On Hold

Lie to Me | Fourteen

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Lie to Me | Fourteen

You know those mornings were you wake up and can feel the weight of your thoughts pushing down any type of emotion. Where you just want to curl back up in your big comforter and think of nothing at all. Those days that could be sunny and bright but you just don’t notice the light atmosphere around you. That was what I felt Thursday morning. I felt ugly and puffy faced from the slight tears that I had left slip out last night and during sleep. My stomach was in a perpetual, reminding torrent from the painful lies of yesterday. That saying ‘yesterday was yesterday and today is a new day’ was obviously not about me and could never refer to my life. I couldn’t shuck what was heard. I couldn’t rid myself of the pain. Yesterday had never been just a yesterday.

     Instead, I tossed back the blackest to the bitter cold of my house and sat in bed, just remembering what had happened and all the pain that came along with it. The look from both Ian and Baja as they watched the confrontation with my father the previous afternoon. Running a hand back through my red main, I stood up with a sigh and wobbled slightly on unsteady legs. I went to the bathroom first and quickly, robotically went through the routine. When I came out, I slipped on track pants and a running jacket, throwing my hair up on top of my head before I went down the stairs. And all through the house, not a creature was stirring; not even a mouse. Grabbing my bag at the credenza, I shucked it over my shoulder and left without a backwards glance.

     I just want to be alone, I thought as I pulled my headphones from inside of my jacket pocket. I popped them in, scrolled to a loud and invasive tune and walked to school alone and without a single thought of anything else.

     I was in trouble. So much trouble. I waited up almost half the night—another type of punishment. My father didn’t even come home until two in the morning, drunk and stumbling. His face was blotched with mirth and he had a faraway look in his eyes. But, when the man saw me, he seemed to sober up almost instantly. “I’m angry with you,” he pointed out. “For… for… for having that damn cat in your room.” my father undid his tie with a few quick pulls. “You know… KNOW! That your mother is allergic to cats.” I cringed at the lie. “And then I come home… and that feline is under my roof.” Kicking off his shoes, he kicked the shiny black, expensive things into the wall, one at a time. I stepped back unconsciously.

      He looked at me with his hands on his hips and we both just stood frozen to our spot. I was trapped in the gray eyes that were so much like the ones in the mirror. Except these held an anger that I had never seen in my own. mine always held the blue tinge of pain. I wish I was stronger sometimes. I just didn’t want to hold eyes like my fathers. His were always analyzing and picking out every detail that was wrong. “I don’t know what to do. Your mother is coming back tomorrow.” He finally told me. I looked down, relieved to have pulled myself away. His eyes were the kind that was able to throw guilt onto a person. The eyes of a lawyer—able to make anyone crack. “I haven’t called your mother yet, which you should be grateful for.” He told me like a god sent. “But, she will be back tomorrow. So, that means that you must clean this house, top to bottom.” Just what I wanted.

     Just what I freak’n wanted.

     There were three reasons why my father disliked cats. As a kid, my father had a cat with his younger sister. But, my uncle was kind of a crazy man and had killed the cat. I know this not because my father opened up but instead through covering up the truth. I asked him once when I was fifteen if he had had a pet when he was younger. It was one of those times where I was trying to figure out how many lies my parents had told me. I was almost at my breaking point. I wonder if you can guess what he said. No. I specified cats and he screamed at me to stop asking the same stupid question, that the answer would still be a no.