A Foreshadowing Event

I will never forget the countless evenings my sister and I spent on the front step of our old house on Knowles Road. We would sit out there, usually with our hands over our ears, because Mom and Dad were fighting, again. One of us would begin to cry and the other would join in with the tears instead of focusing on what our parents were fighting about. There was this one time, though, that we refused to go out on that cement step. It was the first time I really understood what it was to regret. After experiencing one of their arguments for the first time, I never thought twice about sitting with my hands cupped over my tiny ears on that rough, cement stoop.

Our washing machine had broken and Mom called someone to come over and fix it. After she hung up the phone, Dad expressed his anger about something I cannot remember. Mom quickly walked up to him until she was only a foot away from his face and began yelling. Her nose turned bright red, as it does when she is very upset and angry, and she let out her rage. The fight had begun and it was my sister and my cue to go outside. Instead, we sat side-by-side on the bottom step of our staircase, only one room away from the quarrel. I didn't cover my ears or even cry, but took in all of the raw words slowly eating away at my sanity.

Twenty minutes later, the argument had escaleded and I could hear Mom's sobs through her words. Also, they had each come around the corner of the kitchen atleast 10 times and quickly asked Kristen and I to go to our rooms or outside. Without saying, "no" or moving a single muscle, my sister and I would sit silently, still staring at the wood floor. Before long, there was a hard knock on the front door. The knock forced my first movement since I sat down on the uncomfortable step. Mom, with more than just a red nose but also red puffy eyes, let the mechanic inside. He seemed disturbed by what he saw. My Dad was standing in the kitchen with clenched fists, my sister and I were still sitting on the steps with blank faces and my Mom was slowly walking him to the laundry room. He got to work without a question asked or word spoken.

To my disbelief, they continued to argue in the kitchen. Mom had thrown something, which I assumed was a book of some sort, and Dad continued raising his deep voice. I looked down at my feet and noticed that my legs were shaking. I had not shown the slightest bit of emotion, but it was apparent that I was filled to the brim with fear. Mom ran out of the kitchen and parted Kristen and I as she quickly ran up to her bedroom. I was scared to go into her room but moved a few more steps up the staircase so I could try and make out some of her mumbling. Kristen then stood up, reminding me she was even sitting next to me, and walked into Mom's room. I followed behind her and saw my Mom stuffing clothes into a large, leather suitcase. She looked at us with sad eyes and asked us to go into our rooms for what seemed to be the eightieth time that night. When we refused she angrily said, "Go to your room, girls." And so we listened.

We sat on our beds, listening to them still yelling although they were now on different floors. The arguing died down, the mechanic had left, and I thought that the fight was over. I wished that when I opened my bedroom door I would see my parents hugging in the hallway, apologizing to each other. I wanted to hear my Dad tell my Mom he loved her and help her unpack the suitcase she had frantically packed. I slowly opened my door, the only sound being the creak of dry hinges. I saw Mom dragging the huge suitcase down the stairs. I leaped at her and tugged on her arm saying, "Mom, where are you going? You can't leave!" She opened her tear-filled eyes, looked down at me and said, "I have to."

I felt a warm stream go over my cheekbone, into the crevice of my nose, over my quivering lips and down off my chin. Finally, I had shown a glimpse of what I was feeling on the inside. I begged her not to go, all the way out to the cement step. She quickly got in her car and I stood on the front step until I saw the lights of her car turn right at the stop sign and knew she was really gone. I sat down on the cement step, which was now where I knew I had belonged that night.