The Bright Side of Darkness

Sixteen

They'd been fighting. Bills couldn't be paid, and Dad just got laid off. Ma was the only one who had a job, but being a server at Tia Mia's wasn't exactly a breadwinner's job. There was no way she could support a family of five on an income only slightly higher than minimum wage while going to college for her nursing degree.

Gavin sighed as he sat down on the bed, glancing over at Lottie and me. Lottie's lip is trembling as she pulls her legs to her chest.

Ma and Dad never fought. This was the first time we heard them fight, and Gavin didn't seem like he knew what to do. Being only sixteen, he had no clue what to do with a twelve and thirteen-year-old scared that a perfect marriage was ending.

He chewed on his lip and ran a hand through his hair as he turns to us. "You guys wanna go for a ride? Ice cream or something? Maybe a mall trip?"

I doubted any of us were hungry, but it was an excuse to get away from the fighting. A very welcome excuse. We nodded and followed Gavin through the back door and down the steps of the balcony.

Gavin just got his license not too long ago, but we'd already been in the car with him at least a dozen times. He knew what he was doing. I fell asleep in the passenger side of his car as he turned up the music on the radio.

When I woke up in the dream, Lottie is gone, and I'm four years older than before. The car swerves, and I realize where I am.

"Vin, stop the car and switch seats with me." My heart raced as I grabbed the handle in fear. "I haven't been drinking. You have."

He laughed loudly, taking his hands off the wheel to demonstrate how capable he was. "I'm doin' just fine," he slurred.

I didn't believe him. His eyes began to flutter, and the light ahead of us began to turn green. Maybe he would take it slow for my sake. I hoped so.

He did. Much to my relief. But that didn't matter as bright headlights shone through Gavin's window before metal hit metal. Tires screeched. Someone screamed. I think it was me.

I jolt off my desk with a yell, my hand clutching my speeding heart. It was just a dream. But it's also more than that. It's a memory. One that I don't want to relive ever again.

"Tay?" Dad bursts through the door, unannounced but not unwelcome. "What happened?"

I drop my head to my hands. There is no reason to make him worry, but I need to talk to someone.

"I'm seeing things again." Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh. "The crash, I mean. I saw it all again. It was my fault. I should have stopped him."

"Oh, Tay." His footsteps crossing the floor are my only warning before he wraps his arms around me briefly. He sits on the bed beside me, and I lean my head on his shoulder like I did when I was little. It's comforting and reminds me of a time when I had nothing to worry about other than whether I would get a cookie after dinner. Times like that feel so far away now.

I try to speak, but he shushes me. Downstairs, it's quiet, so it has to be late, but I know my dad. He was probably awake and waiting for something like this to happen. I hate that I do this to him.

He takes my hands in his, his grip so strong that his wedding ring digs into my skin. "They're just thoughts." His voice is steady. "Say it, please."

"They're just thoughts." I echo the words but not the calm.

"Good. It wasn't your fault. " When I look away from him, he grips my arms harder.

"It wasn't my fault."

He's wrong. It was my fault.

"How many thoughts does the human brain deliver in a single day?" Facts now. That's step two in Operation: Distract Tay.

"Seventy thousand," I whisper as tears splash against my arms.

"That's right. Do you listen to seventy thousand thoughts a day?"

I shake my head.

"Of course, you don't. This thought is one in seventy thousand. It's not special. Repeat it."

"It's not special," I echo.

"Good." He pinches my chin and lifts my head. This close, I can smell the familiar spice of his cologne and breath it in to center myself. "Your mom and I love you. Remember that."

The two of us have been here before. It hasn't happened in a long time, but Dad slips into his assigned role as if it is second nature. He's been well trained since the accident. I hate it.

"Your mom made peanut butter pie. Wanna go down and have some of it?"

I know he won't sleep tonight unless he's sure I'm okay, so I nod. My legs are wobbly as I stand, but I hold on to his outstretched arm and find the banister to follow him down the stairs.

Food sounds nice. I fell asleep at my desk and ended up skipping dinner. My parents probably didn't want to wake me up, but it isn't like I would have eaten anyway. Since the accident, my appetite is practically nonexistent. But no one can pass up Ma's famous peanut butter pie. Not even me.

I'm not sure how much pie dad scooped onto my plate, but considering the weight of it, there are at least two pieces.

"Are you trying to fatten me up, Dad?" I smile and take a bite, allowing the sweet dessert to melt on my tongue. Ma tried to teach me how to make brownies once, but it turned out so badly that we agreed not to let me near the oven ever again. Not that the oven I baked with survived the ordeal.

"What makes you think that?" Glass clatters against glass before he shuts the fridge.

"You had to put a lot of pie on the plate for it to be so heavy." I shovel another spoonful into my mouth as I wait for a response.

"Oh, no." He laughs. It's nice to hear, even though it's hushed. His laughter isn't something I hear often anymore. "You didn't have dinner so I figured you would be pretty hungry."

"Oh." He isn't wrong. I didn't feel hungry before, but now that I'm eating, my stomach is growling for more.

Once I finish my pie, he helps me back upstairs and into my bed. Despite being afraid the memory will return, my eyes get too heavy to keep open. I try to force them open as Dad pats my shoulder, but with my stomach full and my mind tired, I can't fight off the darkness.