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I don’t want them to fight anymore. It hurts my heart and my belly.
“You fucking arsehole,” Mummy screams, and I yell with her, closing my eyes once again and pushing Robert in front of them. “The only obnoxious one is you. Thank God I still have them because a life just with you sounds like hell.”
“You’re right about that, Felice. Finally, something smart leaving your mouth. Life with you is hell,” he yells at her, and something pushes against my chest. A block. It’s heavy, and I cannot breathe.
“It’ll be okay, Robert,” I whisper again, kissing his furry head softly, but Robert just stares at me with his black eyes. He doesn’t cry, but I do.
I cry because my heart hurts. The tears roll over my cheeks, and I feel Robert’s fur getting wet. It’s becoming wetter and wetter until it sticks to my face. Sobs leave me, and I have trouble breathing.
“Please stop,” I beg when even more tears fall from my eyes. But they don’t stop. They don’t hear me.
Maybe I should go to the kitchen. Maybe they’ll hear me then? But I don’t want to see them fight. It scares me more than my dark bedroom when Mum forgets to switch on my night light.
But it’s time to go to football practice. I jump off the couch with Robert in my hand and tiptoe to the kitchen. They’re quiet again, and I smile because maybe they made up and they’re hugging.
Sebastian says his parents never fight. He says his parents hug, kiss and hold hands. He says it’s icky. Mummies and Daddies on TV hug as well. Mine don’t. But maybe this will be the day they’ll hug, and I can join them and then they’ll take me to play football.
Yes, that’s what they’ll be doing right now.
I smile, and I squeeze my fists out of joy. I’m nervous, but happy as well. My legs tremble, and my shoes walk funny. They are blue and white and have these little pointy things under the soles.
I push open the kitchen door slowly with a bright smile on my face, but a loud sound makes me take a step backwards. I don’t smile anymore.
“I should have never married you, Arthur,” Mum screams with her finger pointing at my dad.
They’re not hugging.
They’re not kissing.
They’re not holding hands.
“I should have never married such an ignorant, stupid woman, who believes family parties are more important than making sure we have a roof above our heads.”
“Mummy isn’t stupid,” I say with my lip trembling again. Tears fill my eyes. Why can’t they stop yelling?
“We have more than enough money. Family should come first.” They don’t hear me or see me.
“At the rate you’re spending it, we will be penniless by the end of the year. That’s why I work. So we can afford your ridiculous expensive trips, clothes, and furniture.”
“Don’t use me to excuse your obsession with work. You’d rather spend hours in the office than hang out with your son.”
“That’s not true,” Daddy screams, pushing off the counter. His eyes are dark, and he has his hands in fists like mine. I slowly unclench my hands because I’m not angry like him. I’m sad.
A tear leaves my eye, and I quickly start to cry harder.
Why aren’t they hugging?
This isn’t right. People who are together are in love, but my parents never tell each other that.
“It’s time for football.” I try to say through my tears, but my soft voice isn’t loud enough because they continue screaming. They continue hating each other. They continue not seeing me.
I start to cry even harder, and this time, Robert can’t comfort me. He’s in pain as well.
“I’m the one who takes him to school, to the park and on holidays. You don’t do anything.” Her voice hurts my ears, and I put my hands against them, hoping it’ll stop me from hearing them. But it doesn’t. Nothing does.
“That’s because I work for his future. I work for us to have everything, and I do my best, Felice. I do my best.” His voice goes straight through my heart, and I want it to stop.
They need to stop. Tears blur my vision, and I watch them step closer to each other. Fingers pointed at each other as their mouths move quickly.
