The voices are getting louder. You press your ear up against the wall and cover the opposite one with your hand. You remember something about cups making the words clearer. This childish trick actually works, much to your surprise. After a while the voices get lower, almost as if they know that you are listening. You begin to fidget, as sitting still is hard to do when at an akward angle. The voices begin to escalate again. You close your eyes for a moment and then carry on with listening. A few minutes later a younger sibling barges in and knows exactly what you are doing but only because they were doing the same thing. You feel the pinkness arise in your cheeks and talk to your sibling for a few more moments. You cannot stand there talking to them when the voices keep rising. Your sibling returns to their listening spot while you hear names being tossed into the air, yours being one of them. The voices sound more and more frustrated by the minute and your eyes begin to water. You silently plead with yourself not to let the tears escape again. After a few more minutes you slide down to the floor, your back against the wall. You rub your temples and close your eyes, uselessly hoping for the waterworks to not be turned on this time. The voices are so loud that sometimes the whole neighborhood can hear; or so it seems. Your arms automatically hug your knees to your chest as your head bows and the river begins to flow. Once again the disappointment sinks deep beneath your skin. Your anger bubbles from being so pathetic. This is when you remember that it's not always good to eavesdrop.
February 17, 2010