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They fought. It was as simple, yet complicated as that. His children didn’t mind. Hell, his daughter threw herself in at times to act as their counselor. They never noticed. Too lost in their world of denial and lust. Until it began to turn into something more. No one thought they would end up getting married, running away, then coming back again. Then repeating the entire process over before finally settling down. He bought a large house that had belonged to an elderly lady whose husband had died. She had no need for the large house and her daughter wanted her to move somewhere where she would be safe. She had apparently fallen down the stairs many times. He jumped at the chance and everyone could see the look in his eye. Happiness, he believed, was not far away. At the time, they had been “separated”. Something as simple as a hard past had caused her to go into a fit of rage when he came home late one night. She accused him of cheating on her and he knew that she knew he was working late to help get the mortgage in for the place they recently lived in, plus the money for their growing stack of bills. But she was blinded by her dated issues. None of the men in her life had given her a chance to love. Her father had abandoned her. Her stepfather had been an abusive alcoholic who argued with her mother constantly. Most of her boyfriends had either used her or abused her, whether it be verbally or physically. He didn’t know what to do, but he also knew he wouldn’t sit back and watch her yell at him for something that obviously wasn’t going on. So he fought back and the fight eventually turned into a scream fest until the neighbors called the cops. Both had bruises on their bodies. He moved out and into a small studio across town. His children didn’t know what was going on until they found out the day she got her wedding ring. They were married. A ten minute ceremony for ten dollars. Simple and to the point. His son had sat back and received the news gracefully while his daughter took the road to insanity, not able to believe that someone whom her father had bitched and moaned about had actually gotten married to said person, and all behind their backs. They all moved into the house. His children weren’t over much due to the custody battle he was waging with his ex- wife. Things were going well, everyone got along. If they got into a fight, they would go their separate ways until they calmed down enough to talk rationally about it. But that’s not how it always went behind closed doors, and mostly everyone knew it, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. That’s how it started that night. Things were happy. The family had rented a DVD and were watching the TV screen, transfixed by the events. Until the end, which seemed to disappoint them. They had dogs. Who doesn’t when living in a large house full of lots of people? You need that last piece of the puzzle to make it all seem nice and perfect. The puppy was being a nuisance again and he was getting pissed. “I can’t fucking wait until you’re not a fucking puppy,” he said loudly while watching another movie, causing her to roll her eyes and snap at him to shut up. He turned to glare at her. She glared back. Neither were afraid of the other. What reason to be? The little money they had left to spend was being used to go on their honeymoon, while the majority of it went to their bills. His bad credit was slowly being fixed while her excess spending was being paid off. What reason did they had to even be mad at each other? Nothing. But tempers flared, his daughter rolled her eyes while his son remained neutral. “Then let’s get rid of the fucking thing,” he snapped, literally tossing the dog at her. She caught him. “Don’t throw him!” she yelled, settling back down, holding the little puppy in her arms. He glared at her and said, “Fuck it. I don’t care anymore.” She rolled her eyes. They continued watching the movie. Until the phone rang. She grabbed it, answered. It was the bank and they needed to go in and fix their new checking account that had been having problems since she had taken his last name. Everything needed to be done so quickly. Ten minutes later, she simply stood and left while everyone else watched the movie. She went up to their bedroom and watched TV in there. As the movie ended, he talked about how intensely bizarre it was, discussing it with his daughter while his son seemed to be rising from a small nap. Everyone sat for a while until he went up to go the bathroom. They started arguing. His daughter put in another DVD, from a funny TV show, and watched it, ignoring the sound of her brother downstairs blaring loud music, ignoring the fact that they had to work outside the next day, shoveling rock to help clean the front yard for it’s remodeling in the hundred degree weather. She ignored the semi-loud voices coming from upstairs. He came back out, sitting on the couch. “I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” “This one?” his daughter asks. “Yeah.” “Why?” “Because Buffy’s sick. I don’t want to get sick.” His daughter doesn’t know if she believes him, but goes along anyway. They sit together, laughing at the screen. He suddenly gets up and enters the kitchen. “Want to share some ice cream?” His daughter contemplates it, knowing that her father had been getting on her to workout and be healthy because she wasn’t exactly what one would call thin, but suddenly not giving a damn. It’s her body, she decides, and yells back her consent. She gets up to see what he’s doing and get a bowl for herself when he leaves and almost bumps into her, scaring her. He has a plate with an ice cream box and two spoons. They sit back down together and eat, watching the screen and laughing at the main character. His son soon comes up and she has finished eating and he says that his son can’t have any ice cream. What sounds like a joke to his daughter’s ears could possibly hit closer to home with her brother. A few more bites and a new episode later, they’re still sitting when they look up to see her entering the bathroom, the one she uses because he gets the master bathroom. They turn back to the TV and he leans forward to eat some more when she finally leaves the bathroom, looking slightly refreshed. She looks down and sees the ice cream box. She’s too far away to read her expression. “Is that my ice cream?” she demands. He laughs. “Yes. Don’t want it to melt.” She seems mad and annoyed at the same time. “Ass.” His daughter once again wonders if she is really sick or if they were arguing. Most likely the latter. Fin l be kind, rewind l back to top l
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