"Breathing in Gasoline"

I flick off the light and walk into the kitchen. The sounds of inter-galactic warfare have been replaced by the pitter-patter of computerized basketball players and canned cheering.



“Where’s mom?” I ask.


Seth and Jack pound their fingers away on their Game-boys, their upper bodies twisting in every direction to avoid defeat and gain victory. “Amelia, not now,” Jack whines.


My best friend is about to lose her virginity and my brother no longer needs to be attached to our mother: the world has spun off its axis.


“Hey Amelia, you’re welcome,” Seth says.


“For what?”


“If you don’t know yet, you will soon.” If his voice were an eye it’d be winking.


“So you’re talking to me now?” I don’t know which was more awkward during dinner: the tension between Zelda and Mr. McGee or Seth going out of his way to ignore me.


“For now,” he says, his back facing me.


“Seth, I really am sorry,” I mumble and walk into the kitchen. There is the sound of laughter but it is outside. I go to the front door and there is Mr. McGee with those long fingers on mom’s cheek. They are sitting at the top of the steps like two teenagers hiding from their strict parents. There is an intimacy between them that makes me think of big hearts and fireworks, and young lovers walking into the setting sun. But they are not kids. They are mom and Mr. McGee and their closeness makes me feel like I am breathing in gasoline. His lips brush against hers and my eyes sting from the sight. There is that chest pain, and there on those cheap wooden steps is what’s left of my world and it’s bursting into giant flames.


I run to my room and close the door before they can see me and know that I knew all along; before they try to burn me with their touch.