She sits looking hopelessly out the window. The day is gray and dark and there is a mist falling gently on the grass and trees. Her tear-streaked face is blank. She doesn’t know what to think. She has forgotten how to speak.
Her mother sits next to her on the old shredded brown couch, a black eye slowly forming. She can see the cuts and bruises on her mother’s arms. She wants to ask her mother if he will ever come back, but she fears the answer. She fears her mother; she is a strong woman. But this time her mother ran to her for comfort. They both cried, long and hard until she could not take it anymore and now they both sit looking out the window, numb with pain. Her mother is numb with fear.
She watches a car pull up to the front of the little house, she thinks only she sees it, but she feels her mother tense at the sound. She hopes her brother is coming back to apologize, to start over, to make up. This is obviously not the case. He rips the door open and immediately heads up the staircase, stomping hard on the creaky, wooden stairs.
She gets up and follows, wanting to make peace where she thinks her mother can’t. She hears her mother start sobbing as she approaches the door to his room. He is packing. Dumbly, she asks why. He snaps at her. She takes a step forward and asks him not to leave. He does not reply with a word, just a loud slamming shut of his suitcase.
He blows by her and down the stairs, nearly knocking her over; she does not follow. She hears a slamming door and then a wail from her mother. The sound of a breaking heart. She hears her mother sobbing, and as she stands in the hallway she thinks of when her father left. She hears a car engine rev and she watches the green car pull away from the curb. The emotion will not hit her until later; when she realizes that it has happened again.