Dropping my purse on the ground I knelt beside my beautiful mother and held her in my arms. A few minutes later, after the tears stopped she looked into my eyes and said, “I’m sorry sweetie.” I replied, “Its okay mommy.” “No it’s not. You shouldn’t have to see your mother like this,” she said heatedly. As if the outburst had stolen all her energy she slumped in my arms.

Putting my hands on either side of her face I forced her to look into my eyes. I studied her features and tried to remember when her face had become so gaunt, when had she developed so many worry lines, when did her dancing blue eyes become so sad. She smiled at me. The smile that once matched mine perfectly no longer reached my mother’s eyes. “You were always so strong,” she said. I answered, “You taught me.” That night I held my mother beside the pool and the next morning I once again woke up to the cookie cutter happiness that was the Porter household.

Unfortunately this one occurrence became somewhat of a ritual. I would come outside to find my mother crying beside the pool, usually with a bottle of wine. Every time I’d lie down beside her until she’d either fallen asleep or tired of crying. The next morning we would act as if nothing had happened, all smiles and lies.

On nights when my father came home before midnight the arguing ensued. It always started off as whispers, small comments spit at my father, “How’s your little girlfriend,” or, “What, did she send you home early?” They assumed I could not hear their hushed tones but our beautiful home came with a lack of soundproofing. As the whispers turned into shouts I tossed in my bed, hoping to find solace in sleep. That proved futile because the few times I did get to sleep their voices seeped into my dreams. I couldn’t escape their words or the pain that accompanied them.

Every once in a while the sound of a lamp breaking or something crashing against a wall would echo through the house. On those nights the bedroom door would fly open and my father would stomp into the guest bedroom. I never let on that I heard all of this even though I knew they knew. But the Porter motto was: if you don’t mention it, it never happened.