A Word In Progress

Klexos

Klexos is the art of dwelling on the past. It's when you stare at what was and make it an obsession, or so I hear.

Life wasn't good for me, even at fourteen. Life wasn't good for me at fifteen. Life isn't good for me now.

"Morgan, honey, come out of your room for dinner." Dad knocks on my door, a note of pleading on his voice. I was in my room when he got here.

"What's for dinner, dad?" I sigh, pulling my bushy red hair into a pony tail and fixing my glasses.

"Frozen pizza. Geez, Mor, it's Thursday." He reminds me. We have a different brand of frozen pizza every Thursday to see which one we like best, mostly because Dad has to work.

"Sorry dad." I grumble, pouring myself some soda and turning to face him. The condensation off the glass drips on to the wooden floor and seeps through my sleeve.

"You alright tonight, kid?" My dad kisses the top of my head as his girlfriend walks in, laughing that obnoxious witch cackle.

"Yeah dad." I lie, clearing my throat, "I'm going to go sit, that okay?"

"Of course." Dad nods, starting at his girlfriend distractedly. I roll my eyes and float to the coach, pizza slice and drink in hand.

"Hey, sis!" Henry, my little brother, greets happily from the seat I usually sit in.

"Shut up, Hen." I snap, "You got the seat, good for you."

"Even better than that, I got the remote too."

"You know we watch the same thing every Thursday. Now turn it on before I pummel the shit out of you."

"Morgan!" Dad chuckles, taking a seat in his office chair while he lets his girlfriend snuggle up in his chair. It takes all of me to not just slap her right there. She has no right to sit in his chair. Mom never did, why can she?

"She's right, Henry." The girlfriend smiles warmly, "You should put on a show all of us like."

"He can do whatever, I don't give a damn." I shrug, turning my face towards the TV and putting up a wall. She's not his mom. She can't tell him what to do.

"Morgan, it's your turn to do the dishes tonight."

"Henry only did have the dishes on Tuesday but whatever." I sink lower into the couch, "Can we just watch the dumb show already?"

"Don't get all surly with me because you have to do work." Dad's tone hardens and suddenly he decides to be fatherly.

"Okay. Fine. Let me finish my dinner first. Henry, start the episode before I rip your spleen out!"

---

I take a look at the dishes, finding that all of these are from Sunday's to Wednesday's dinners, none of which I had taken part in.

"Why can't he just take charge and do his own effing dishes?" I growl.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" Dad asks and I turn on my heel, completely pissed off. My shoulders slump as I see his hurt expression.

"daddy, I-"

"I work really hard and don't want to come home and work more." He sighs, looking defeated and hurt, "I'm sorry you have to do work for once in your life, but you haven't done anything all day!"

I went to school! I want to shout, I put up with hundreds of annoying assholes and did my best to make it to tonight!

"Morgan, you act like I don't work hard. We're right on money right now! I have to work a really long day to survive! And you come into my house and decide to be a bitch to your brother and my girlfriend! Not to mention me!" He stares at me until I lower my head to face the floor, "I raised you to be a sweet little girl and now your a selfish brat."

"I'm sorry." I hold back tears.

"Just go to bed. I've got this mess." Dad snaps and I rush into my room, slamming and locking the door. I slam my hand on the light switch and analyze the situation that had just happened.

I said my opinion, I got in trouble.

I spoke my mind, I feel guilty.

"Idiot idiot idiot." I whisper as I pound my fists against my forehead.

"Mor, sweet heart, are you alright?" Dad asks from outside the door. I stay silent, holding my breath until he leaves. My hands reach for the light and I click it off, burying myself under the covers. I reach out for my phone and turn on music. My ears fill with sad notes and breaking voices, the artists unable to finish their sentence without a break.

"I can't." I whisper, "I can't just tell you that no matter how much someone hitting me would hurt, those words burned like a flame."

My heart falls into pieces and I can't help but shake as I close my eyes and will myself to be strong. I can get through this. I just need to close my eyes and grit my teeth and pretend like it does exist.

I need to pretend like I was before I went to sixth grade. Before my life fell apart.

Right now my mom is laying in bed, eye mask on and dad is in the living room, hiding a beer and watching his late night news channels. Henry is fast asleep in his bedroom next to mine. I'm okay. Dad is walking to the bed room. He's going to sleep. Just a few more minutes and the hallway light will switch off and everything is going to be okay.

I'm ten, pretending I'm fast asleep as dad opens my door and tucks me in, whispering an I love you before he closes my door.

Shouting.

"Jack, why can't you just be a normal husband and come to bed with me!"

"Zoe, honey, please shut up! I'm in bed now, aren't I?"

"You don't love me!"

"Bull shit, Zoe!" The creaking out bed springs, "I support you. I watch the kids for you! Do you really think I don't love you? Who pays the bills?"

"You never send flowers, you walk out on Valentine's Day, you don't say I love you when you hang up the phone, and you never kiss me goodnight, Jack!"

"And I have to do those things to prove my love for you?" The hallway light is back on, "Fuck you, Zoe. I'll be back in the morning to take Morgan to school."

My eyes flick open and I'm crying harder than ever now.

Maybe being ten wasn't as good as I thought it was.