The calm before the storm - Sam

Sitting at the dinner table, the weight of the silence pressed down on me like a thousand-pound weight. The walls felt like they were closing in, and I couldn't escape the heavy, suffocating air in the room. My mom and dad were across from me, their eyes locked on me with a mix of disappointment and frustration. My mom had folded her hands neatly in front of her, her posture rigid, as if bracing for a lecture. My dad, on the other hand, sat back in his chair, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might snap. Every inch of their body language screamed that they were about to unleash a storm, and I was the target.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to avoid their gaze, but I knew it wouldn't be long before the storm hit. And sure enough, my dad was the first to break the silence. "So," he said, his voice low and deliberate, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke, "got a call from Mr. Moon today." My stomach twisted into knots. I had begged Mr. Moon not to call my parents, but he'd insisted, claiming it was school policy. In that moment, I realized just how little I could control, how everything I tried to hide was slipping through my fingers.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "I can explain," I said, but my words didn't sound convincing, even to myself.

"Oh, I'd love to hear it." My dad's voice was cold now, sharp with disbelief, and he gestured for me to continue, his eyes never leaving mine. The tension in the room grew thicker with each passing second, and I could feel the heat rising in my chest. I opened my mouth, but no words came out at first. I needed to say something that would make sense, something that would make him understand.

"I just... I needed to check on Jay," I said, my voice faltering slightly. "He wasn't in class, and I was worried."

"That's your excuse?" My dad's voice rose, and I winced at the sharpness of it. "You skipped math class—because you were worried about someone?"

"Yes," I said, my voice growing more firm, though it trembled a little. "He's my friend. He wasn't okay, and I—"

"Friends?" my dad interrupted, his voice rising again, a sneer twisting his lips. "Since when do friends come before school? Before your responsibilities? Do you even realize how this makes you look, Sam? You're the football captain, a swimmer with scholarship potential, and you're skipping class? For what? For some waste of space kid?"

The words stung more than they should have. I could feel my face heating with a mix of anger and humiliation, but I pushed forward, determined to stand my ground. "Jay's not a bad guy," I said, my voice growing louder, more defiant. "This is all because of Kyle—" I started to explain, but before I could finish, my dad cut me off, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

"Really?" My dad stood up abruptly, pacing around the table, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. "Because ever since he started coming around, you've been different. Less focused, more distracted, sneaking off when you should be studying or training. I don't know what's going on with you, Sam, but I don't like it. Maybe you should take a leaf out of Kyle's book. At this rate, he'll be team captain and get the scholarship. Don't think I haven't had the coach ringing in my ear about how bad your football's going."

My heart pounded in my chest, my anger bubbling over. "You don't understand," I said through gritted teeth. "I care about him. And you're not seeing the whole picture." But my words fell flat. My dad wasn't listening anymore. His mind was made up.

My mom finally spoke, her voice soft but no less stern. "Honey, we're just concerned. You have so much potential, and it feels like you're throwing it away. We're not saying you can't have friends, but you need to set priorities. Jay doesn't seem like a good influence right now."

Her words felt like a slap to my face. "He's not a bad influence," I shot back, my voice rising in frustration. "He's a good person, and you don't even know him."

"And we won't," my dad snapped. "Because as of now, you're not seeing him anymore. No more inviting him over. No more hanging out with him after school. End of discussion." The finality in his voice made my stomach churn. He was shutting down everything, cutting off any chance I had to explain myself.

"Nigel—" my mom started, her voice laced with concern, but my dad cut her off immediately, his tone harsh and unyielding.

"No, I'm not having it," he growled. "Unless it's sports or college, it stops. You're grounded."

"You can't do that," I said, standing up from my chair, my fists clenched at my sides. My heart was racing, my breath coming in sharp gasps. "You can't just control everything. You can't control me."

"Oh, yes, we can," my dad snapped, his eyes cold. "You live under our roof, Sam. You follow our rules. And if you can't handle that, maybe you don't need a roof over your head at all."

The words hit me like a physical blow. My vision blurred, and I felt a rush of heat flood my chest. My mom gasped, her eyes wide with shock, but my dad didn't back down. He just stood there, waiting for me to argue back, waiting for me to say something.

"I'm nearly eighteen," I said, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. "You can't control me forever."

"You're right," my dad said, his tone icy, "but until you're out on your own, you'll do as we say. Football, swimming, and school—that's your life." The finality in his words rang through me like a death sentence. All of a sudden, it felt like my entire future was slipping through my fingers, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

"That's not fair," I said, my voice shaking with fury. "You don't know anything about Jay or why I care about him."

"Tough," my dad challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. "Friends are not as important as sports. It's simple. You understand me?"

I froze, the words sticking in my throat. My dad's gaze was unwavering, challenging me to respond, but I couldn't. How could I explain that Jay wasn't just a friend? That he was everything to me? That he was my boyfriend, the one person who made me feel like I could be myself?

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, I just muttered, "Forget it," and stormed upstairs. I didn't even bother to look back. I didn't care about my dinner or anything else. I was done listening to them and I slammed my bedroom door behind me.

My dad shouted from downstairs, telling me to eat my dinner, but I didn't care. I'd rather starve than sit at that table and pretend everything was okay. I couldn't live like this anymore.

In my room, I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow as if it could swallow me whole. The weight of the day pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe. My chest felt tight, and my breaths came in shallow gasps, each one harder than the last. My mind kept racing, spiralling into a sea of thoughts that only made the hurt deeper. I fought back tears, but they felt inevitable, like a flood just waiting to break through the dam I'd built.

Why couldn't I just tell them the truth?

The answer was painfully obvious. They'd never accept it. They were so set in their ways, so determined to control everything in my life, that I knew they wouldn't understand. My dad's words echoed in my mind—"dragging you down," "bad influence." Those words stung, but what really cut deep was imagining what would happen if they knew the whole truth. If they knew that Jay wasn't just a friend—that he was my boyfriend. They already hated the idea of him being around. What would they say if they knew how I really felt about him?

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, my paws trembling uncontrollably as I unlocked it. I opened the chat with Jay, not really knowing what to say, but feeling like I had to say something, anything, to explain.

Me: Hey... I can't meet up Friday anymore.

The three little dots appeared almost immediately, flickering as if Jay was typing his response. But then they disappeared, only to come back again, like he was unsure of what to say. I waited, my heart pounding in my chest.

Jay: Why not? Is everything okay?

I hesitated. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for what felt like an eternity. I couldn't just say it out loud. I couldn't tell him the truth right now, not when it felt like everything around me was falling apart. Finally, I typed:

Me: My parents found out I skipped math. They're mad and... they don't want me seeing you anymore.

I watched the screen, waiting for his response. The seconds dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. And then, finally, his reply came.

Jay: What? Why?

Me: They think you're a bad influence, they are blaming my football and swim results on you, its just a load of bullshit

The message sent, and I stared at the screen, feeling a lump form in my throat. A pause. Then Jay's message appeared.

Jay: I'm sorry Sam, I don't know what to say

Me: They don't know you like I do. They don't understand...

But then, just as quickly as I typed it, I stopped. I couldn't go on like this, not when everything felt so fragile. Instead, I erased the message, feeling the sting of vulnerability as I did.

Me: They just don't get it.

Jay: So... what do we do now?

I stared at the screen, unable to answer for a moment. What could we do? The reality of the situation was sinking in. Meeting at school wasn't an option anymore—not with Kyle and Ben hovering around, watching our every move like they were waiting for us to slip up. And my parents? They'd never let Jay come over again, not after this.

Me: We'll figure it out. Maybe after practice, or... somewhere else.

Jay: Somewhere else like where? The moon?

Despite everything, despite how heavy my heart felt, I let out a small, involuntary laugh. I couldn't help it. It was the first time today that I'd felt anything close to normal, anything that resembled the joy I had when we were together.

Me: I wish. Somewhere nobody can bother us.

Jay: We'll find a way. I'm not going anywhere, I'll come to practice if I have to!

His words, though light-hearted, sent a warmth through me. It was nice to know he wasn't going to give up on me, even when it seemed like everything else was falling apart. But still, that weight in my chest didn't go away. It was still there, pressing down on me, suffocating me.

I set my phone down on the bed, feeling the air in my room close in around me. The soft hum of my desk lamp was the only sound breaking the silence, but it didn't bring me any comfort. I stared at the ceiling, lost in my own thoughts. I wanted to be with Jay. I wanted to tell the world about him, about us. But how could I? Everything was too fragile, like a house of cards that could fall apart with one wrong move.

I wanted to hold his hand in public, to walk down the hall with him and not feel like I was hiding. I wanted to tell my parents, to stand up to them and say that I was happy with Jay, that he wasn't a bad influence, that he made me feel alive. But I couldn't. Not yet. Not when everything felt so uncertain, so on edge.

I just had to hope that, somehow, it would get easier. That eventually, we'd find a way to be together without all this fear hanging over us. But for now, all I could do was hope, even though hope felt like a thin thread that was ready to snap at any moment.

I tried distracting myself by watching some YouTube clips, anything to take my mind off things. But my signal was poor, and the video kept buffering, freezing every few seconds. I sighed, knowing full well that my dad had probably changed the Wi-Fi password after the argument. Typical.

I could have just gave up completely at football, come last in every swim heat, that would show them. But then I realized—if I played badly and lost every heat, it wouldn't matter to anyone. My parents would still be watching me like hawks, waiting for me to fail, and they'd use it as another excuse to keep me from seeing Jay. If I gave up on everything, if I let them win, then I'd be giving up on myself too. But then again, maybe that's exactly what they wanted me to do.

A few hours had passed when I heard a soft knock on my door. It was barely a tap, but it felt like a thunderclap in my ears. I didn't answer. The ache in my chest hadn't lessened at all since I stormed up here, retreating to my room like a coward. I buried my head deeper into my arms, the pillow doing little to muffle the whirlpool of emotions swirling inside me—anger, frustration, fear. All I wanted to do was be alone, but even in the silence, I couldn't escape the storm brewing inside me.

"Sam?" My mom's voice was tentative as the door creaked open. I didn't turn to look at her. The faint scent of grilled cheese drifted in with her, and I heard the quiet clink of a plate being set on my desk. "I made you something to eat."

"Not hungry," I muttered into the pillow.

"You haven't eaten since lunch," she said softly. "At least take a bite."

"I said I'm not hungry," I snapped, sitting up and glaring at her. "Just leave me alone."

Her expression faltered, but she didn't leave. Instead, she sat down on the edge of the bed, clasping her hands together.

"I know your dad was... harsh," she started. "He can come on strong, but he has your best interests at heart. He just wants you to succeed."

"That's a load of crap," I said, my voice rising. "He doesn't care about me. He cares about football, swimming, and his precious image. That's it."

"Sam, that's not fair," she said, her tone pleading.

"Oh, it's not fair?" I shot back, my hands balling into fists. "What's not fair is him blaming Jay for everything. What's not fair is him trying to control my life like I'm some kind of puppet, reliving his own failed swimming goals through me."

My mom sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Sam, he's just trying to protect you. He doesn't want you to make decisions that could hurt your future."

I couldn't hold it in anymore. "Jay is my boyfriend, Mom," I said, my voice trembling but firm. "And nothing Dad says or does is going to stop me from seeing him."

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she didn't say anything. Just as she opened her mouth to respond, I heard heavy footsteps in the hallway. My stomach dropped.

"What did you just say?" My dad's voice was sharp and cold as he appeared in the doorway.

I stood up, meeting his glare. "You heard me."

His face darkened, his fists clenched at his sides. "So, that's what this is about. You've been skipping class, slacking off, sneaking around—all for him?"

"Yes!" I shouted, my anger boiling over. "Because he actually makes me happy, which is more than I can say for you!"

"You're throwing your life away for some—"

"Don't you dare," I interrupted, my voice shaking with fury. "Don't you dare say something like that about him."

My mom stood between us, her hands up as if trying to diffuse a bomb. "Both of you, stop—"

"No, let him talk," I said bitterly, glaring at my dad. "Go ahead. Say what you really think."

"You're being ridiculous," my dad said through gritted teeth. "This isn't who you are. You're confused, and you're letting this... phase ruin everything we've worked for."

"Who I am?" I laughed bitterly, my voice breaking. "You don't even know me. All you care about is how I make you look in front of your sad pathetic old swim mates. Well, guess what? I don't care what you think anymore. I hate you!"

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. My dad's face twisted with anger, but I didn't stick around to see what he would say next. I shoved past him, grabbing my jacket and slamming the front door behind me.

The cool air hit me as I wandered into the park, but it did little to calm me. My mind replayed the argument over and over, each word cutting deeper than the last.

"I hate you."

Did I mean it? At that moment, I thought I did. But now... now I didn't know. All I knew was that I felt trapped, torn between the life my parents wanted for me and the life I wanted for myself.

I sank onto a bench, staring at the empty swings swaying gently in the breeze. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see my mom's name on the screen. I let it ring until it stopped.

A minute later, it buzzed again.

This time, I answered. "What?"

"Sam," she said, her voice shaky. "Please come home."

"Is Dad still there?" I asked flatly.

There was a pause, and that was all the answer I needed. I hung up.

The phone buzzed again some moments later.

"Sam, please," my mom's voice was more urgent now, almost breaking. "Your dad... he's gone to stay with your uncle for a few days. He just needs time to cool off. I'm so sorry, honey. I should have stood up for you more. Please come home. We'll talk. Just you and me."

I stared at the screen for a long moment, her words echoing in my head.

"I'm sorry."

It wasn't much, but it was something.

Finally as the cold was biting into my fur, and realising I hadn't worn anything warm enough for the cold weather to stay out much longer, I sighed and stood, my legs heavy as I made my way back home.