Forget me lots (Completed)

22. Dawn 🍃

"What is wrong with you, Dawn?" Mom paces back and forth. I swear she's leaving smoke volutes on her way. They lift from the wooden planks and billow around her frame. I don't even know what she is saying. It's a swirl of fury and fear and disappointment.

It's Monday afternoon, and I'm not sure if there was a Sunday in-between my last outing with River, my failed attempt at goodbye and this moment. Where did time go? Where have I been? I'm not even sure if I went to class today. Guess not, by the looks of my muddy boots. Was I by Elsie's lake? Was River with me? What's going on?

Dad's rambles have become a constant background noise in my head. He goes on and on about his death and how he should've told me his chest hurt so bad he could barely breathe sometimes. Mom drones on too. I try talking to my father, but he won't tell me what to say or how to act. River has texted me endlessly, but everytime I think about answering, I chicken out. Nothing makes sense.

"Are you even listening, Dawn?" Mom throws her hands into the air, her frustration adding to the emotions pouring off her.

"I am, Mom. Just let me—"

"How could you cut classes and run off with River like that? The school called, and I met with the Principal today. You've been missing school from day one," she growls and I flinch.

She's grown the size of the entire room. I feel tiny in comparison.

"You are in so much shit right now, do you understand me?" When she snorts, the air coming out of her nose burns my skin.

I do understand. I am in such shit. I've been in shit for longer than I can explain. It started when I was a baby, already bringing so much shit under my bundle. It all began when you pushed me out of your vagina, Mom. When I mutated into this undead zombie and made you so sad, you had to pack our bags and move elsewhere. When I made everyone around me uncomfortable because of the shitty mess that I am and Dad worried I might hate him because he was sick. I know because he won't shut up about it.

My gaze turns to my left side, past the turquoise strandmon wing chair and its footstool, where Mom stands—sadness oozing out of her eyes. Her skin is so pale it's almost see-through.

"What have you just said? That your dad has told you what?" Her expressionless gaze haunts me. She runs both hands through her hair, pulling a bit at the base of her scalp. "Dawn, what does this mean?"

Wait... did I say that aloud? Have I gone too far and told Mom about my talks with Dad?

Mom looks apoplectic, like she's been sucking on an exhaust pipe. Her lips pinched, her face ashen. My insides rattle. Have I also mentioned Dad's voice turning hazy and disappearing? Or about my whirlwind, or the blankness that is waiting to slide in? I'm not ready for her to know... I've been pretending to be all put together. A normal teen, walking, messaging, going on bike rides. Lying. Covering the fact that I miss my dad so much my bones burn. Has she known all this time how slippery things can be for me?

"So, are you just going to stand there, Dawn?" She huffs. "What is this all about? What about school and your education? When were you going to tell me about these runaway incidents, huh? Why didn't you tell me you've heard Dad all this time?"

I open my mouth to answer, but how do you answer five different questions at the same time?

One, I cannot move because your anger has made you grow so big you are taking up all the space, and so I've shrunk to the size of a whisper.

Two, it's about Dad, Mom. I need to find my way back to him again. Make him forgive me for falling for a watery boy and almost forgetting everything else. I think he might be upset because I have a bag of feelings for a boy that keeps me rooted and away from his voice. He's everywhere but here with me.