7/22
Mom's coming home.
Oh my god.
OH MY GOD.
I need to sleep. Or pace. Or something that doesn't involve thinking.
7/23
So, Mom'll be back tomorrow. I don't know who to talk to this about. Amalia has so much on her plate right now with Brendan's Dad (She hasn't spent the night at her own house in ages).
Dad's being back to his normal anal self. However, his new movie turned out great results at the screening, so he's not being too bad. He's just more anal about the things at home. He keeps yelling at Zeke and Pilar. Pilar was in tears today. Without saying anything, I started to help her. I think she appreciated it, but she didn't say anything. I wish that I was close to Pilar like Dawn is close to Mrs. Bruen.
I sound really jealous of Dawn's life. I am.
I'm nervous about Mom coming home. Will she be different? Like in a bad way? Will she be resentful of us? Thankful? All these questions keep going through my head and I have no answers for them.
I thought about calling Dawn, but I would get the positive thinking bull she always goes on about. I thought about calling Ducky, since he helped me so much when she first went into rehab, but hasn't he done enough?
I'm freaking out. I'm SCARED.
Someone's at the door.
Ten minutes later...
That was Dad. The conversation went something like this:
"What are you doing, Maggie?"
"Writing," I replied. "I'll come downstairs and help in just a moment."
"It's not that," he said in a strange voice. "It's about your attitude."
"My attitude?" I repeated, also in a strange voice.
"Yes, I don't like it."
I stared at him. I had the feeling saying "I have no idea what you're talking about" would be the wrong response. So I didn't say anything.
"I don't want you undermining me. Your mother is still unstable and will need to know, for fact, who's in charge. I want you home early, and home more often. You can't be out at all hours of the night, all day long like you have been all summer. We're a family."
"Since when?" I snapped, before I could stop myself. "Since your movies became more important than us? When did that make us a family?"
Dad's face went red. "I do what I do to support us as a family."
"Don't you think that we'd rather have you HERE than out making movies and making us money? Did you ever stop to think that Zeke would rather play catch with you in the yard than be shipped off to some fancy tennis camp every summer? Or that I would rather play in my band than be in the movie business? That I'd rather write? Or maybe you just think that money will solve all your problems."
For the first time in my life, I thought my father was going to hit me. He didn't raise his hand, but his fists were clenched and his face was nearly purple it was so dark. But I didn't apologize. In fact, I went on.
"You were there!" I cried. "You heard the song. As you may of guessed, I wrote it about you. That's how I feel. You'd rather solve all your problems by making more money and pretending your life is perfect than really dealing with the problems. You want our lives to be like one of your movies. You want us to be that perfect family with your perfect kids and your perfect wife. Maybe you haven't guessed, but we're not perfect. Mom is coming home from REHAB. Zeke hates you, and no one can talk to you about anything real! Maybe it's not my attitude, maybe it's yours!"
I was screaming by the end, I was near tears, and I could hardly breathe. But I felt better than I had in weeks. I still can't believe I said it. It just all came bubbling out.
However, Dad was fuming. "Maggie-"
"Just go!" I shouted. "Just get out of here!"
And, then, to my ultimate surprise, Dad left.
At that moment I felt powerful. I felt strong. How is it that Dad listened to me? Did the words I just say mean something to him? Well, they should have, and I guess they did.
How strong could I truly be? How strong was I for real?
Later 7/23
I ended up calling Tyler, but I got his voicemail. I'm sure that he was filming. About two hours later, he called me back.
"Hey, Maggie."
"Tyler, hey. I didn't expect you to call back until this evening," I replied.
"We're on break, and I was going to wait, but I realized that I really couldn't."
I could have melted right there. How did I end up with a guy this sweet? I smiled. "Well, I just wanted to tell you about this thing that happened today. I wanted your opinion."
"Shoot," he replied.
I told him about everything. Mom, Dad, and my new found sense of power. Tyler was quiet the whole time and when I was done, I could practically hear him smiling.
"Maggie," he said, "I knew you had this in you. You've been so downtrodden about everything, and look at yourself now. You've realized your own power. You've realized that you can control yourself, and to a point, the people around you. But especially, how people see you. I've always known that this was inside of you."
"That's so nice to hear," I replied.
"It's true," he replied.
Then he had to go, the director was getting irritated that he wasn't there already. So we said a quick good-bye and I was left alone in my room. I wasn't about to leave knowing full and well that Dad was pissed at me.
I'm not stupid, here.
I cleaned my room. Not that it really needed it. But I figured it was one less thing I could get yelled at about.
But there's one thing I don't understand. Why is Dad relenting to me? Why does he keep not fighting back? He didn't fight back over the song, he didn't fight back to my accusations. It's not like Dad to just give up.
I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT'S GOING ON.
7/24
Mom's home. She's been very subdued. I don't blame her. I don't know what to say to her. Dad keeps talking in this really fake soothing voice, updating her on what happened since she's been gone. He hasn't mentioned me at all.
I've left Tyler about three messages already. Maybe four.
All that power I felt yesterday? Gone. Down the tube.
But maybe not. I talked to Dad. In calm voices. Not yelling. Maybe we got some things worked out. Maybe we didn't.
"Dad," I said, "we need to talk."
Mom was upstairs taking a nap, and Zeke was out in the pool. I figured that would give Dad and I some time to talk.
He didn't reply, he just nodded. We went into the kitchen and sat down.
"Yes, Maggie?" he said after clearing his throat.
"I wanted to apologize for shouting," I said. "But I don't apologize for what I said. And I hope you can respect that."
Dad paused and nodded. "I can."
"I don't... all I want for this to split up our family," I said. "I'm just so frustrated. You're always pushing me around, and when I do what I want to do, you say it's attitude, like all I have to say is talking back."
"You just don't think about your future, Maggie," Dad said.
"That's not true! Dad, all I ever do is think about my future. I work my ass- um, butt off trying to get straight A's. I'm so paranoid that I won't get into a good college, or college at all. Just because I'm in the band, and I write instead of wanting to direct movies, or be in YOUR business, you seem to think that I don't care what happens to me. It's like... I don't matter if I'm not in the movie business."
Dad looked shocked. "What? Of course you matter! Why do you think I push you? You'd make it in the business with my connections. If you decide to go in another direction, you'd have to make it on your own. So you'd have to be the best at what you want to do. That's why I want you to go into the business, because you'd have no choice but to be successful."
"And that's why I don't want to be in the business. I want to know that I could fail. I've had everything handed to me all my life. That's why I work so hard on my grades. Because I want to be able to do whatever I want." I shrugged. "I want my options, not just your options."
Then, out of nowhere, Dad started laughing.
"What?" I asked.
"We've just been running around in a circle. You hate this life. And I wanted to shove you into it."
"I don't hate my life, Dad," I said, not finding it funny at all. "Believe me, I know that most people don't live like us. But, yeah, I don't want this life forever. I'm able to appreciate knowing people based on who they are and not just because of how famous they are, or how much money they make."
"I can respect that." He had stopped laughing.
"So... we have an understanding?"
"I think so. But I still expect your grades-"
"Believe me, Dad, my GPA isn't going anywhere."
Dad gave me a pat on the back that I think was supposed to be a hug. One step at a time, here. But I think Dad and I have just opened up a gateway.
Things are looking up.