Dad’s house was mute.
Another box was packed with different hard cover dictionary sets: the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary, and a two volume Oxford English Dictionary. Each day during homeschooling, Mom would have me flip through the books and find ten new words that I didn’t know and then we would use them in songs that we wrote together. The rest of my boxes included my Harry Potter collection, The Hunger Games, and The Chronicles of Narnia, every Stephen King novel, along with dozens and dozens of other books.
I lifted the Merriam-Webster dictionary and began flipping through the pages.
want | verb | \?wo?nt also ?w?nt & ?w?nt\
to desire or wish for (something)
to need (something)
to be without (something needed)
I wanted Dad to want me a little. I wanted Mom to stop wanting me so much. I wanted to be wanted, but not wanted a lot.
* * *
The kitchen freezer held a variety of TV dinners. The fridge was stocked from top to bottom with sandwich meats, fruits, leftover pizza, Dad’s beer, and root beer.
He remembered my favorite soda.
For dinner I ate nasty mashed potatoes and meatloaf, downing it all with two root beers. Dad had the same thing, but he ate it in a different room. I stayed out of his hair for the rest of the night, hanging out in the woods during the rainstorm. High in the twisted branches was the tree house he and I built when I was nine. In my mind it used to be so much bigger, but I guessed that was the thing about memories—they weren’t always exactly true.
Carved into the tree trunk were our initials above the words ‘men cave’.
My fingers rolled over each word.
I didn’t remember carving the letters.
I wondered what else I forgot about this place.
I climbed the wet rungs on the tree, which were still pretty sturdy, and I sat inside of the now tiny house, which was covered with spider webs, dead June bugs, and ancient beer cans. In the far corner was an old boom box that Dad and I used to always play our favorite CDs while goofing off and wasting time.
Without thought, I hit the power button on the boom box, but it was dead like the June bugs.
I sat in front of the window with my arms crossed, watching the rain fall.
The rain always reminded me of Mom.
Maybe I was starting to miss her a little.
2 Aria, Sixteen Years Old
I should’ve been sleeping.
The rain hammered against the rooftop of the house at unforgiving speeds, leaving me with my eyes opened wide. I turned to the alarm clock sitting on my nightstand. The red laser lights were bright and reminded me over and over again why I shouldn’t have been awake.
2:22 A.M.
I slid my body up, my back landing against the headboard. Tossing my peach and mulberry-colored comforter from my sweaty body, I took a breath. My thumb sat between my teeth as I proceeded to chip away at my short nail.
I hated the calmness of the household. I hated how everyone else in my family was able to sleep through the sounds of the current storm passing through Mayfair Heights. I hated how they were probably dreaming of something magnificent and happy while I sat up in bed overthinking everything.
I stood from my mattress and shut my bedroom door, which was covered in my random artwork and pictures of me and my family. The cutout letters ‘A-R-I-A’ that curved over my doorframe showcased my coolness factor.
Or lack thereof.
My feet slipped into a pair of old, mint-colored flip-flops. I tossed my fringed purse strap across my body, and it wasn’t long before I climbed out of my first floor window. I hadn’t had enough brains to think of putting on a jacket to cover my tank top and pajama shorts. The August air was cool as it brushed against my skin, but the rain was unapologetic. It washed over me, soaking me from head to toe before I reached the street corner.
Putting on my thinking cap, I took a shortcut through Mr. Myers’ woods at the end of the block. It seemed like a grand idea, until I started slipping through the muddy grass, instantly transforming my flip-flops from mint to hickory brown.
The heavy storm was torturing me, almost as much as my mind had been attacking my heart. I knew it was stupid to head out so late at night, but when your heart is under attack, only a few people can put a shield of protection around said heart.