continued … By the time i slid between the sheets I had already pushed the incident out of my mind. I shrugged my shoulders telling myself this was something typical of parents or adults and drifted off to sleep.
Though I didn’t know it at the time, pulling the sheets over my head, hiding under the sheets, was a symbolic act meaning that I had taken myself into ‘denial land’.
I didn’t know that my dad and June had been seeing each other off the radar for weeks. If i did, I didn’t know what they were doing.
What I DID see were the ugly looks my mom gave him and his feigned attempts to act nonchalant. Even I could tell he was acting strangely talking incessantly about events that happened during the day as if he were enlightening us.
Then one day I walked into the kitchen that day while my mom was breaking all of our dishes on the kitchen floor, calling my dad a son of a bitch, while he calmly stirred the spaghetti sauce.
I walked through the kitchen and kept on going like i had tunnel vision for “out of the room”.
By the time dinner was served the floor had been swept. They were civilized toward each other. The spaghetti sauce was good. All of our roles were very well established.
But, there was still an undercurrent of ugliness, quiet hostility … mostly coming from my mom, that lasted until the tragedy when we richoched off of the walls of time and life was never the same.
Later, like any normal family, we’d gather in the den to eat popcorn or have a bowl of ice cream while watching t.v., like nothing had happened. At nine o’clock I’d kiss them both good night like I always did and go to bed.