Free Weavers by Aric Davis

again.
    “All right,” said Mom, “we’ll get you something on the way.” Though Mom didn’t look sad, Cynthia knew she was. “It won’t always be like this, Cynthia. Things are going to be weird for a little bit, but your dad and I will get this all figured out. No matter what happens, you’re the most important thing in our lives.”
    “OK,” said Cynthia, before turning to walk to her room to get dressed. She knew Mom was lying, and the sting of it was like a whip on her cheek. If I mattered as much as she says I do, we’d still be in the house instead of this apartment, and she wouldn’t be looking for a job. Cynthia couldn’t read Mom’s thoughts the way she could a Berenstain Bears book, but she did know that, as important as words like “divorce” and “affair” were, all Mom cared about now was showing him .
    Neither of them spoke as Mom drove from the McDonald’s drive-thru to Dad’s store. Cynthia wasn’t talking because her mouth was full, but she figured Mom was being quiet because she was starting to have doubts about leaving her daughter with Dad and about looking for a job. Cynthia’s parents had worked together for as long as she could remember, usually on opposing shifts, but never had they worked anywhere but the store. It has to be so weird for Mom. Cynthia was sure of that, just as sure as she was that of everyone involved in divorce, Mom had planned for it least of all.
    Mom parked as Cynthia finished off her hash browns and orange juice, but when Cynthia unbuckled her seat belt, Mom said, “Go ahead and stay in the car for just a second, Cynth. I’m going to go inside and talk to Dad for a minute, and then I’ll be back to get you.”
    “OK.”
    Mom took her keys from the ignition and left the car, locking the doors before walking inside. Cynthia watched her disappear and then took a drink of orange juice before looking to the lot to see who else was parked there. She could see Dad’s truck, as well as Linda’s little convertible, and something in Cynthia’s stomach twisted as she realized that Mom, Dad, and Linda were all going to be in the same confined space. Cynthia was small, alone, and not well versed in the world of adults, but it was no mystery that the three of them together would be a bad combination.
    Cynthia was staring at the store when two bearded men came out of it carrying their purchases, and as she watched them drive away in the last car in the lot, she knew what she needed to do. If her parents and Linda were going to argue, they were going to do it now, when there was no one else left in the building. Cynthia opened her door and as she left the vehicle could already hear Mom shouting from inside the store. She had to keep going, though. So Cynthia walked to the front door, took a deep breath, and pulled it open.
    The store was exactly how she remembered it, only now it felt different, as if it were scarred somehow. Cynthia could hear Mom and Dad yelling louder, as well as another sound—Linda sobbing from the back of the store. Cynthia walked past the magazine racks, cigarette ads, and an impossibly tall shelf covered in glass bottles before walking to the coolers and taking a right through the open door into the stockroom. Farther back was Dad’s office, but there would be no need to walk that far. Mom, Dad, and Linda were right around the corner from her, by all of the recycling bins.
    Cynthia could see them as she poked her head around a stack of cases of bottled beer. Mom stood just a few feet from Dad, her careful makeup job already spoiled, though Cynthia doubted Mom was aware of anything besides Dad and Linda. Dad was red-faced and furious looking, but even with everything that was happening, Cynthia felt bad for him. Dad looked tired, angry, and weak all at once, but she could also see the man who loved to read with her shining through the aches on his face. Linda looked scared, like a mouse trapped by a pair of cats. Cynthia catalogued these