10. Crashing

When my mother heard the about the planned trip to Las Vegas, well, she barely seemed to hear. We are sitting around the living room with Joe and Aiden trying to get her attention, but she’s too busy poring over a new script to notice their not-so-subtle coughing. Her agent, Dylan, keeps calling her every hour or so. Even on Christmas Day, we barely saw her until the guests started arriving.

"So I heard that they’re aliens on an intergalactic mission to clean the world," Talise remarks conversationally. I choke, Joe glares at his daughter, and Aiden snickers.

"That’s great, Kyla," my mother responds, obviously distracted.

"I’m over here, Mom," Kyla snaps. Lines of thwarted love are etched permanently onto her face these days. She nearly murdered Waldo for saying "Have a nice night!" to Aiden before he left to take Spencer on another date.

"Okay," my mother murmurs absently.

"So can we go or not?" Aiden demands eagerly.

"Sure, dear."

"Sweet!" Aiden leaps to his feet.

"Sit down," Joe reprimands before turning on his wife. "Christine, can you put that down for a second." Irritation colors his voice.

"Just a moment."

Joe sighs, "This will only take a moment."

"Mm-hmm."

Admitting defeat, Joe turns up the volume on the TV. "We’ll talk about this in the morning."

With a roll of the eyes, Talise pushes herself off the couch. "Good night," she announces to no one in particular.

Silently, I follow her. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aiden giving me a weird look. Maybe he’s tired or something.

We climb the seemingly endless flights of steps to the attic. Halfway to the third floor, we hear shouting.

"I don’t…" Joe’s voice trails off.

"You’re so selfish…always doing…" It sounds like he and my mother are arguing. Why? Well, a better question for those two would be: Why not?

Talise’s knuckles go white on the railing. Everything our "parents"  irks her since school started.  "Why the hell did they get married if all they do is fight?"

I look at her, surprised by the sudden outburst. Every year or so, my mother and Joe have a period where they can’t stand the sight of each other. It’s my belief that this period of hatred counteracts the rest of their usual sappy, soppy, dripping-with-overwrought-emotion marriage. There’s nothing new. Unsure of what she wants me to say, I answer, "Why does anyone get married?"