La mia Scrittura

The house was oddly quiet when I walked in off the school bus. I thought I remembered mom telling me she would be home all day, and I could have sworn I saw her car in the driveway, maybe she was in the garden.
My phone vibrated in my left pocket and I pulled it out. Ethan. I smiled as I opened my phone to read the text.
i had a great day today. see you tomorrow. Ethan
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and I couldn’t help feeling giddy. God, he was just so awesome. When he’d suggested writing me a note to get out school for the day, I’ll admit, I was skeptical. But when I gave in my note, signed out and left the school with no questions asked, I felt a sense of exhilaration. What a rush.
We’d spent the entire day driving around the city, parking in various places and taking walks. We ate lunch, and talked non stop. He was such a good listener, so attentive and sweet. It didn’t matter to me that he was 6 years older than me, a college drop out working as a mechanic for his father – he was the smartest man I knew, and might I admit, the best looking.
Voices suddenly floated into the front hall. I listened carefully and realized they were coming from the kitchen. As I approached, I noticed that my mother was using The Voice. We called it that because she only used it when she was really angry and when she did use it, you knew you were in for it.
But who was she talking to? Surely it wasn’t my father, she wouldn’t talk to him like that. And it couldn’t be Patrick because he was supposed to be staying after school for soccer practice. When I walked into the kitchen, I got the immediate impression that someone had died. Everyone was there, dad at the kitchen table sipping coffee, mom leaning against the kitchen counter, and Patrick standing a safe distance away from both of them. I felt a moment of intense panic and then Patrick looked at me. A look flashed through his eyes. Animosity? Hatred?
“Anna, we’re having a private conversation.” He said to me immediately.
“No, no.” Mom said, her voice firm and cold. “She should be here for this. Teach her something at the same time.”
Slowly and as quietly as a mouse, I crept to the other side of the kitchen and sat at the table with my dad. He looked at me with regret in his eyes and patted my hand, letting me know I was not the one who was in trouble.
“So, what did you do all morning? Smoke drugs?” Mom asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Mom!” Patrick cried with the same alarm as I felt. Patrick smoking drugs? Never. “You know I would never do that!”
“Pfft!” She rolled her eyes. “I thought you would never skip school either.”
“Patrick skipped school?” I cried before I could stop myself. Did they know I had skipped school, too?
Patrick turned to me with pure hatred. “Anna”-
“Don’t take this out on your sister, young man,” Mom said. “This is your doing.”
For a moment there was silence.
“Well, did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Do drugs?”
Patrick looked at dad for help, and when he got no reaction he looked back at mom in astonishment. “No I didn’t do drugs!” he cried.
“Then why would you do something so foolish as to skip school? There has to be a reason!”
Patrick looked at me, and for a split second I thought he was trying to tell me something, but then he bowed his head and studied his hands.
“Answer your mother.” My dad said after receiving a look from mom.
“I just…did. I didn’t feel like going to class.”
Why was he acting like this? Like he didn’t care? He wasn’t defending himself, wasn’t even trying to make it right. What was going on?
“Well, you’re grounded for a month. No TV, no Internet, no phone. You’re to come straight home from school and do your homework, have dinner, do your chores and go to bed. Do I make myself clear?”
Dad’s body stiffened, and for a second, I thought he was going to add to his punishment.
“But mom, what about soccer practice?”
She shook her head turning her back on him as she began washing the dishes. “No soccer. We told you that if your school suffered, you’d be off the team. I think this situation applies.”
I watched as dad gripped his mug tightly, opened and closed his mouth, but nothing ever came out. Instead, he picked up his mug, got up from the table and left the room.



I had come home early, as requested, to have a nice afternoon with my wife, and within minutes the whole thing had gone bust. It’s amazing how one phone call can turn a woman from a beautiful sunflower to a menacing serpent.
That’s the way it had been with Lucy t he last couple of years. One minute she was lovely and great to be with and the next minute you wanted to slit your wrists to get away from her. Okay, maybe slitting your wrists is a little drastic, but you know what I mean. But in the last couple of years, it hadn’t been quite right in our relationship. We rarely had anything to talk about, nothing in common. We went from being best friends to practically strangers in 15 years.
She’d made a wonderful late lunch; roast beef sandwiches, potato salad, and some homemade warm apple pie. It looked delicious and my mouth watered when she pulled the pie out of the oven.
Just as we sat down at the kitchen table, the telephone rang. We both jumped, the phone interrupting the silence between us.
“Hello?...this is she…he what?...did he now?…oh, I will…yes, thank you for calling…goodnight.” She hung up the phone with such force I thought the entire thing would detach itself from the wall.
“What is it?” I asked with a mouthful of potato salad.
She looked at me with dangerous eyes, if I would have known it impossible, I would have sworn her eyes had turned red. “Our son got caught skipping school today.”
I swallowed hard. “Are you sure?”
“What kind of question is that? Am I sure? Well, the teacher just called, that should make me damn sure.”
I said nothing. I knew what would happen next, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to say or do anything that would provoke it.
With speed and ferociousness, Lucy started gathering the dishes, whether they had food on them or not and made trip after trip, depositing them into the sink. I wanted to tell her that she should dump the food first, so as not to clog the sink. That was a bill I didn’t want to have to pay again. But, as usual, I remained quiet, even when she grabbed my plate that was not yet empty and practically threw it in the sink, the dishes clanging together.
She turned on her heels, and bolted out of the room.
Quietly, I went to the coffee maker and poured myself a cup of coffee. I did so quickly, so that I could be sitting when she returned to the kitchen. When she was in a mood like that, you didn’t want to get caught in her way.
As I sat at my seat, I heard the front door open and close, the sound of a schoolbag hitting the floor and footsteps coming towards the kitchen.
He came into the room looking somewhat guilty but smiled at me nonetheless. I was about to warn him when she came back in the room.
“How was school today, sweetheart?” Lucy asked in her most pleasant, motherly voice.
He shrugged. “Well, you know.”
And just like that, her voice changed. It was as if a dark cloud had perched itself above our home. “Oh, I know.”
Patrick placed his snack down on the counter and looked at his mother. He knew that she knew.
The front door opened and closed again, the same sounds emanating from the front foyer, followed by my cheerful daughter entering the room.
When Patrick saw his sister, his body stiffened, but I couldn’t see the look on his face as he had his head turned away from me. “Anna, we’re having a private conversation.”
Lucy jumped on him like a hawk. “No, no. She should be here for this, teach her something at the same time.”
Aware of what the tone in her mother’s voice meant, Anna crossed the kitchen and sat beside me at the table. I looked at her with the softest expression I could muster, and put my hand over hers, telling her that I felt for her, felt for both of them.
I tried to drone out the rest of the conversation. That point was probably the point where I really truly thought about my future with my wife. How could I continue on like this? My children living in fear, so miserable and lost. It just wasn’t fair.
When I heard the words; “You’re grounded,” I wanted to jump up and protest. Yes, I agree it would be beneficial for Patrick to lose privileges, it would teach him to be more responsible but I didn’t think that the extent of his punishment was necessary. Especially when she denied him his access to his favorite sport. At that moment, I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. When Lucy and I first had children, we had promised one another to always back each other up, never undermine the other. Well, I was the type of person to keep my promises and it wouldn’t benefit anyone, least of all my children, to undermine her at this point, what with her being on the warpath and all.
But at that moment, the moment when I got up with my coffee mug and left the room, I knew that it was over. I could no longer be with someone whom I despised as much as I did her.

I knew something was wrong the minute I walked in the door. Dad was home and mom wasn’t cooking. Mom was always cooking. The weirdest part, the part that tipped me off, was when I walked into the kitchen as dad was sitting at the kitchen table with this drawn out look on his face. He opened his mouth to say something when mom crept up behind me with that mock cheerfulness. My skin began to crawl and I had to work at not wincing at those words. Sweetheart, she should know by now that that word gave it all away. She never used that word and she was definitely never that nice.
I debated on letting it all out the minute she asked me how school was for I knew they both knew. But there was still a slight chance that none of them knew, and that I was in trouble for something else.
Just as the battle had begun, my sister walked in the door. My darling, sweet sister who was the cause of this situation.
I gave her a look, trying to tell her that I knew, I knew all about her and her 22 year old boyfriend. Despicable! She was 16 for God’s sake! All week, since I’d heard it from my best buddy, I’d felt sick to my stomach. I had to know, and I had to see it for myself to believe it. I skipped my last two periods, even knowing that if I didn’t attend a full day of school, I wouldn’t be able to go to soccer practice.
At first, they just seemed like friends, walking around talking and laughing. But when they got into his car and I saw the way he kissed her, I thought I would lose my breakfasts from the past week. The worst part was that I knew him. I knew about his reputation for being a bad boy, a ladies man. Ha! A bad boy! Sure, a guy like him who couldn’t even finish high school and had to work for his father, who paid him minimum wage, could be considered a bad boy. I called him a loser.
Anna didn’t notice the look.
I didn’t listen to a word mom said; I just stared into her dark face, those unfamiliar eyes. She’d changed so much in the past couple of years, mostly so in the last year. She used to be warm and patient. Now she was this monster none of us recognized.
He didn’t think we noticed, but I saw the way dad looked at her. Like she was a stranger, someone who had taken up his wife’s body.
“So, what did you do all morning? Smoke drugs?”
I had to fight back the urge to laugh. Smoke drugs. If she knew what I had actually been doing, she would have wished it was that simple. I looked at my father and sister with mock protest and denied the allegations. Smoke drugs. Ha!
“Mom!” I cried. “You know I would never do that.”
“Pftt.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought you would never skip school either.” Just then, I thought I saw something in her eyes. Guilt? Regret? Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone and I didn’t feel the least bit remorseful. She deserved all the heart ache she got, considering the way she’d been treating us these past months. I debated telling her about Anna, knew it would feel like a swift kick in the ass, but I didn’t want to do that to Anna. Plus, I think my talking to her would have more of an impact than if she were to be grounded for the rest of her life. It would just cause more turmoil, and Anna wasn’t the type to just sit and take it.
Mom went on to ground me and deny me of my soccer practice but all I saw was that slimy, grease monkey fondling my sister. I looked over at her again, watching this whole spectacle with wide eyes. Again, I tried to tell her, but she had no idea. She had no idea about of any of it. What he would do to her, that he would hurt her, humiliate her. She better not be sleeping with him because I heard he already had a couple shit monsters crawling 0around somewhere. She didn’t know anything about anything.


Today was going to be the day that I told my family. I took the day off of work, asked my husband to come home for lunch, maybe even take the afternoon off and made a wonderful lunch. Yup, today I would do it. I knew it was time; it was time to end all of the secrets, all of this misery.
Although, what I had to tell them would surely bring them more misery, but at least we would be united in the pain, and not separated as it was at present. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t live with this secret, do this all on my own. I needed more strength than I had, and I knew my family could give it to me.
The medication was really getting to me these past couple of months. Insane mood swings, paranoia, nausea. I could see the look in my children’s faces when I would yell and scream at them, enraged at them for not knowing and enraged at myself for not being able to control my emotions.
When I got the phone call, I was feeling confident. I hadn’t yet spoken much to my husband, so caught up in thoughts of what I would say. I just knew, though, that as soon as I said it, things would be okay again. The phone call got in the way of that.
“Mrs. Harrison?”
“This is she.”
“Mrs. Harrison, this Mr. Carter, I’m Patrick’s principle.”
I froze. Principle? Why would Patrick’s principle be calling? Patrick must be sick! Oh, my gosh. What happened? Was he injured?
The principle continued when he realized I wasn’t about to respond.
“I regret calling you at this time to tell you that Patrick failed to show up for his classes this morning.”
I mustn’t have heard right. Patrick, skip school? That had to be a mistake; he hadn’t done anything wrong his entire life. “He what?”
“He wasn’t in his morning classes, but he attended his afternoon classes which makes me believe that he skipped.”
“Did he now?” The rage that was building in me was so strong. He’d had me worried, petrified that something bad had happened. It’s funny how worry can so quickly turn into anger.
“Surely, you will be speaking with him when he arrives home this afternoon.”
I clenched my fists and attempted to avert the curious gaze of my innocent husband. “Oh I will.”
“Perfect. Well have a good evening Mrs. Harrison.”
“Goodnight.” I attempted to put the phone back on the receiver gently, but was sure I heard a crack in the plaster.
At this time, rage completely took over my body. I don’t even remember the moments between the phone conversation and the conversation with my son. I do remember, however, that at some point, I raced upstairs to take a pill that I hoped would calm my nerves.
As I belted out harsh words, erroneous accusations and unjustified punishments, I caught the looks from my family.
They hated me. Each and every one of them absolutely hated my guts – they couldn’t stand the sight of me. I waited too long. For too long I’d been keeping this secret from my family, attempting to shield them from the pain, only to cause them more pain. There was an enormous gulf between us now, and I wasn’t sure it was something that I could fix, no matter what I tried to do.
When I was diagnosed with the cancer three years ago, I had done the same treatments. I was doing now, and I had been “cured” within months. Things definitely weren’t the same after that, though. I saw things in a different light, different perspective, but I tried really hard. When it came back around Christmas time last year, I knew this time was different. I could feel it. This time, I wouldn’t make it through. I received great support from my doctors who told me that it was possible for me to beat it this time, and that was why I chose to keep it a secret. But as the months got longer, and pain got worse, I knew that they were wrong.
But I waited too long. Too much damage had been done to my family. They will never forgive me. It will never be the same now, no matter how much time I give it. It’s over, it’s all over.