Page 21 of We Drank the Dawn

“Thank you, Cal.”

Dad’s voice sharpened, directed at me. “I’m assuming you have stuff to pack?”

“Upstairs.”

“I don’t know why you’re still sitting there then.”

I stood, wanting to hold my chin high but it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. So I kept my hat down, covering my face, as I made my way up the stairs and into my old bedroom. Shoving stuff into my duffle bag, I cursed my blindness the entire time.

“You missed our turn,” I said as Sarah blew right past the turn-off for our neighborhood.

“I know.”

Starting to sweat from the full-throttle heat blowing straight at my eyeballs, I reached forward and yanked the direction of the vent to the side. “Where are we going?”

She didn’t answer.

“Sarah?”

“You know what, Peter?” Her tone was the usual—cold as ice. “I don’t really feel like chatting with you right now.”

I scoffed. “Well, neither do I, but can’t I at least know our destination?”

“If I tell you, you’ll probably whine for the rest of the day.”

My jaw clenched as familiar rage pumped through my veins again. “Just because I’m blind, I don’t get a say on where I go?”

“Oh, stop it.” Sarah seethed. “Me not telling you has nothing to do with you being blind, and everything to do with your giant entitlement attitude. What happened with your dad was embarrassing, and I’m not ready to deal with your bitching yet.”

“Embarrassing for you?”

“Yes! I will never live that down.”

I scoffed and laughed at the same time somehow. “Enlighten me. How does me getting chewed out by my dad embarrass you?”

“Because the man I married is…” Her words tapered off as a surge of emotions squeezed her voice. “Never mind. Just forget about how I might feel. That’s the theme recently anyway.”

She’d left a lot to unpack with that statement. “Finish your thought.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Just say it. Might as well! ‘Because the man you married is…’ what?”

She paused. “I don’t even know where I was going with that.”

“Try.”

“Stop.” She took a shaky inhale. “I promised myself that I wouldn't fight with you.”

“Well, it seems like we already are, so we should just say what needs to be said. I want to know why my dad chewing me out embarrassed you.”

She turned on her blinker. I frowned. We were merging onto I-50?

“Because it’s like you’ve reverted back to childhood. And it’s humiliating to watch my husband cry to his mommy. When you go to her for help it makes me feel like I’m not doing a good enough job taking care of you and—” Her voice raised a little as her emotion escalated. “And I’m killing myself trying to take care of you and love you and be everything you need.”

“Then just stop. You don’t have to do all that. I don’t want you to.”

“So, you want me to stop working and paying the bills? Or making dinner, doing laundry, and cleaning? Last time I checked, Peter, you weren’t doing housework or bringing home a paycheck.”