616: Quietly
"Quietly"
Eireann Corrigan
Upstairs that night, my mother and sister and I
piled the bedroom bookshelves against the door
and stood with our backs pressed there, waiting
to hear my father and brother fight him off.
But we heard nothing. We heard his footsteps -
first up the staircase, then right outside. The door
shook against a shelf and knocked a glass
jar of coins to the floor. Jackpot. And then
Mimi and I really started screaming. I remember
pounding against the windows, seeing all the docked
boats flashing in the harbor, the rows of headlights
easing their way across the bridge. Nowhere near us.
Along the Chesapeake Bay, maybe a woman sat in a car,
resting her head on her husband’s shoulder. All she saw
when she looked towards us was a blank square of brightness -
not my sister, trying to shatter the window with a lamp.
Lately, I feel like that all over again. Even crowded
around the table at lunch with everyone. Like my friends
are drinking soda while I’m sipping gasoline. My teeth hurt
from remembering. My throat hurts from not telling.
Eireann Corrigan
Upstairs that night, my mother and sister and I
piled the bedroom bookshelves against the door
and stood with our backs pressed there, waiting
to hear my father and brother fight him off.
But we heard nothing. We heard his footsteps -
first up the staircase, then right outside. The door
shook against a shelf and knocked a glass
jar of coins to the floor. Jackpot. And then
Mimi and I really started screaming. I remember
pounding against the windows, seeing all the docked
boats flashing in the harbor, the rows of headlights
easing their way across the bridge. Nowhere near us.
Along the Chesapeake Bay, maybe a woman sat in a car,
resting her head on her husband’s shoulder. All she saw
when she looked towards us was a blank square of brightness -
not my sister, trying to shatter the window with a lamp.
Lately, I feel like that all over again. Even crowded
around the table at lunch with everyone. Like my friends
are drinking soda while I’m sipping gasoline. My teeth hurt
from remembering. My throat hurts from not telling.