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She watched in silence as her father tried to combat the chaos that stormed in through the front door in the shape of her mother. Her stomach twisted with sympathyā€”not for her mother, but for him. The way his shoulders sagged beneath the weight of her slurred words, the way he tried to smile at her, tried to shield her from the venomous words her mother had begun to sling. And he didn't deserve any of it. Truth of it all, neither did she, but her father had been slapped right in the middle of it all.
She sat still for a few moments after they disappeared upstairs, the words her mother had just launched like blades still ringing in her ears. Her eyes remaining on the screen of the television, the score had shown a clear loss for the Cowboys, which she normally would have been pleased about, but currently, she had felt nothing but the numbness seeping into her bones from the venom in her mother's overall exchange.
After a few more moments sitting in the once-happy home that had once been filled with laughter and love, Lily heaved a heavy sigh and got up from the couch. Grabbing the hoodie she had promised she would pick up earlier that morning and throwing it over her head, she slipped on the Nike slides she kept at the front door for those mornings she was running late. With another soft sigh, she stepped out the front door and into the quiet of the evening, welcoming the calm, cool breeze that brushed against her flushed cheek. It wasn't too late, as the sky had just begun to change its colours for the night.
Soft corals being chased away by the light lavender hues of the night's arrival. The birds that had often chirped throughout the afternoon were settling into the trees along the sidewalks of the neighbourhood, and the sounds of kids' bikes hitting their homes sounded along with the goodnight and 'see you tomorrow's' that the young kids with no cares signed off with as they went indoors.
The streets were familiar in the way dreams of childhood sometimes wereā€”slightly faded at the edges but warm with memories of a time when all had been right in the world. The streetlights started to hum, their bulbs warming so they could keep away the dark when the dusk finally broke away to the twilight of night.
The only sound now was the sound of her slides against the pavement. Soft, but noisy as her feet slid against the leaves that drifted like her thoughts in the evening breeze. With her hands in her pockets and her mind lost in a world of its own, Lily paused when she reached the end of Meadow Lane, at the park she used to play at when she was a little girl.
It hadn't changed much.
The swings still creaked in the wind, the old jungle gym stood proudly, rusted and in desperate need of a paint job, and the chipped wooden bench beneath the maple tree waited like an old friend. She sat for a while, watching the shadows sway as the sun disappeared and the pinks faded into the darker shades of the evening sky. Remembering how her dad used to push her on the swings while her mother had laughed from the picnic table. Long before all of the chaos that now filled their lives.
And all because of her illness...
Eventually, the sounds of crickets and tree frogs sounded loudly, and the cooler air urged her to leave her thoughts and head back home. She took the long way back, avoiding the glow of the living room windows. Through the back door, Lily slipped off her shoes and quietly padded further into the kitchen. The sight of the cluttered table and greasy pizza box at least gave her something to do.
Wordlessly, she began to clean.
She threw away the leftovers, wiped the counter, put the bottles back into their cabinet, and rinsed and stacked the dishes in the dishwasher. Each motion was methodical. Something she could control. Something she could do to help, even if no one noticed. Even if it didn't fix anything.
By the time the kitchen was spotless, the house had gone silent. She paused in the doorway, the faint hum of the fridge had been the only sound that remained. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the silence. Then, she turned off the light and made her way quietly upstairs. The backway...
She pushed open her bedroom door and stepped inside, slowly and as quietly as she could. She closed her door, leaning against it with a sigh, almost as if she had just snuck back indoors after being out for too long without permission. Her bed waited for her, the comforter slightly askew, inviting in its quiet familiarity. Next to it sat her keyboard, nestled against the wall where she had hung a few posters and the small shelf for her trophies and medals. She made her way to the middle of the room, caught between rest and release.
With a small breath, she turned toward the piano.
Her stool creaked softly as she took her seat. She plugged in her headphones, adjusted them over her ears, and let her fingers settle on the keys. It began with something simpleā€”a chord progression she knew by heart, something gentle and slow. But as the minutes passed, the music shifted, growing more fluid. She improvised, letting her feelings pour out in sound, unspoken and unfiltered.
She didn't know how long she had played, only that when she had finally lifted her hands, her shoulders had relaxed and the tightness in her chest had lessened. She pulled off and sat in the stillness that followed, listening to the quiet, familiar sounds of the house.
A sip of water sounded good...
Heading down the back stairs that led into the kitchen, she made way in the dark to the cabinet. Filling a glass at the sink, she drank it slowly, the coolness of the clear liquid felt refreshing. The sound of the television drew her attention to the living room.
She walked in to find her father, slumped on the couch, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly parted. The bottle of Maker's Mark and a half-empty glass were on the coffee table in front of him. The TV was playing some infomercial on low in the dim room. He looked exhausted.
Lily crossed the room quietly and picked up the throw blanket from the chair beside him. She unfolded it and draped it over him with quiet care, adjusting it to cover his chest and shoulders.
He didn't stir.
She hesitated, watching him for a momentā€”her strong, kind father reduced to a shell of weariness, burdened by the weight of love and pain both. She knew he'd wait up with a sore neck. Still, he looked more at peace now than he had earlier.
Starting up the stairs from the living room, she paused when she saw the door to her parents' bedroom standing open.
She climbed halfway up before glancing in.
Her mother lay sprawled on the bed, one arm draped over her side, her blouse unbuttoned, and her makeup smudged. There was nothing graceful in it. Just chaos and heartbreak, and the silence of sleep that followed a storm.
Lily stared for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she shook her head, almost imperceptibly, and made her way back to her room.
Tomorrow had to be better.
It just had to be...
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