The Lights In the Sky

Chapter 25

Mom and I stood there together for a long time, neither of us moving. I heard Susan's car pull out of the driveway. The silence was fine. Then she tried to speak.

All she said was, "You know I didn't mean—" then she trailed off and ran to the counter. My heart didn't even sink this time. I was waiting for it. Waiting for the bottle to come out. For the sound of ice in the bottom of a glass and the pour of sap-colored liquid. Instead, my ears were greeted to the sound of jangling metal. Mom grabbed her keys and was out the front door. Gone in an instant. Trailing Susan, maybe. Killing her. I didn't know. I didn't care. She was gone and I wanted her gone. I didn't want to see her again. I wasn't too caught up in the fact that she was the one who gave me my life.

Not a happy life, though. A life that was not mine. A life not meant for me.

Tabitha rode the bus home. We watched TV and she asked me where Mom was and I lied. I told her she was with Grandma Maisie. Tabitha didn't ask questions. She never asked questions because she trusted me. I asked her if she wanted to play Hide and Seek. She did.

We used to play Hide and Seek all the time when we were younger. I would hide different places in the house, but she would always hide between the fridge and the counter. It never failed. Sometimes I was mean and found her right away. Other times I would walk around the house, pretending I didn't know where she was. I'd call out her name as I walked up the stairs or down the halls. I'd peek under the couch cushions or in the oven. I'd listen to her giggle as I found more and more preposterous places to look. And when I found her, instead of pointing, I'd put out my hand. And she would take it. I think that was her favorite part. It was my favorite part, too.

It wasn't any different that time. It was all so beautifully predictable. So beautifully pointless. I stomped around for a while, looking through the coat closet and the bathroom. When I neared her spot, she began to giggle under her breath. I stomped louder, looking in the cereal cabinet and the pantry. When I peeked in the washing machine, she couldn't contain her laughter. The sound of her hands slapping the side of the fridge was drowned out by my heavy feet. I let out a growl as I jumped into her line of sight. She smiled and held out her hand. I took it. Together we walked into the living room and sat together on the couch. I nodded off that way until the kitchen door opened and Dad walked in. Tabitha was in her room by that time.

Dad started drinking right away when he got home. Just beer. He was agitated. When Tabitha went to take her bath, I asked him what was wrong. He saw Mom's car, he said. Parked at the bar. Parked where it hadn't been parked in so long. If she started going back there, he would start to worry. If he started to worry, he would drink more. If he was drinking more, she would come home and find him drunk. And she would be drunk. And he would be waiting for her. And the fights would get so much worse.

I waited as long as I could, really. I tried. I didn't want to do anything. But he just sat there in the kitchen with the radio on low, drinking can after can. Tabitha played up in her room, talking and giggling to herself. The leopards on TV weren't enough to keep me distracted. I got to my feet and grinded my teeth together. I grabbed his keys. He grabbed the side of my hoodie to try and stop me. His fingers couldn't get purchase and he almost toppled over in his chair.

The truck was cold. It took forever to warm up. I drove with nothing but static to keep me company. There are two ways to get into town. At the end of my road, you can turn left or go straight at the first four-way stop. Both ways take you about the same amount of time. I flicked on the turning signal, but at the last minute chose the route that went by Frank's house. I went straight through the intersection with my signal still blinking. I swerved into his driveway almost on instinct. Flew up the gravel driveway and almost drove straight through his garage door. I started pounding on the horn.