Chapter 35
Kyle
When I woke up the next day, I knew exactly what I wanted to tell my parents. I sat up in the corner of the bed, running my hands through my hair. Enough was enough. I'd made Aria a promise, and I intended to keep it.
Their constant fighting was tearing us apart. In trying so hard to stay together for our sake, they were only making us wish we could get as far away from them as possible.
I went to Aria's room, and I found her drawing at her table.
"Hey," I said softly from her doorway. "Did you sleep at all?"
She shrugged. "A little. After you left."
"Remember what I said last night? About having a family meeting?"
She looked up at me with hope and fear warring in her expression. "You were serious about that?"
"Completely serious." I walked into her room and sat on the edge of her bed. "We're going to talk to them today. Right now, actually."
"But what if they get mad? What if it makes things worse?"
I took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Ari, it can't get worse than this. And if they get angry, that's on them, not you. They're the ones who put us in a position where we have to act like the adults."
She was quiet for a moment, then nodded, "Okay. What do we do?"
"We're going to make them breakfast," I said, standing up and giving her my hand. "And then we're going to sit them down and tell them exactly how this is affecting us. No more pretending everything's fine. No more suffering in silence."
“Sounds good.”
We made our way downstairs quietly and then started preparing everything in the kitchen for when they got up.
Once everything was ready, we carried the plates and glasses to the dining room and set the table carefully.
Then we sat down side by side, facing the two empty chairs where our parents would sit, and waited.
Finally, we heard footsteps on the stairs. Mom appeared first, and behind her, Dad, still a little sleepy.
"What's this about?" she asked, faking a smile.
"What a kind surprise," Dad said, "look, honey, our children wanted to have a family breakfast together." He kissed her forehead, and she closed her eyes, pretending she liked it, but I could feel her disgust.
"We need to talk," I said before they could get comfortable, my voice serious. "And it's very important."
"Very important," Aria echoed beside me, her voice smaller than mine but no less determined.
Mom and Dad exchanged a look. "Okay," Dad said carefully. "What's going on?"
I looked at Aria, giving her the option to speak first. She shook her head slightly, squeezing my hand under the table.
Alright. I could do this. I'd faced down much worse than this conversation. Except I hadn't. Not really. Because this was my family, and somehow that made it harder than anything else I'd done since coming back.
"I found Aria crying in her room last night." I began. "Because you two were fighting so loudly that she could hear everything, even with headphones on. She heard you saying such terrible things to each other that she couldn't sleep because of it."
"Kyle—" Mom started, but I held up my hand.
"Please, just let us finish." I took a breath, steadying myself. "This isn't the first time. It's not even the tenth time. And we can't keep pretending like this is normal or acceptable or something we just have to deal with."
"I don't like that you are fighting all the time," Aria added.
I watched my parents' faces, seeing the guilt and shame beginning to settle in their expressions.
"I have been planning to leave the country so I can be as far as this house as possible because I can't handle living here anymore, listening to you two destroy each other night after night."
"What?" Mom's voice was barely a whisper, her face going pale.
"But I'm worried about Aria," I continued, and now my own voice was starting to shake.
"Because she can't leave. She's twelve years old, and she's trapped here in the middle of your war zone.
And I'm terrified of what that's doing to her, what kind of damage it's causing that we won't see for years. "
"Kyle." My dad said, "If we had known you were listening, things would be different."
"We never wanted any of you to get involved in this. On the contrary, we want to fight for your sake," Mom added.
"I want to feel safe in my own home, and right now, this is not happening, so we need to change this now," I answered.
Mom let out a sob, covering her face with her hands. Dad reached over and took her hand. It was the first affectionate gesture I'd seen between them in weeks, and she didn't pull away.
"We're so sorry," Dad said, looking at both of us with an expression of such deep regret that it almost made me feel guilty for bringing this all up.
Almost. "You're right about everything. We've been terrible parents lately, so focused on our own problems that we couldn't see what we were doing to you. "
"We promise we'll get help. We'll find a therapist. We'll figure out what we need to do to fix this," Mom said, lowering her hands and looking at us with red, swollen eyes.
"And no more fighting like last night," Dad added.
I wanted to believe them. God, I wanted to believe them so badly.
But I knew they were no longer together in our present, and I started thinking about how having help now could help them in this new future.
"We need to see action, not just words," I said carefully.
"Make the therapy appointments. This week.
Show us that you're serious about changing. "
"We will," Mom promised. "Today. We'll start looking today."
Aria looked at me with hope, like she expected everything would be good from now on.
"Okay," I said. "Then let's eat this breakfast before it gets cold. And maybe we can try to be a family again, even if it's just for this morning."
And that's what we did. In silence, without arguments, without words that felt unnecessary, and above all, without stress, I hoped it would be like that from now on, but only time will tell.