And in the middle of that contemplation , mom starts crying all of the sudden , not really noticeably , but her eyes are red and she ’ s blowing her nose , and I stare at her trying to figure out why she ’ s crying , but I know for a fact that I wouldn ’ t want her to stare at me when I ’ m crying because it ’ s a weakness I don ’ t want others to see , so I just concentrate on having dinner . Auntie asks why mom ’ s crying and grandma asks too , and mom says the food ’ s spicy is all , and I ’ m still trying to figure out why she ’ s crying because I can ’ t recall any triggers . Then all the grownup women talk about their girls and how difficult and tiresome raising their children is , and I sit there feeling guilty as hell because that ’ s me they ’ re talking about .
Mom starts crying all over again on the way home and they ’ re now having an argument , which is ten times worse . They ’ re talking with raised voices behind closed doors because I ’ m supposed to be studying , but I can hear their voices faintly over the three layers of wall , except I can ’ t hear the specifics and it feels like my stomach is dropping because this can turn into a Real Fight and I don ’ t want to spend the rest of the week walking on eggshells . I desperately wish for my sister .
The morning after is the Cold War and I ’ m careful not to disturb mom or dad , making myself as insignificant and small as possible because the only collateral damage that can happen here is me . Dad and I have brunch and I keep staring at the clock on the right wall , mentally allocating hours to my essay writing and test prep and homework , and the only sound in the house is mom clicking at her computer and us having our food , and mom suddenly packs her bag and leaves the house to god knows where , and it ’ s the first time I wonder what would happen if mom were to one day decide that she ’ s had enough shit and leave out the door , which is highly unrealistic but terrifying all the same .
For the umpteenth time I feel bad for dad because he ’ ll never get to know what an ideal happy family feels like . Dad and mom are different to the core and I feel bad for mom because he won ’ t ever understand her , not really , and mom says it ’ s like having two seniors in the house because dad ’ s always studying , and she has to be so alone . I see two spoons beside her spot in the living room , and I know they ’ re there because she ’ s been pressing them on her eyes to make them less swollen from all the crying , and it kills me .
Dad and I go out for dinner , and the restaurant around us thrives with activity but we ’ re depressed and silent . Dad says depression is contagious , and I can see it ’ s really taking a toll on him , and he says , “ I think I ’ m becoming a tad depressed myself , how about you ?”
And I can ’ t tell him I ’ ve gone through a whole era of depression far worse than this two years ago for different reasons and this is nothing compared to that , so I say , “ I ’ m fine . I ’ m fine because this will all pass , and it feels like it can ’ t get any worse than this , but it ’ s fine .”
And dad says , “ I feel really guilty whenever she talks about married life like it ’ s a bad thing ”, and that ’ s the first time he ’ s acknowledged that , so I give him a level look and don ’ t say anything , because it ’ s not really his fault . It ’ s no one ’ s fault .
We get home and light the candles on the birthday cake and I ask mom if she wants some cake but she tells me she doesn ’ t want any . Dad asks her to come and blow out the candles , and she ’ s in the living room and doesn ’ t answer for awhile , but then dad asks again and she turns around and stomps to the kitchen . For a moment I think she ’ s decided to grace us with her presence but she pulls the candles out like weeds from a garden and throws them on the floor . Her voice is something horrible when she says , “ I don ’ t want the goddamn cake so stop bothering me . It was so much better here without you both .”
Dad and I are just frozen there for a minute . I can see our reflections on the window , and I ’ m still processing what just happened , but then dad now looks more angry than depressed so
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