The Talk... No Not That Talk

I drop my bag at the bottom of the stairs in utter exhaustion. As soon as my feet touched the stairs, I started stripping. Each item of clothing, scattered along the staircase, leaving me to enter my room in only my underwear. I've been told many times to stop doing that and I'm pushing my mom too far, because I keep doing it... I don't do it as much as I used to and that's all that matters. I need a day off.

Making my way over to my closet, I went in and got one of my dad's huge shirts and basketball shorts and pulled them on.

I have a collection of them. My dad used to make me walk around in his shirts when I was a kid because he was too lazy to dress me in my own clothes. I remember how excited I used to get when he would throw a shirt at me after he gave me a bath when I was three and I would run all around the house, the bottom of his shirt dragging on the floor and hanging very loosely on my tiny body. I don't know how I even remember but it's something that stuck with me.

I'd run until I tripped on the same shirt I was wearing, laugh, then get up and start running again. Sometimes I'd trip down the stairs and get only a sprain here and there but that never stopped me from doing it again. It did hurt a lot. I personally think my dad liked to see me make a fool out of myself, because he'd always watch me with the biggest grin on his face and then I'd run up to him and pucker my lips and he'd chuckle then lean down to kiss me and I'd be back to running.

I miss those days. I always smile when I look back at them. I always pick out one of my dad's shirts to wear whenever I'm feeling nostalgic and right now, I'm feeling pretty nostalgic.

Me being me, my radio was still on because I sleep with it on on a low volume. Right now some upbeat song was playing, so I made my way over to it and turned it up. I don't know why I listen to the radio when I have a surround sound in my room but I just like to. I guess it's because I never know what old songs they'll decide to play and remind me of them. It's a nice feeling when I hear a song that I used to absolutely love when I was younger and still know all the words a couple of years later. The only sucky part is realizing that I forgot it and that I'm getting older.

I change the station and guess what? Pillowtalk was on, so I did what any sensible human being would do... I blasted it. I dance my way over to my balcony and draw back the curtains to slide open the glass doors. I look up to see the balcony across from mine also open. Arthur's. He never closes his balcony doors. I don't understand how they made these houses like this. A balcony and a window on the same wall. I've honestly never saw anything like it... well I've lived here all my life but I never really cared much to look into it.

He's never home early anyway, so I walked over to my window, pushing the curtains away also to open it. I like the way the sun shines into my room in the afternoons so this is what I do everyday -- if I'm awake.

With my eyes closed, the sun shining through my room across my face, and the sound of Zayn's angelic voice, I felt peace. I felt free for once, in years and I feel like I can let go and be me, so I started singing. My voice is okay, but my parents love hearing me sing. My dad's always asking me to.

"Wow." I looked over to my door to see my dad standing there with my clothes, shoes, and bag in his hands, grinning at me. I turn to him and place my hands on my hips. "Is that the 'I just got rid of a fuckboi' glow I've heard so much about?" He says, still grinning.

"Dad don't curse!" I scowl at him while he just raised his eyebrows.

"Why? You do it all the time." He shakes his head.

"I really don't."

He rolls his eyes. "Okay, Grace. Your stuff." He walks over to my bed and drops everything on it.

I hurriedly take the shoes up and drop them on the floor then glared at him. He always does that because I always leave my stuff around the house and he's the one that brings them up to save me from my mom. I should really stop pushing it.

"You're welcome." He winks and as he turns to leave, he stops at the door and turns back to me, "Expect to give your mother an explanation for breaking up with Jeff-"

"John." I correct him on impulse. He always calls him different names and I always correct him. It's like a reflex.

"I'll call him what I want!" He snaps and I press my lips together to keep from laughing. "Just know, you don't need to explain anything to me. I would be fine if you'd dumped him because he never bought you a snicker bar. Later, babe." He walks out and closes the door behind him.

I chuckle under my breath. He just loves making dramatic exits.

I spent the next hour or so doing my homework. That stupid one that I have to read then summarize some stupid chapters. After that I just laid in bed, eating ice cream that I got from my fridge that's plugged in by my bed. My music was muted now as I relaxed, listening to Adorn by Miguel on the radio. It was around seven now but the sun was still shining brightly, lighting up my room for the next two hours.

Then I started thinking about how Arthur held me today. I let out a sigh and stuff my face with another spoon of ice cream. I shouldn't be thinking about how good it felt when he was holding me, but I am. Like he was holding me up. I let out a gurgling noise, my cheeks puffy from taking too much ice cream. All the these thoughts and the song playing at the moment isn't helping.

"What's going through your beautiful head?"

My head snaps to the side, instantly connecting with gaze. The last of the light outside was shining across the side of his face, shadowing the other half. The sight was simply breathtaking, and I wanted to reach for my phone and take a picture of him. I'd like to capture this moment.

He's standing on his balcony, staring right at me. The weirdo. His head is propped up on his folded fists and his bent elbows resting on the balcony bar. His face was blank. No glint in his eyes, no smirk, no nothing, and I don't know what to say or do, because if he could at least show some emotion, I'd know what mood he's in.

"Uh..." I chew my ice cream for something to do. I tried not to squirm under his gaze. I move my legs a little. Immediately, his eyes shot downward and he kept them there for a while.

I cleared my throat awkwardly, and slowly, his eyes moved up my body. It took a while for him to get to my face, and when he did, he had the same expression on. My face felt like a heating pad at this point.

I felt myself start to thaw a little when a small smile curls at his lips. "Just chilling?" he asked teasingly.

Slowly, I sit up, and as I'm answering him, I get the ice cream scared out of me.

"Grace!" I jerked, startled by her yelling.

Okay, Grace. It's time. You got this.

"Be down in a sec!" I yell back. I turn and put my ice cream back in my fridge then got up. You got this Grace.

I looked back up to Arthur's balcony, only for him to not be there. Well, isn't that rude. He could've waited a second.

"Yeah, Mom?" I walk into the living room and saw my mom sitting on the couch with my dad next to her. He was giving her the 'Are you kidding me?' look.

She didn't respond to me, so I took the single seat across from her. They purposely set it up like this so whenever I'm in trouble they can talk to me like I'm in an interrogation room or something. It's not like I'm ever in a lot of trouble, but right now I don't see what the problem is. I broke up with John, big deal. Lots of kids go through breakups, she should be asking me if I'm okay.

"Why'd you break up with John?" Right down to business then. No asking how was my first day? If I ate?  No? Okay.

"I'm just not feeling our relationship anymore, y'know?" I say, partially lying.

My dad replies. "Yeah. I feel you." My mom glares at him and he shakes his head but doesn't say anything else.

"I know that's not it. I thought you guys were happy together. You were always smiling around each other." She looks at me, eyes narrowing.

I sigh, my eyes dropping to my lap. "He calls me names, Mom." I look back up at her.

Her face goes blank and she blinks once before talking again, "Names?" She says, her voice emotionless.

"Names. Really mean names." I start twisting my hands nervously.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him." My dad growls. When I look up, I see my mom trying to get him to sit down. When he does, she sits on his lap and turns back to me. Gesturing to me to continue.

"It was mostly around his friends. He'd pull pranks on me with them and stuff. I thought he only did it around his friends but he started yelling at me this morning and calling me names, and I just-" I take a deep breath, willing myself not to cry. "I couldn't take it anymore." I blink back tears before looking up at their faces. I know they're trying really hard not to go to his house and murder him.

"What else?" She demands.

"That's why I'd been wearing all those sweatpants and stuff. Everyone called me fat and he never stood up for me. He just told me that they were right, that I 'wasn't skinny so I shouldn't get mad about people saying that'."

"I'm going to bitch slap that boy so hard his mother's tits are gonna start burning!" My mom jumps up off my dad and starts for the door. I blinked. My dad gets up and grabs her by the waist, pulling her back. "How dare his bitch ass say that shit to my baby! MY FUCKING BABY ANDREW!" She shouts at my dad, who's trying his best to calm her down. Then she starts laughing. "I'm gonna kill him. I am going to kill him." She says calmly.

Did it just get colder in here?

"I just have one more question." I nod at her. "Has he ever tried to force you to do anything?"

I thought about it. "Umm... I mean, sometimes he'd force me to go out on dates and stuff-"

"Not that stuff, Grace." She says in a clipped tone.

My face heats up and I shake my head aggressively, "No! He never did that! There were those rare times but he was a gentleman. Or he just never liked me that much." She lets out a relieved breath, which was kinda offensive given the last part of my- never mind.

"That's all I wanted to hear. Well, not the last part." She rushes over to me and sits on my lap. Oh come on! "God, Grace!-" It's 'good grace', "Why didn't you tell us!?" She hugs my head placing kisses on top of it.

"Well you really liked him, so..." I say through my squished face.

"Baby girl," she says and lifts my head to stare into my eyes, "if a man doesn't make you feel treasured and loved, all day, everyday, then drop his sorry ass, because if you don't I will."

I laugh then nod. "Stop cursing now." I tell her and she rolls her eyes.

"You do it all the time." She gets up off me and walks over to my dad, sitting on his lap again. She really likes sitting on people.

"Why do you guys think that I curse?" I stare at them, a little shocked. "I don't!"

"Whatever." They wave me off.

Just then there was knocking at the door. My dad lifted mom off him and went to get it.

"Who in their right mind comes to my house this late at night?" My mom says with a scowl.

"Mom. It's not even 8 yet." I stare at her.

She was about to answer, then we hear the front door slam. Like... really loud. We both jumped in our seats. My dad came back into the room with his jaw clenched and a pissed look on his face.

"Who was at the door?" My mom asks him, just as concerned as I am about his anger. It's not good when he gets angry. Curses start flying all over the place.

"Some kid got the wrong house." He says, his tone hard. He muttered something under his breath and I noticed his hands were shaking. I swear I heard him say something about not going back to jail.

There was another knock. Mom eyed him for a moment before she hesitantly got up from the couch and went to check the door.

"Dad? What ki-" I'm cut off by the door slamming closed again. I blink and watch my mom walk into the room, pissed as well.

What in the Lord's name... This is getting weird now.

"He's right." She drops down on my dad and he circle his arms around her waist.

"You guys are-" There's a knock again. Seeing as nobody's moving, I guess it's my turn.

I roll my eyes, getting the feeling that it was far from what they said, because if it was, the same person wouldn't still be knocking on the door.

Getting up from my comfortable spot, I dragged my feet lazily out of the room and toward the door front door. I was taking my time because whoever's on the other end is obviously not important if my parents slammed the door on them two times. I really hate getting the door. So when I opened it, my hatred for the task grew at who I saw.

"John?"

He audibly lets out a relieved breath, taking a step forward. "Grace, let's-"

I slam the door in his face and locked it, then make my way back to the living room. My parents were staring at me as I came back into the room.

I shrugged. "You guys were right."