When He Turned *19*

Not for the first time dinner is awkward for my family. There is a total, pressing silence. I cut my potatoes neatly before chewing each one especially. My father clears his throat twice before opening his mouth to speak,
"So, Delia, uh, what do you like to do in your free time?" I couldn't stop myself from looking up at her, to guage her reaction.
"I like to listen to music in my room," she murmurs quietly, eyes never leaving her plate.
"What kind of music?"
"May I be excused?" Delia finally questions, looking up for the first time. The shock of her question sweeps through the room, silencing all of us. My mother manages to recover faster than both my father and I.
"Of course dear, are you not feeling well?"
"No," Delia says, honesty giving the answer a sharp edge.
"Alright, good night," The scrape of four chair legs against the floor grates on my nerves and my hand flies to my temple. I do not look up until the soft footsteps have faded totally.
"Uh, dear, no offense, but why is she staying here again?" my father questioned with a pained expression.
"She needs my help, and I think that I can help her."
"Cadence, should you really be taking responsibility for this girl?" I pause, wondering if Delia is listening in at this very moment, certainly possible.
"When I put myself in her shoes I ask myself what I would want someone to do for me, this is it."

"Good girl, you're making the responsible decision. Go ahead and relax, I'll do the dishes tonight," my mother said, practically falling over herself in an effort to gather the plates. Clearly she did not want my father to discourage me. I had barely left the dining room when the doorbell rang. I open the door without a second thought and feel the immediate relief of Penn's prescence, before I remember to wonder why he's here.
"Delia called," he says by way of explanation. I feel my jaw drop as anger bubbles right up from my toes to engulf me. I step into the frigid air and pull the door shut quickly.
"What?" I manage to achieve the deadly tone of voice that I've only heard others use before.
"She doesn't think that this is such a good idea anymore."
"Well yes. I would have gathered that already, how did you get here so quickly? Precisely?" My tone stayed at the same lethal frequency, and it must be having some sort of effect, because Penn pauses in answering.
"Would you believe that she called me before dinner?" he asked, looking behind my head.
"When you put it that way, no. Why are you so nervous?" Here my voice took on a caressing, cooing sort of quality. Even more dangerous.
"Look, I don't want to fight with you Cadence. She called me to come and get her and that's what I'm going to do."
"I'm not fighting you on that, I would never force her to do anything, you should know that I wouldn't do that. That's not what our problem is though, is it?"
"Our problem? You're being ridiculous."
"Our problem is that you don't trust me, not at all. Not with Delia, not with you, not even with myself." Silence falls and I want to crawl deep inside myself and die, because I know that I've struck a chord of truth.

"Cadence, can you please pick out another time to freak on me? I think that I can handle any lunatic moments you can dish, at any other time, just not now."
"Lunatic?" I mean for my voice to be challenging, but it just breaks on a sad note, and lingers like a bad memory. "How did we get here?" I ask, studying the ice woven in an intricate pattern over the cement of the doorstep. "When you can't even leave someone with me for one night?" My voice begins to pick up a bit of the righteous anger I was riding earlier, and I run with it. "What, am I like the bad babysitter? Is this Mommy Dearest now? Can you tell me that I did one irresponsible thing? One thing that would possibly justify your treatment of me right now? Can we remember who bailed whom out of jail? Because I'm pretty sure that you were in the handcuffs. Do I come to your house and take something? Saying that you can't take care of it properly?" I have to pause to take a breath, and realize that I don't want to say anything else, not anyting else at all. I just want this to be over, want him to be gone.
"Cadence that's not what I'm saying! This just didn't work out, and it's not your fault. It's not her fault and it's certainly not my fault. Stop throwing the blame for consequences that are blameless."

I curl my fingers into my palms, not caring that my fingernails are biting my skin.
"You don't even know that. It's been one night, she doesn't even know if this will work. She can't keep running, and you certainly can't keep letting her," These words fall emotionlessly, cold as the ice under my feet.
"I am trying to help her," he argues, nostrils flaring.
"Oh, sorry. I was just looking out for myself apparently."
"That's not what I meant," he sighs scuffing his toe on the ice.
"Like it even matters at this point." I turn back for the door, ready to give up this fight. I turn back to say one more thing, "You can go and get Delia, and then you can get the hell out."