrugged her off and walked back around the car, piling two boxes on top of one another and heaving them up. Struggling a little under the weight she stood quietly, anger simmering.
Joe whispered quietly to Lucy and Michaela's father, obviously explaining the situation.
"Well, don't you worry about that. I'll have her chattering about in no time!" Lucy's voice echoed over.
Fat chance.
"You get to share my room" a little voice stated clearly, somewhere around her elbow. Michaela looked down.
A small girl, around 6 years old, looked stoutly up at her. "Can I brush your hair?" she asked in curiosity.
Oh no.
***
In the car, staring out the window as New York slid by on either side, Michaela sighed. Joe looked at her expectantly.
"Talking yet, kiddo?" he asked, a hint of a laugh in his voice.
Michaela didn't talk. She just turned further as they sped through the Holland Tunnel, leaving New York behind.
Don't laugh at me for not talking. I'm sticking to this.
Michaela hadn't hugged her mother when she'd left. She was too angry with her, too angry to backslide even a little into betraying some emotion other than anger.
***
Joe cut the engine after pulling up onto a driveway in Romano Street.
What a stupid name. Numbers are better. And it's too small here. There isn't enough height.
She stepped out of the car, shaking out her stiff legs. She looked around in distaste: a double story brick and sliding house greeted her, with her father, stepmother Lucy and stepsister standing in the doorway.
Lucy rushed down to greet her. "My gosh, you've grown so much, sweetie! Come on inside, we'll leave the boys to move your things." She winked at Michaela and proceeded to lead her into the house.
Michaela shrugged her off and walked back around the car, piling two boxes on top of one another and heaving them up. Struggling a little under the weight she stood quietly, anger simmering.
Joe whispered quietly to Lucy and Michaela's father, obviously explaining the situation.
"Well, don't you worry about that. I'll have her chattering about in no time!" Lucy's voice echoed over.
Fat chance.
"You get to share my room" a little voice stated clearly, somewhere around her elbow. Michaela looked down.
A small girl, around 6 years old, looked stoutly up at her. "Can I brush your hair?" she asked in curiosity.
Oh no.