Seventeen year old Lauren is a closet poet who has everything under control (she claims) in regards to her taking care of her two younger sisters and her bipolar mother. But when her allegedly sober father wants back into their lives everything spin...
To have a lyrical name may have lead her to a more lyrical life,
instead of this one, which...
so far,
offered her only a steady stream of disappointment and regret.
Still, the optimistic Lauren waits (with great hope)
And....anticipation
for her actual,
real,
lyrical
life to begin.
discommode
verb
to cause inconvenience to; disturb, trouble, or bother.
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"Can we get the rainbow bubbles?" Sara loves it when I take her to the drive-thru car wash. She squeals with delight when the red-blue-green soap suds fall down onto the windshield like Rainbow Dash melting over ice.
I had to get out of the house. I spent the good part of this morning trying to persuade Mom to take her pills. It was mostly me reasoning on a loop, while she sat there watching me as if my forehead was projecting her favorite movie. I was putting on a one-woman show in her bedroom, and she was the polite, attentive audience member who didn't dare interrupt the performance.
The rest of the morning was spent arguing with Matty over seeing Dad for our weekly dinner scheduled for tonight.
"This will be our third one and he still hasn't apologized. I'm not going."
"What if tonight's the night?"
"It won't be." She stormed off to her room, which made Sara burst into hysterics.
So, in an effort to distract, here we are, enveloped in a kaleidoscope of multicolored foam.
"We should come here every day," Sara says.
"I think we need to give the car time to get dirty."
"Why? You take a shower every day."
"That's true."
"Are you dirtier than Mommy's car?"
"I guess I am."
I get out of the now shiny car and proceed to tidy up the insides by vacuuming. I'm bent down, fishing for junk between the seats when I'm startled by a guy's voice. "Hey, Lauren."
