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Dad sauntered over, his eyes were bloodshot, and the wrinkles on his head seemed more pronounced. He pointed his beer at me. A little bit sloshed over the edge and landed on my arm. “I drink because I can’t stand to listen to your mom when I come home. That’s why.”
“Then don’t come home,” I said. It made sense to me. If he wasn’t happy there, he should just leave.
Mom didn’t like what I said. She pulled me even tighter against her and shushed me again. “He didn’t mean that, Tom. He’s just a kid.”
Dad slumped into a chair and took a swig of his drink. “Maybe the kid makes sense. I could just not come home. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
Mom shook her head. “No. I love having you here. Leo is just eight. He’s curious about the world.”
“Then you need to make him uncurious.” He looked at the TV and sneered. “What the fuck is this?” He ripped the remote out of Mom’s hands and changed the channel to a football game. “None of that stupid kid shit.”
“I was watching that,” I said, reaching over to grab the remote, but Dad held it just out of reach.
“I’m the man of this house. I get to choose what we watch. Now, be quiet.”
I probably should have listened to him, but I was tired of him always bossing me around. So, I stood up and stared him down. “No.”
Dad huffed, looking at me with amusement and something darker simmering behind his eyes. “What did you say to me?”
“I said—”
“Nothing,” Mom cut me off, grabbing my hand. “He said nothing, Tom. I’m going to take him to bed.”
“But I’m not tired,” I muttered.
“Yes, you are,” she said, already dragging me down the hallway.
“Mom, what’s going on?” I asked once we were in my bedroom. She pulled out pajamas and tossed them at me.
“Nothing, honey. Just … go to bed, ok?” It was in that moment I saw how tired she was.
I wrapped my arms around her waist. After a moment, she hugged me back. In these quiet moments between us, I believed everything would be all right.
That was … until my mom left me in my room to go back out to the living room with my dad. Everything was quiet for a while. The only sound the murmuring of the TV.
Then I heard a crash.
I ran back into the living room to see my mom lying on the ground where the glass coffee table used to be. The rim of the coffee table was still there, but the glass was shattered. Mom had a ton of tiny cuts all over her face and arms.
“Mom!” I screamed, rushing over to her.
She blinked up at me. “Leo, you should be in bed.” Her voice was strained and rough. I tried helping her up, but she wasn’t moving.
I turned to my dad, who was watching everything with a small smile on his face. I wanted to hurt him. So, I shoved my hands as hard as I could in his stomach. He didn’t move an inch.
“You think you’re a tough guy?” he asked, shoving me back. I stumbled. “Go on. Help her, then. Not that she deserves it.”
“Why do you have to be so mean?” I screamed, tears streaming down my face.
His eyes flashed. “Why does she have to be such a bitch? Always bossing me around. Nagging. Telling me what to do. You want to help her? Help her.” He scoffed and settled back into his chair.
Mom was struggling to get up, so I used as much of my strength as I possessed to help her stand. Together, we limped to the bathroom, where she tended to her cuts. None of the larger glass shards had hurt her.
“Are you ok?” I whispered as she bandaged her cuts, wincing along the way.
Her eyes met mine through the mirror. “I’ll be ok. You were there to help me.” Her gaze darkened as she looked away. “Though, you shouldn’t have been. You should never have been in that position in the first place. I’m sorry.” Her voice came out as a sob as her shoulders began shaking.
“It’s ok, Mom.” I hugged her from behind.
