Instant Impacts

3

CHAPTER THREE

My parents have always been Catholics.

They've gone to mass every Sunday of their lives and have said grace before eating dinner every night.

After Claudia's passing they threw themselves into the arms of Jesus and all the saints, started reading passages of the gospel on a daily basis and have invited the local priest over for tea fortnightly.

Along with being strong believers of the catholic faith, they have also thrown large amounts of effort to keep me safe and protected from the damage that can't be avoided in life.

My arm naturally grabs the wooden table for support as a corn kernel gets caught in my throat, making me cough.

"The corn got stuck in your throat, huh?" My father asks patting my back and guides the half empty glass to my mouth.

I raise my other free arm and take hold of the glass, "I'm fine, dad." I stretch my lips into a grimace and glance over to my mum who is watching the whole interaction, amused.

I am a replication of my mother, inside and out, unless you count the fact that I also have some of my father's DNA engraved within every cell in my body. We have the same sarcastic humour, the same tendency to analyse every single word someone says to us. We also have the same smile.

"How was your day?" My mum asks me, biting into her corn.

I have always hated talking at the dinner table, even as a kid I would sit in silence and eat my food like some kind of a mute. When my sister was around she would do all the talking, it was always her thing to make conversation at the dinner table.

"Andrea, how about you?" Claudia spun her head from my dad to look over at me.

"What?" I was confused and had no idea what she was talking about. I glanced at both my parents who were smiling and nodding their heads for me to answer whatever Claudia asked with encouragement.

"Isn't chivalry dead?" The question caught my off guard, but my answer came to me straight away.

"Yeah, why?" I replied munching on some chicken.

"Because dad seems to think that it's still alive." She stated and gave dad a playful glare.

"I'm telling you, it's out there but you just need to look for it." Dad insisted.

"Really?" I asked surprised, "dad have you seen the guys I go to school with?" I honestly believed that knights in shining armour were merely a fantasy to romantic girls who had unrealistic views on the attitude of men.

But what did I know? All the guys I went to school with were fourteen year old boys who had still been picking their noses in public.

"Exactly honey, chivalry was dead the year leather jackets were invented." My mother said calmly while she wrapped an arm around my fathers defeated shoulders.

"In my opinion, it's out there." My dad smiles brightly even though he has three women against him. If you look at my father’s personality and compare it with Claudia’s there would not be many differences.

I remember thinking about that conversation, and of how she would carry conversations like that as though they were as light as a conversation on the weather. That was another mystery about my sister.

Shaking the memory out of my head I reply, "I'm fine."

"Answer honestly." My mum insists with a suspicious look on her face. Oh, god. I'm not in the mood for an interrogation. I don't want my parents ripping me layer by layer until they see how I'll never be the same. Until they see the fragile bones and weak muscles that were a result of the car accident.

"I'm fine mum, really." I shrug.

"Mr Norris called and said that you weren't paying attention in class." My dad says accusingly with a frown upon his face.

"Yeah, so?" I mumble, "I was bored."

"Honey, God only knows how much pain you've endured for the past eighteen months but you need to learn how to separate that pain from everyday living." My mum says soothingly, stretching out her arm from her lap and laying it over my elbow that's resting on the table.

Did she really just say that? "What?" I stare, astounded that the only two people who I used to think kind of understood me realising that they don't any more. "Why would you say that?"

I went through four months of physiotherapy, two months of sympathetic stares and awkward silences, twenty hours of counselling and two weeks of catching up with year ten. You would think that with all of those recovering and strengthening services used that I’d be restored, especially physically.

Except I'm not, you would think that my parents would understand. Except they don't.

"We aren't attacking you, we're just worried about you." Dad grips my shoulder as a reassuring gesture. I honestly don't feel reassured.

"Mum, dad you have nothing to worry about, I was just bored and class was almost over. No one pays attention in the last subject on a Friday." I exclaim to make them feel at ease.

"Okay." My parents reply, unconvinced with my explanation of the situation.

I can just imagine my sister whispering in my ear with a smirk on her face, "Adults would rather get fed a lie by a teenager than the truth from one. That's the story of all adolescents."