Cedar Valley High Series #1
Zaydence Denholm is in trouble. She and her best friend are crushing on the same guy. On her part, she views this as the ultimate betrayal. This crush alongside overbearing and emotionally detached parents, and a complica...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Spotless floors.
Shiny counters.
Silence except for the lull of fluorescent lighting.
Home was supposed to be one's safe space. A haven from the outside world.
What was the purpose of a welcome mat if it did everything but? Welcome mats created an inkling of kindness but it was up to the members of the house to fully develop it.
Mom and Dad's silent streak reached day 5. I expected it from Dad but I didn't foresee Mom indulging in his pettiness. Their usual routine: Mom said something insensitive, Dad was upset, Mom caved in. Rinse and repeat.
Zeriah slept over Dawn's house most nights to prepare for club days—an event held for clubs to attract new members. The past few weeks in between Dad's work at the botanical garden, Mom's health conferences, and school, the four of us hardly saw each other.
However, today was Saturday. Escape from the endless weekend was impossible. While lost in thought, I poured hot sauce on my omelet.
Snap out of it.
"Slide it over my way, I'll eat it." Dad consoled me.
I liked spicy food, but the way I saw it, those eggs were swimming in hot sauce. I gave him my plate.
"Thanks Dad,"
He pushed his boiled eggs in my direction. He preferred the firm texture of boiled eggs over the softness of omelets but he would bear with it for me.
Mom scoffed under her breath. Except it wasn't as quiet as she intended. Zeriah's absence—the absence of her chatter—amplified every little noise and made them ten times louder. Mom fidgeted with her utensils. The fact that Dad was treating her the way she treated him was frustrating for her.
The clank of spoons hitting plates and bowls filled the air. Liquid sloshing down throats covered with barbed wire unable to say what they truly felt. Suffocating was the word that best described it. It was ironic that in a 3,000 square foot home, one could feel as if one was stuffed into a trunk running out of air.
These were supposed to be my role models. These were the people who were teaching me how to be a functioning human in this society.
TALK!
OH MY FUCKING GOD!
JUST TALK TO EACH OTHER!
I sipped my lemon water and cleared my throat. "Please, talk to each other." I cried out. "This has gone too far."
Mom broke the ice, "Winter, Zaydence is right. We do need to talk." She stood and he followed her into the sun room—it connected the house to the backyard.
An urge to get closer and eavesdrop came over me. I crouched down and snuck into the pantry. Beans, nuts, potatoes, and surrounded me. I moved into the corner and pressed my ear against the cool wall.
"Winter you lied to me!" Mom accused him.
"I informed you about the freezer," Dad defended.
"It was supposed to be for your seed collection. N-not ice cream!"
"Once upon a time, Evonne, you ate ice cream."
"That was before,"
"Before Warren passed, I know."
Mom's Dad—Grandpa Warren—died from heart complications caused by his type 2 diabetes. Mom wanted to become a doctor. She wanted to cure diabetes. She realized what she was being taught was to prescribe medicine. She wasn't helping people, she was lining the pockets of Big Pharma. Her focus changed to fitness and plant based diets. There she excelled and made real change.
A weighty silence settled outside, lingering for several long moments. I breathed in stale air. Dust bunnies coated the edge of the shelves. When was the last time the pantry was cleaned?
I waited.
They used hushed tones leaving me unable to follow the conversation any longer. Stepping out of the pantry, I shook my head. Whether or not they resolved their issue, the most important part was they were talking again.
I slowly made my way into the sun room. Succulents lined the boundary of the room. Compared to the stuffiness of the pantry, the atmosphere was chilly.
Mom covered her face a split second later. She faced the backyard. She didn't want me to see her crying. Dad hadn't noticed me. I rushed over to them, engulfing their bodies into my slender arms.
We were hurting. We were cracking, and desperately waiting to be glued back together.
"Zayde," she brought me into her tear stained nightgown, "Your father and I were discussing my 'dictatorship' as he put it. I haven't been the easiest person to coexist with. I see that now."
And for the first time in my entire life, my mom apologized to me.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
