The hush whispers pierce the silence like bullet shots. They are speaking in rushed voices, a conglomerate of indistinguishable syllables and tones. In my bedroom, despite the quietness, I can hear the muffled discussion between my mom and dad. The morning light has just alerted its presence as the glow is cast across the walls. It's Sunday and everybody usually sleeps in today. By the urgency of the situation, however, I can tell that what is going on is far from good. The air is filled with anxiety and panic, and I attempt to listen in on their conversation through the wall.
"What are we going to do?" A worrying sentence from my mom. It's never good when Mom doesn't know what to do.
"How are we going to tell the kids?" An alarming sentence from my dad. It's never good when Dad is afraid to tell me something.
I hear a door squeak open. My older brother must have just woken up. I hear his footsteps slowly approaching our parents' room. Another door swings open, more footsteps. I pay close attention, knowing that my parents would probably tell him sooner than me about the situation. By the feelings of confidentiality, this has to be important, whether they inform me or not.
"What's going on?"
I hold my breath. I know they're going to tell him. Contrasting possibilities of dialogue scatter in my mind. I press my head harder against the wall, listening in on their next statement. Different options formulate in my brain. Divorce? Death? Disease? They instantly get shot down with quick evidence and reasoning.
"I got laid off today."
I pull away from the wall, stopping for a moment to reevaluate what is actually going on. I didn't expect the answer to be so direct and blunt, a projectile straight to the chest. I rework the simple words again and again in my head. I've heard on the news about unemployment rates rising due to the pandemic, but I never thought it would happen to us. This surely can't be happening, right? I don't know anything about finance. The words "insurance" and "benefit claims" escape my thoughts. I never had to worry about it, so what was the point of learning it?
The creak of the bed announces the end of the discussion. Everybody goes quiet, so I know the quick meeting is over. I pretend to be asleep, just in case they check on me. I know they won't tell me about this soon, but I already know. No amount of suppression could make me forget what just happened.
-
Mom carries a pile of paperwork along with her work laptop down the stairs. I am brushing my teeth as she hurries to the garage. I act inattentive, put on a smile so they don't worry about me. I don't feel hungry, despite the smell of breakfast drifting from downstairs. I hear the sound of the garage door grating open. The sound of a vehicle rolling off the driveway and into the streets follows after.
When Mom gets back, her computer and papers are replaced with a brown box. Stacks of files and cards are contained inside the cardboard prison, along with pillows and a lamp. Funny enough, she also brings in a yoga ball, three picture frames, two cups, and her tray of business credentials as well. I am still in disbelief of the situation- my mom was always hard-working, willing to improve, and so enthusiastic for work- why her? She hastily walks back to the trunk to retrieve another crate. I turn a blind eye, ignoring how obvious the circumstances are.
They don't need to know I'm scared.
-
Today is a digital-learning day. I hurry down to my laptop to start my work. The day is filled with agony as I ponder what is going to happen. Mom was the only person working, and without her job, we would not be receiving income. She was older than 50, which gave her a disadvantage against younger appliers. If she didn't get a job, we would lose our house, file for bankruptcy, and wouldn't be able to afford anything. It is hard to concentrate as all the "what-ifs" crowd vacant space in my judgment. I have never been happy about my life, but now my world seems to deteriorate in a way I can't imagine.
