"Today, however can change things for better or worse. The outcome depends on you."
When a marriage fails the residue trickles down to everyone in the family. Sixteen-year-old Daya Nicole Johnston must fight to understand what is happening in her li...
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"Hey, are you two alright?"
My brother said as he walked down the stairs. By then we had retired to the couch. I was sitting with my chin laid upon my knees and my mom's head was on top of my head with her arms around me. The only sound besides his voice was the news splattered on the television.
"Yes, did we wake you?" My mom retorted turning away from the TV to look at him.
"Yeah, but I needed to get up anyway." Denny took a seat beside her and I saw him nudge his head towards me. "You're supposed to be resting. How is your hand, baby?" When I looked over, I saw the off-white cast that was still wrapped around his hand and concentrated on his knuckles.
"I can rest just fine from here. What happened to Day?" Taking a breath, I whispered, "Daya's just experienced an emotional breakdown and had a tiny panic attack, but yeah, she's fine," before putting my head farther in between my legs and wrapping my arms around them tighter.
"Yeah you look like the pinnacle of fine," Denny said to me.
"So, do you," I sassed.
"Kids, I know things are tough right now, but I know they will get better," I felt my moms soft hand lather my shoulder.
"Do you ever get tired of saying that or is it just second nature to you now?" Denny probed in a way that seemed condescending to me. A sigh escaped my mouth. I just wanted all of this to be over.
"Dennis, you're tired or hungry or whatever it is, but I need you to be patient."
"I can't be the only one sick of this at this point. It's been months. Patience hasn't gotten me anything but broken knuckles," he slammed his uncasted hand on the couch cushion.
"Son, I believe you got those from being the opposite of patient. God, you're so hotheaded sometimes like your dad. I see so much of him in you and it worries me."
Back and forth, words were being spewed between the two of them. After a few minutes, I tuned it out and could only hear the low rumble of the TV. A few minutes later that went away too. I think I was looking at the TV for a while and my eyes started hurting so I looked down at the natural angle my pupils wanted to go, my feet. They were tiny, pale and I probably needed to cut my toenails, but at least they were there.
"Everything sucks, and we just have to sit here like dogs and deal with it!"
Sound started to come back to me. I didn't want it to. I wasn't ready for complete sentences to enter my ears again. Sometimes it's nice to sit in silence and not have to hear other people's thoughts all the time.
"I know you don't want to hear this, but there is nothing you can do."
I wasn't ready. I clutched my ears and began hammering in a low rambling sound at them, "Listen." I bellowed which resulted in the silence I so urgently sought, minus the small screen.
