1 Aliah

The chill of an autumn melding swiftly into winter filtered through the thin jean-jacket I wore with an ease I hadn't anticipated when I'd first left the house hours before. But then I hadn't know that the fight between my parents would last this long either, much longer than they usually did. But nowadays they came more frequently and were triggered by the tiniest things. I think this one had started because of the way my mom had taken the keys out of my dad's hands when he'd handed them to her, with enough force that it had incited his temper. Ridiculous but that was the way things had been for almost as long as I could remember.

Raised voices could be heard even through our home's closed door, the angry tones making me flinch in response every time one yell was particularly loud. Another breeze blew by and I shivered involuntarily, shooting another longing look at our brownstone. The large brick structure used to make me feel welcome and happy, but the longer we stayed in Trenton, the more my parents seemed to fight. Maybe the move had been a bad idea but I wasn't allowed to speak my mind; my parent's favorite saying was that children should be seen and not heard any time I had an opinion.

The cold stone steps I sat on jutted out from the house some distance and I hopped off of it despite my mom's warning not to go too far into the street that was barely two feet away. Cars drove by quickly and without a care in this area, but I was bored and I wanted to look around the neighborhood. I wouldn't go too far away but I had to remove myself from the noise.

I hadn't gone more than halfway down the street when I saw multiple girls my age walking past, their high pitched giggles making me envious. I'd had friends too back in Atlanta, but the girls here made fun of my accent. They said I was country and made it clear that even though we all rode the school bus home together, I wasn't a welcome member to their group.

I lowered my head down as they went past, the multitude of plaits on my head managing to cover my face well. They smelled faintly of the pink lotion my mom used to keep them moisturized and the ends were held together by multicolored barrettes. I was starting fifth grade next year and I had been begging my mom to let me get the long braids that I saw the other girls in my class wearing, the brightly colored beads on the ends especially tantalizing.

My mom was unwilling though; she never hesitated to tell me that my hair was beautiful on its own. It made me unique. But I didn't want to be unique, I wanted to be like everyone else for once. I didn't meet the standards set by the kids in school and I knew by my own admission that I didn't exactly look cool. Last year I'd gotten glasses and the cheetah patterned frames had looked great to me until a boy in class had called me ugly. No, I thought, I stuck out enough.

My block was lined with trees on both sides, the large oaks casting huge shadows on the walkways below. Dappled sunlight filtered in through the gaps and the cool fall breeze was even colder when it blew in through the leaves. I kept walking down the street, eager to get to the small ten-cent store that stood on the corner. I had change in my pocket, maybe enough to buy a bag of hot fries and some candy.

I pressed my hands deeper into my pockets and walked quickly, wanting to get back home after getting my snacks as soon as possible. Anticipating the spicy taste of the crispy snack and the sweets I would indulge in, I spent a long time going through each row in the cramped store, the young girl managing the counter ignoring me in favor of a magazine. After I was finally done and I'd made my purchases, I ate my way through a bag of Skittles quickly as I walked back home; I didn't know how long I'd spent outside and I didn't want to get in trouble for being gone too long.

I heard my Mom's voice from inside the house, and somehow she sounded even more upset than when I'd left earlier. Inside there was a distant crash, but just as quickly as the noise had come it was gone and the silence after seemed heavier somehow. I wondered what had happened, if this blow-up between the two of them would ever stop. I thought of the shows on TV, where everyone seemed happy together, those families and parents managing to get along better than mine had ever done even on our best days. Perhaps there was something wrong with us, something that prevented us from having that peace. On good days, if they didn't want me to hear their arguing, they spoke in harsh whispers and tried to make the least amount of noise possible. My parents thought I didn't know about these whispered fights, but sometimes at night I could hear them in the next room. These fights made me nervous and annoyed in turns, although I couldn't explain why.

I had long finished my food when I heard another loud smash come from inside the house. Heart pounding an erratic beat, I got up from where I sat and peeked through the screen door, trying my hardest to see inside without getting caught. As I was trying to push the door open without making any noise, my father came stomping towards the door. I quickly got out of the way and sat back down on the steps, trying my best to look innocent. By the time he had fully stepped outside, I was sitting down and looking like I'd never moved. I turned back towards him as if I was surprised, but his eyes moved over me as if I wasn't there.

"'Lia, why don't you go inside with your mama, huh?" My dad's gruff voice commanded rather than truly asking. The sound of it was distorted to my ears, the words off somehow.

"What was that noise daddy, I thought I heard something break?" I had already gotten up, wanting to know what had happened warring with my need to figure out what was wrong with him.

"Don't worry about all that, your mama needs you in there. Go on, I'll be back later." My dad headed to his car, the dark green Neon flashing brightly as he opened the door.

"But where are you going?" I asked, feeling uncomfortable.

"Girl, are you gonna keep asking questions or are you gonna do what I said?" His patience and tolerance to back talk had always been short, my dad hated having to repeat himself.

"Yes daddy, I'm going."

Still feeling suspicious, I did what I was told like an obedient child and walked back inside the house. I was immediately warmed by the heat circulating in our open foyer and I looked back outside, watched as my dad started up his car and left without even looking back. I sighed and went to go find mom, wondering if she was going to be mad at me too. I found her in the dining room and she was on her hands and knees, sweeping up a multitude of small pieces of glass off the floor. The colorless pieces were at times falling into the small cracks in between the wooden floorboards, but she picked up each one carefully, her hands shaking slightly.

"Mama, what happened to your birds?" I questioned her slowly, already knowing the answer. The glass birds had been a gift to her from my grandmother, one of the things she had treasured and carefully packed when we'd moved to the north. Grandma had died a year ago and sometimes I would catch my mom running her hands over the delicate objects, her gaze distant. The real question was, had their destruction been an accident.

"Don't worry baby, just some glass. I got it all cleaned up." My mom sniffled lightly as she cleaned and a shock went through me. I could see small pieces of wings and little bodies in the broken shards and I felt my heart clench in my chest.

"Oh…Daddy said you needed me, did you want help?" If she didn't want to tell me, then I wouldn't push it, she often needed time alone after these large fights.

"No baby," my mom said putting down the broom and dustpan she was holding, "I was just missing your pretty face. Come give me a hug?"

"Okay, sure mama." Genuine surprise hit me like a bullet; my mom was loving but she wasn't big on affectionate touches, her hugs had always been rare. Her asking for a hug was huge, but I didn't resist as she held me close, feeling my own heart settle.

I came awake from my dream with a start, the room around me cloaked in darkness. A sick feeling resided deep in the pit of my stomach, my chest aching with emotion and unshed tears. Sweat had made my nightgown stick to my body and I was panting slightly, as if I had gone for a run around my home's small block. I looked around my room, trying to remember, and my gaze fell onto the slightly smaller body lying next to me. I jumped in surprise and then quickly remembered that my sister was with me, here to spend the night. I knew then that this was my reality and the details of my dream came slowly back to me.

This time, I felt the same sharp pain hit my chest as if I was still that eleven-year old kid, still trying to fit in, trying to act as if my family was normal. It hadn't worked back then and it didn't work now, the memories just as painful as the actual events. And now on the eve of the biggest change of my life, the fear they had seeded in my heart spilled over into my dreams. It shouldn't have been surprising, I had always struggled with change, but this time it was wholly necessary, an inescapable feeling of just needing to start over. Nausea crept bitterly into my stomach and I wished that this particular memory had stayed forgotten. I wished even more that Daddy had never left us, but what I missed the most was how my mom had been back then, how full of life she had seemed. Although she was still a generally happy person, my mom had never been the same after the divorce and even now I could still see the lines of tension on her face whenever my dad was mentioned. The uncertainties of that day, the strained feelings of my parents after our move and that change had been the inciting incident behind it all was causing my heart to beat faster as I thought of the implications. What would've happened if things had been different?

I glanced blearily at my phone and checked the time. Four a.m. and I had to be on a plane at 9. There was no time to psychoanalyze myself, no time to figure out my issues. Korea was waiting for me, hopefully with a new life and new possibilities. I wondered if I had enough time to dream again, to experience happy things as I slipped back into unconsciousness.