Not really J/C at all. It's kind of another spin on what I wrote for Heaven. It's a bit repetitive (I mean, we all know that I'm lame and a fraud). But this interaction kept playing in my mind, so here you go.
Cindy wakes up in the dark. With a dull pang of irritation, she realizes she has to go to the bathroom. After her eyes adjust, she quietly sneaks to her bedroom door and opens it. There's a light coming from downstairs, which sometimes happened when her mother went to bed late. She grumbles under her breath as she goes to turn it off.
She's a bit surprised to find her father sitting in the entryway, putting his shoes on.
"Dad?" she inquires.
His eyes are dark and shadowed, "Did I wake you up?"
"No. I saw the light on down here and came to turn it off."
There's a long moment of tense silence. Finally, her father sighs, "Cindy, you must know that things have been bad between your mother and me for a while."
She did. She had noticed the iciness between her parents grow over the past months. She had seen the slippers at the end of the couch, and the alarm clock tucked into the corner. "Are you getting divorced?" she inquires.
"I don't know, Cind. I just have to leave for a while."
"Can I come with you?" the question is little more than a whisper.
"I don't think that's a good idea," he answers.
She thinks of every scrutinous look, the never-ending criticism, and comparison. Even though her dad didn't get involved in her life, he would be better than her mother. "You'd leave me alone with her?"
"Your life is here, Cindy," at his words, she thinks of Libby, of her school, and a particular boy genius.
"How long will it be before I see you again?"
"A while."
"Oh."
She feels like screaming. Why didn't he care about her? Why didn't he fight harder against her mother? He would be free, leaving her locked up in this cage, clawing at the bars.
"You should try to get some sleep, Cindy. You have school tomorrow," he says.
She doesn't answer; she merely lets her feet carry her up the stairs. She closes her bedroom door behind her and sinks to the ground. The wood is hard against her back. She sits for a long time in the dark until she hears the front door open and then softly close. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, and she tightens her hands into fists so tight that her nails bite into her skin.
She would not cry for a man who had chosen himself over her.
-x-