Teen Drama

9

It's past midnight, long past it, and I'm standing in the kitchen drinking some water to take an aspirin before I finish up on some of my notes from school all week. I have my one full day I do monthly at the shelter tomorrow as it's Saturday, so I want all my homework to be up to date because I'll be too tired later. Sunday, I have plans with Elisa for a much-needed break.

I'm hiding away from my parents in their room after hearing them fight again. I heard the name Dane so many times I wanted to rip my ears off and came down here to escape it instead. It sounded bad this time.

My mum was yelling like a banshee, which she rarely does, and Bryan was reacting to it, which he never does. He's such a solid, push-over guy that he normally lets my mom vent and takes it, but I could hear him shouting back.

Over the past few months, it's become a regular occurrence. It's like it builds up, my mom finds fault in everything that Dane does, and Bryan's lack of controlling him gets attacked. She curses and yells and storms around, throwing ultimatums. I heard London about six times, too, and know my mom is pushing to send Dane back to his own mother, which despite how we are, I don't want to happen.

I can't even explain why.

Dane's still not home. After taking off from school after our last class, there has been neither sign nor word from him, and his cell is off. I know because I have tried to call and text him like fifty times since ten when his curfew ran out. Nothing but his voicemail, and I don't have Tyler's number either.

This isn't the first time.

"Why are you still up?" My mum's strained voice pulls me out of my head and draws my attention to her as she walks in wearing a pink silk robe. Her face is clear of makeup, and her hair is brushed out and silky despite sounding like she was at war twenty minutes ago. I guess she is finally done.

Even in the dim light, I can see she has dark circles of fatigue, and her mouth is pinched and tight as though she's internally brewing a storm. Her entire aura is saying, 'don't talk to me,' so I know it's best to stay quiet like I never heard a thing and don't ask. My mom never confides in me anyway.

"Headache. I came for some aspirin.... I'm going up in a second." I smile emptily when she walks over and gives me a perfunctory peck on the cheek. A normal mom thing for her to do whenever she encounters me in the house before bed. Pretty much the only form of physical affection she has ever dished out in the entirety of my life. My mom is a talker who believes in conversation over cuddles. She's not an overly affectionate or demonstrative person with anyone.

"Don't stay up too late. I know what you're like for burning the candle at both ends. Get a good rest. You have work tomorrow." She heads for the door to the cellar, dismissing me, and I frown as I watch her disappear inside, knowing the only thing we keep down there is wine.

"I know, I'm going up," I call after her but get no response.

My mom isn't normally the type to need a drink at almost 1 am, but I guess this fight had to be worse than the last few. I can't stand and watch it because I will get mad and upset and not sleep tonight. Churning up a million insecure feelings and sickly emotions because I need my second family to stay together for my own sanity.

I pick up my glass and leave to pad into the hall and upstairs, stopping for a second on the mini landing before the stair curve and looking out into our drive. Dane's spot for his motorbike sits empty between my jeep and my mom's Porsche, and I am flooded with a heaviness that pushes my headache to throb harder.

I sigh and let the curtain fall into place before moving upstairs and back to my room, pausing by my mom's bedroom door to see if Bryan is still up and getting nothing but silence. If mom is downstairs drowning her woes in wine, she will probably sleep in her study again... something she did a few days ago. I know her too well.