Tom Maglaqui

Amanda always wakes up at 6:30 on the dot. She could probably sleep in another five to 10 minutes, but doesn’t like to rush. She sits up in the bed while her husband, Michael, snoozes away. Sometimes she smiles at him, other times she scowls. Sometimes she doesn’t look at him at all. Either way, she doesn’t stay in bed long before moving downstairs to the kitchen and preparing Leah’s lunch. 

Leah is in the third grade and hasn’t gotten to the point where she hates school. School can be awful for those who are different. Kids will do cruel things to one another, and adults often don’t care. Hopefully, this won’t be a problem for Leah. 

Leah meets her mother downstairs, where Amanda has prepared a plate of fruit and toast. As Leah finishes up her food, Michael descends the stairs and greets them both with a kiss on the cheek. He’s wearing his red polo shirt with a laminated nametag. He steals a grape from Leah’s plate and laughs as she sticks her tongue out at him. 

The house feels dead after they leave. Sometimes, the orange cat named Milo will prowl the halls looking for crumbs or insects. Milo used to growl and hiss into the air at all hours of the day, but he’s gotten used to the smells he once thought of as foreign. A few well-placed treats also helped him calm down. 

Amanda is the first to return home. She goes upstairs and changes out of her work clothes into a comfortable pair of leggings and a loose-fitting shirt. Her afternoon routine usually involves watching several reality show episodes, then gardening. Today, she watches a little more TV than usual and falls asleep on the couch. 

She’s been having trouble sleeping lately. It’s hard to tell why, but it probably has something to do with the many letters she’s been getting and instantly throwing away. 

Michael is next. He always looks so worn out. Working at a department store is a far cry from the nice office job he once held, but he took what he could to support his family. I respect that.

Little Leah’s bus drops her off an hour later. She looks like she’s had a hard day, but doesn’t talk to her parents about that kind of stuff. She cries in her room when she thinks she’s alone, though.

Despite everything, by the end of the day, they’re a family again. We’re a family again. They haven’t seen me, but I can tell they know I’m here. I catch Leah glancing at the vents from where I’m watching her. Sometimes, I whisper a “hey” to her and I’m pretty sure she smiles. 

Maybe I’ll come out of the wall today. I’ve been planning to for months now. Then, we can all be a family for real.