Fourteen

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"I hope he never comes back." I scoff at the mention of my dad.  I try to refocus on the book I'm reading but my mom's voice interrupts the attempt.

"Listen...I understand that you aren't a huge fan of your papá but please try to be nice." She takes the seat opposite of me at the dining room table.

I want to tell her. I want to tell her that I know. I want to show her the bruise on my stomach. I want to tell her that I've seen a lot more than she knows. I want to tell her that he makes me want to jump off of a fucking cliff.

Except I won't. As I let my mouth go ajar a little to let out everything I have to say, the words get lodged in my throat.

If I speak about it I'll start crying.

Some situations are touchy. My father situation is one of them. For years I've stayed quite. I've left it alone, praying that things will get better through time.

The subject of my dad is something my mother and I never discuss. For a long time I've been telling myself that we will talk about it one day. We will come up with a plan to get my dad out of our lives.

Except in a way I don't think she wants that. I see the love leaking out of her eyes when she sees him. She doesn't see the empty bottle in his hand, or the way he barely responds when she asks him how his day was.

My father has cheated on my mother, several times. He still does. She thinks I don't know that, but I do. My mom is a very forgiving person. She forgave my father for the cheating. Knowing her she probably thought "everyone desvenes a second chance" or "it was only a mistake". I feel like in a way she knows that he is still does it, except she doesn't want to believe it. She wants to believe that her husband is faithful. Even though he is nothing of the sort.

She has a - what some may refer to - as an "older" mindset, when it comes to relationships and marriage.  I truthfully don't think that she knows what a heathy relationship is supposed to look like.

I can tell that she is aware of the small bruises he accidentally gives her. She only wears long sleeves and long pants. Except she doesn't say anything about it.

With the way my mother thinks she probably believes, "oh but it was just an accident, sure he hasn't treated me the best in the past, but he's changed". I don't think she wants to accept it.

I don't know how every aspect of abusive relationships work. For a long time I didn't understand why my mother just stood by my father, letting him treat her like shit. I was mad that she did and still does nothing.

My mom has been roped up with my dad for a long time.

They came to this country together, by themselves.  They have no one else.

Dad wasn't always like this. I still cherish the memories I have from when he wasn't a shitty person, when he wasn't a mean drunk. Except people change.

Especially when alcohol is involved.

My father chose alcohol over his family. He was once a loving man, who kissed his kids on the forehead before bed every night.

Mom tried to get him help once for it a long time ago.  She gained a new bruise that day.

A big reason why I believe my mother hasn't left him is because she is in love with the man she married. She is in love with who he used to be.

I wish she could just let that version of him go. That is not him anymore. It hasn't been for a long time.

She needs to let go.

Except I'm aware that it is much harder than it sounds. Especially when they are the father to your kids, and the person who you fell madly in love with at a very young age, and the first person to ever show you any sort of affection.

In a way, I also think there is a level of insecurity and lack of self worth that also influences the situation.  She thinks she doesn't deserve better.

Throughout the years I've taken notice of all the small comments my mother makes about her body. I see the way she looks in the mirror, hating the way her hips are too wide, the way her butt is too big. Or the way her hair has greyed a little over the years.

The snarky comments my father makes doesn't help her view of herself either.

I tell her that I think she is beautiful. She usually just nods with a smile and says thank you. Except the smile never reaches her eyes. I can tell that she doesn't believe me, that she doesn't think it's a genuine compliment.

My parents don't know it, but they both taught me valuable lessons.

One: never let a toxic man treat you like shit just because you love him.

Two: you are so much more than just the words people claim you to be.

Breaking out of my train of thought I look back up to my mom.

Her eyes droop down, they hold so much emotion. So much blatant pain and dejection.

Placing the bookmark in the book I gently close it as I sigh escapes my lips.

"Ma...I don't owe that man mierda. And neither do you." My voice quivers a little, almost going unnoticeable. (Translation: Shit.)

She looks taken back by my cursing. Except she stays quiet, and averts her eyes to look at her thin hands which rest on the table.

I continue, "You deserve so much more than him, and I hope one day you will be able to see that."

She stays quiet.

Without another word I stand up from the table and grab my book. Turning around I push my chair in and head to my room.

The house is silent. Camila and Mateo are still in school.

I just got home from school about twenty minutes ago.

Except I need to leave and get some fresh air. Thoughts of dad still swarm my head, and I simply want to just distract myself.

Snatching the green sweater from my bed I shove my arms through the soft thick sleeves and also grab my phone.

After shutting off the light I calmly close the door and walk back into the dining room.  Light is streaming through the window behind her, illuminating the natural copper highlights throughout her dark brown curly hair.

Mom is still sitting there, staring at the wall ahead as she ponders about something, twisting the ring on her finger.

"I'm gonna head to the bookstore, if you need me, call me." Her gaze meets mine and she watches my movements for a second before nodding.

I nod back, then turn to the front door and head outside.

A rainy Thursday afternoon.

I can't help but feel a spark of joy.

I'm so excited for the movie night at Levina's tomorrow.

As long as my dad won't be home, I'll be good to go.

The rain is light, creating a gloomy mist through the air.  The sky is all the same shade of grey.  It's a little humid, but the air contains a slight chill.  The atmosphere reminds me of Owen's eyes.

I step in dirty puddles as I walk to the bookstore.  It's only about a ten minute walk.  I quite enjoy the time.  It's relaxing, letting me clear my head.

The little bell above the door lowly rings as I push the wooden slab open.

Not many people are here today.  Only a few are scattered about through the isles of books, leaning against bookshelves quietly reading.

They're probably trying to find a form of peace through books.  Reading is an escape from thoughts.  It helps you inject yourself into a different world.

"Hello Mrs. Harp!" The old woman looks up from her computer, acknowledging my presence.  She then turns back and continues her typing.

That's her way of saying hello.  I smile at the rude but "sweet in her own way" kind of gesture.

I scan the rows of books, wondering which ones I should add to my collection.

As I walk past the aisles of bookcases I see a familiar figure scanning the pages of a book.

Owen.

It takes everything in me not to run up to him and pinch his cheek.

An idea comes to my mind.  Since it's October - aka spooky season - I'll scare him.

Quietly, I walk into the aisle, sneaking up behind him.

He still doesn't seem to have noticed me, intently looking down at the thick book.

"Hi friend." I say in a whisper while quickly resting my head on his shoulder.

A small gasp escapes from his lips and I see his eyes open on shock. He jumps away from me and the book shuts loudly in his hand.

"Luna? What the fuck? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" His breaths are heavy as he clutches his chest.

"If you want I can sneak up on you more often to try." I shrug and start looking at all the full shelves.

"Are you stalking me or something? How do you always manage to show up everywhere?" He takes a step closer to me. He is now standing beside me as he reopens the book, flipping through the pages to where he last was.

"I'm not stalking you, I just wanted to come to the bookstore. You know...Owen you really like to read, and so do I, so how come I hadn't seen you here until a few weeks ago? I'm here all the time how did I miss you?" I scratch the top of my head.

He glances at me before returning his gaze back to his book. "I used to mainly just come before they'd close and get the book I wanted."

"Ohhh..."

He hums in response.

"Owen." I say his name after a few seconds, dragging the 'n'.

"Luna." He drags out the 'a'.

"Did you hear about the school trip to New York?" If him and Levina are going then I definitely want to go.

Placing a bookmark in the book, he closes it shut and brings it down to his side.

Looking up my eyes meet his grey ones.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna go.  Are you?" He tilts his head to the side.

A small laugh leaves my throat.

He continues, "Why are you laughing at me?"

Another giggle escapes my mouth and a bright smile makes its way onto my face.  "You look cute when you tilt your head." I laugh again, not looking away from his silvery eyes.

His eyes go wide and he looks away, tilting his head down, the fluffy waves of his hair not letting me see his eyes.

He shakes his head and looks back up, a rosy blush is spread across his cheeks and nose.  And the tips of his ears are also pink.

Now he looks even cuter.

"Aw Owen, did I make you blush?" I playfully hit his shoulder with my fist.

"You flirt so much and you don't even realize it." He chuckles a little and shakes his head.

My face drops.

"I don't flirt." I throw my hands up to show my confusion.

"Yes you do." Our eyes connect again, my eyebrows are pinched together.

I do not flirt.  I think I would know if I was.

"I. Do. Not." I say pronunciating each word clearly.  "I am simply just giving my friend a compliment."

"Whatever you wanna believe, inconsciente." An expression of defeat falls onto his face.

"What does that mean?" Now I'm confused.

"It means oblivious.  Since you are oblivious to your own actions." He makes eye contact with me as he leans against the bookcase behind him.

"I am not oblivious.  You know what, whatever." I throw my hands up in defeat.

A soft husky laugh comes from him.

"But yeah, I wanna go on the trip.  I've only been to New York a few times and I loved it.  Except it would be so much more fun if I could go with you and Levina." We live in an area of Connecticut pretty close to New York.  Only about a half hour drive.

"How much does it cost to go?" He looks up from his book.

"Um...I think like fifty bucks or something like that." I begin popping the corner of my phone case off my phone over and over again as I speak.

He nods.

Looking at the time my face drops.  "I gotta get home dude.  See you mañana.  I'm so excited to hang out with you guys." Before he could even think about objecting I throw my arms around him and squeeze tightly.

A second later he automatically wraps an arm around my waist.  His body is stiff.

"Losen up, it feels like I'm hugging a piece of drywall." I announce while resting my chin on his shoulder.

He clears his throat, "I don't really hug people a lot." I can feel the vibration of his voice run down my spine.

"Well...you'll get used to it.  I love hugs!" I squeeze him tighter.

"Okay you're suffocating me now." He pats my back with his hand.

"Well then just breath.  Like Ariana Grande says, Just keep breathin' and breathin'." I attempt to sing but end up sounding horrible.  I have zero singing skills.  Even when just speaking sometimes, my voice cracks as if I'm a twelve year old boy going through puberty.

A laugh echos through my ears.

I made him laugh. A genuine laugh.

I really like his laugh.  It's makes an automatic smile tug at the corner of my lips.

"Move, you're in my way." Mrs. Harp's voice breaks the second of silence.  "And no canoodling in my store." She adds while looking the two of us up and down.

Since when did she get here?  I pull away from the hug.

And who the fuck still says canoodling?

I see Owen's face heat up from the comment, his eyes dart around nervously.  My eyes widen.

"We were just hugging, no uh- canoodling going on here." I look everywhere but Owen.

She gives me a "stop bullshitting me" look and hums in response, looking at me suspiciously.

Owen and I canoodling?

Very inappropriate thoughts starts to cloud my vision, but I quickly redirect my focus to the short old plump lady in front of me.

A cart of books on wheels stands behind her.

"Anyways uh- sorry Mrs. Harp!  We'll go now." Before Owen could say anything I grab his wrist and drag him away to another isle.

"She's mean." He whispers glancing back to where we just were.

"Oh shut up.  You're mean too." I accusingly point my finger at him.

"Yeah, but I guess I could say you kind of grew on me.  So I'm not mean anymore.  I don't think I'm a mean person.  I just tend to come off a little...uh- standoff-ish?" He scratches his head in thought.

I hum in response while playfully rolling my eyes.  "Ya think?"

"Well I'll see you tomorrow.  Adiós mi mejor amigo." I hug him once again.

I think hugging him is becoming one of my new favorite things.

He wastes no time in hugging me back.  Except a second later I pull away and smile up at him.

Turning away I begin skipping down the isle.

"Why are you skipping?" I glance back at him, a look of confusion attains his face.

"Because bad bitches skip." I stick up my middle finger at him and then continue to skip away.

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