Whispers

Chapter Six

6

Sleeping had become something of a chore over the last couple of weeks. It seemed as though no matter what I did I could just never sleep through the night. I was always waking up, always restless, always waiting. So, I was wide awake that night when Dad came home. Even if I hadn't heard him coming in, the sound of hushed arguing filtering in through the thin walls of our tiny apartment only moments later was a dead give away that Dad was back. This had to be the third time he came home sloshed in the early AM and by the sound of it, Mom was pissed.

Shifting around beneath my covers I buried my head in my pillow, trying to muffle out the familiar noise. At this rate, I'd never get to sleep...

My inner griping was instantly silenced as soon as I heard his heavy footsteps thumping down the short hallway, toward my room. It had to be around four in the morning. Usually, he just slunk off to their bedroom after they were done arguing. So why was he...?

The door to my bedroom swung open quietly and I held still beneath the thick blankets, feigning sleep. What is he doing? What does he want?

Mom was quick to chase after him. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded in a harsh whisper before he could take a step in.

"I'm telling her the truth," he hissed back, a soft slur in his voice. "She needs to know."

"Not about that person she doesn't. Not now. Not yet."

"What do you mean not yet? She's going to find out eventually."

"Eventually, maybe. But not now."

"She's going to have questions when I leave," he reasoned. "And God only knows what you'll end up telling her about me."

"Well maybe you should have thought of that before," she snapped.

My father's temper was back and I could only assume he was glaring at his wife. "Either you tell her or I do," he growled back. "There's no in between."

The longer the silence hung in the room the heavier the tension grew. What were they talking about? What did he mean leave? Where was he going? My head raced with questions but I couldn't move my lips to speak and was too scared to sit up and face them. All I could do was lay there in my bed as my head buzzed and my heart hammered.

With a small sound of annoyance, Dad took a step forward, the old floorboards creaking beneath his weight.

"Fine!" she finally relented. "I'll tell her. Just not now."

"Then when?"

"When I think she's ready."

"You mean when you're ready."

I could feel the rage radiating from both of them. "When she's ready," Mom sneered, "I'll tell her all about what kind of man her father was."

Dad let out an angry huff of air but retreated from the room all the same.

"Where are you going now?" she demanded, trailing down the hall after him.

"On a walk. I need some fucking air." His curt reply was punctuated by the sound of the door opening and closing behind him as he abandoned the apartment once again, likely in search of a bar and another bottle of beer.

What was going on? Was Dad leaving? I knew he and Mom had their fair share of arguments but I didn't think it was that bad. And who was that person they were talking about? Did Dad have someone else? Did Mom? Could I -if I had bothered to pay more attention- have stopped this from happening? Did I have anything to do with this?