Blossoming Madness IX

Going home from Andrew’s is the usual walk but it feels longer than usual. Lost in my thoughts, I turn the same ideas over and over in my head. Am I too skinny? I remember seeing a video of an anorexic woman who saw things like a double chin and a pot belly on her when in reality she was stick thin. Could that be the same thing for me? Andrew could be right about me...Andrew. There’s something I’d rather not think about. What I heard...what I felt...no. I shouldn’t be thinking about him right now. My wei-

“Fiala, where have you been?” 

My father is sitting in the living room with his arms crossed. His face looks tense and maybe a little worried but I’m more concerned about why he’s even home.

“Uh, Andrew’s. You know, where I always go after school. Oh wait, you wouldn’t know since you’re never home!”

Where did he get the idea that he has any authority here? We haven’t spoken in over a month, he’s been too busy ignoring me.

“Young lady, you cannot talk to me like that.”

“And you can’t talk to me like that. These are the first words you’ve spoken to me in almost a month. 


Where is all of this unearned authority coming from?

“Fiala! You cannot talk to your father like that. Now apologize and tell me why you were over at a boy’s house. Right now.”

I sigh. I might as well indulge his little phase and see what happens.

“I’m sorry.” I say, hoping I come off as slightly sincere.

He looks at me and gestures at me to continue. 

“I was at Andrew’s, you know, my best friend for three years, because that is where I go everyday after school to do homework and watch “Animal Planet”. On the weekends I spend most of my day over there and they feed me breakfast, lunch, and dinner more than you do. Remember now?”

He just blinks. The rage gone now, he’s reverting back to his shell, unable to address the facts I’m presenting him with. 

“Well I suppose that’s all right...”

“So, I’m going to go upstairs now.” I say.

He just nods and opens up the Stephen King novel next to him, burrowing his head into the words. I wonder what it’s like to have a real father.

I turn from the room and walk towards the stairs. Once I’m out of sight I rush upstairs, burst through my bedroom door, and collapse onto the purple carpet. All day I’d felt the tears building up behind my smile and now, with the random variable of my father, they had perfect reason to begin pouring out. I lay on my floor, letting the royal fibers soak up my tears, for the next fifteen minutes. More than ever I wish I had someone to hug. Of course, I know it’s ridiculous for me to be doing this.

“Come on. How over dramatic can I get?” I say to Flamalamadingdong, the stinkbug near my bookshelf.

“I mean, seriously. So what if I just found out that my best friend likes me. So what if I might even like him back. So what if that will completely overturn my entire world. So freaking what!? It’s not like my life is hard. I have a school and a house and pretty much no father. I can do what I like, why am I so upset?”

Unfortunately, this out burst brings on another round of tears and I imagine Flama turning his deceased eyes down to spare me the embarrassment of having a stinkbug see me cry. Yepp, this is what my life has come to. 

Breaking the silence, I hear my computer ding rapidly, reminding me of my bed time. If I want to get enough sleep each night I must go to bed at six. That way, my two o’clock wake up leaves me seven hours of sleep. I have no real friends outside of Andrew (who knows to not call after six) so I can usually obtain those precious hours. If I’m lucky.

I wonder what Andrew’s thinking about now...






[Sorry for the short chapter, does anyone have ANY edits for me? Shmiles and joy:)]