16
My mind went in circles the whole taxi ride home. When I got dropped off, I used the separate entrance to my apartment. I'd told my parents I'd be out late. I hoped they hadn't realized I'd been gone the whole night.
I heard muffled yelling the moment I stepped through the front door.
I crept up the stairs leading to the main floor, dreading what I'd hear. Had they realized I hadn't been home? That could have set one, or both, of them off. Worry would have turned to fear, and the fear would have made them lash out in anger. I had no doubt they might have been fighting over me. That had been the case so many other times.
But with my ear pressed to the door, I could just barely make out the voices. No mention of my name. I caught the name of our next door neighbor. They must have been fighting over the yard again. Our neighbor was a stickler for well-sheared lawns and complained if our grass grew too long. It was my dad's job to mow. He didn't always get around to it. My mom would get mad at him for it.
A kernel of anger made its way into my own chest. It was such a stupid thing to fight over. Who the hell cared about the lawn? There were more important things in this world to worry about.
But I knew those insignificant problems were only a proxy. They couldn't fight over the real reason they were upset. My condition was no one's fault. There was no blame to spread around. But the anxiety and uncertainty lingered and festered. It started with one-off comments, snarky and biting. Eventually something would make them snap. And this was always the fallout.
I needed to go upstairs to see if I could find my other pair of sneakers. The ones I wore were sticky on the soles from spilled alcohol.
I opened the door at the top of the stairs.
The yelling immediately stopped. My mom and my dad swung to face me, their faces both bright red with anger.
My mom plastered a fake smile on her face. "Honey! How was your night? Did you get in late?"
"Not too late," I lied. "I just need my other sneakers. The blue ones."
"I think I saw them in the front hall," my dad said with a cough, clearing his throat. "Let me go get them for you."
My mom kept beaming. "Did you have fun at Tracey's party last night?"
"Yeah."
"I should have gotten her something for her birthday, too," my mom babbled. "She's always looked out for you at that hospital. It would have been a nice gesture. Do you think it's too late?"
"You don't need to give Tracey a birthday gift, Mom."
"Here you go, sweetie," my dad said as he returned with my shoes. "Heading off again?"
"Volunteering."
It wasn't a lie. I was going to spend a few hours with the kids. But it wasn't the whole truth.
Today was my doctor's appointment.
"I thought we would have brunch together?" my mom asked.
"Sorry," I said. "I forgot I have an early shift."
"Well, have a good time, then," my mom said. "Let's all have dinner together tonight, okay?"
My dad gave her the side-eye and pressed his lips together firmly. My mom studiously ignored him.
"Sure." I turned and went back downstairs without another word.
I showered and dressed. I put on my hospital volunteer uniform and my sneakers. I double-checked my bag to make sure I had everything, and I left for the hospital.
The entire way there, I forced myself not to think about my mom and dad, or Nathan, or the upcoming appointment. Which left me little else to think about.
Fortunately, Tracey ambushed me as soon as I arrived, distracting me from my thoughts.
"Becca! So glad you're here early. I was just thinking about some ideas for our News Year's in July event."
