"He wanted to see if you and your family would like to come over for a barbecue," he said, looking somewhat nervous. What? I thought to myself. Why would he want my family to come over for a barbecue? I was about to ask him why, but he started talking again before I could say anything. "It's only if you want to, of course. He just wants to meet you and your family."
I wasn't sure how to respond.

I was still processing his request, and Bash was staring at me expectantly, waiting for my answer. I hesitated before responding, "A... barbecue? And your dad wants my family to come too?" My confusion must have been written on my face because Bash looked nervous and started twiddling his fingers. "Yeah, I mean, only if you want to of course," he said, clearly hoping that I wouldn't reject the offer.

I was taken aback by Bash's suggestion. no one has ever invited me and my family over to a barbecue, mainly because I didn't have any friends before. I hesitated for a moment, trying to process the situation, before asking, "Seriously?" My mind was racing with questions. Why would Bash's dad want to meet me and my parents?
Bash could probably sense my hesitation and he quickly added "Come on, it'll be fun! please say you'll come." I thought about it for a moment then answered "okay i'll talk to my mom and dad about it" he looked up and smiled giving me a big hug, it felt different, I got hugs from my mom and dad before but this was a different feeling because it was from my friend, my only friend.

As my dad drove us home, my mind was racing with excitement. I was eager to tell my parents about the barbecue invitation, and I couldn't wait to see their reaction.

When we arrived at home, I sprinted inside, hoping to find my mom had come home early from work. But to my disappointment, she was nowhere to be seen. Come on, Mom! I thought to myself, pacing impatiently around the living room.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I heard the front door open. "I'm home!" my mom called out.
"Mom, come here! I have something to tell you and Dad!" I exclaimed, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the living room, where my dad was already seated. He had a small smile on his face, finding the scene of a four year old pulling a grown woman around to be quite amusing.

As I stood there, holding my mom's hand and dragging her into the living room, I knew I had to get straight to the point. "Bash's dad invited us to a barbecue!" I said excitedly. My dad had a big smile on his face, clearly on board with the idea.
But my mom's expression was different. She didn't look happy at all.
My dad noticed it, too. "That sounds like a great idea," he said, his tone cheerful. But then my mom spoke up, and her words struck like a punch to the gut.
"I can't go," she said quietly, looking down at the floor.
I felt my excitement fade as her words sunk in. I didn't understand what she meant. Why couldn't she go to the barbecue? It was just a simple event, a chance to spend time with Bash's family, and her own.

My dad didn't take the news as calmly. "What do you mean you can't come?" he asked, his voice raising a bit. I could hear the frustration in his tone. My mom looked up at my dad, her expression a mix of resignation and sadness. "I have to go on a business trip," she replied softly.
My dad clenched his jaw, clearly frustrated. "And when is this trip?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"three days from now," my mom said quietly. I could sense the tension in the air.
My dad let out a frustrated sigh. "And how long will you be gone this time?" he asked, his jaw still clenched tight.
"A month," my mom said quietly.
That was the last straw.

"a month?!" my dad exclaimed, his voice raising. "How many business trips have you gone to this year alone?!"
My mom looked down at her feet, unable to meet my dad's gaze. "I don't know," she mumbled.
That answer only seemed to make my dad angrier. "Do you ever think about the effect these trips have on us?" he asked, frustration and hurt clear on his voice.
"On me? On Gemma?"

My dad's words hung heavily in the air for a moment. My mom still couldn't bring herself to look at us, and the silence in the room was deafening. I felt so confused and sad. I didn't understand why my mom had to go on so many business trips. Why couldn't she just be here with us? Finally, my dad broke the silence. "So, you're just going to leave us again? Like usual?" he said, his voice cold.
My mom finally looked up at my dad, her eyes filled with guilt and sadness. "It's not like I want to leave you both," she said softly, "But my job requires me to travel."
"So your job is more important than us?" my dad shot back, his voice sharp. "Than your own husband and daughter?"

My mom seemed defeated after my dad's words. She looked like she was about to cry. "You know that isn't true," she said quietly, her voice trembling. My dad let out a bitter laugh. "Do I?" he asked. "Because it sure as hell seems like you enjoy your job more than being here with us. You'd rather travel around the world than spend time with your family." My dad's words stung, and even I could feel the hurt and anger in the air. I watched silently as my parents went back and forth, their voices growing louder. Finally, my dad had enough.

"You know what? Gemma, go to your room," he said firmly, not taking his eyes off my mom.
I knew better than to argue, so I did as I was told, I started making my way to my room. I hurriedly made my way up the stairs to my room, my heart racing and my mind spinning. The sound of my parents arguing filled the house, their strained voices following me every step of the way. Their arguments were rare, but when they did happen, they were intense, and it was always over the same thing, my mom leaving.

I settled onto my bed, drawing my knees close to my chest, and tried to block out the sound. The muffled words of their angry exchange filtered through my closed door, until I put my headphones on and started playing music.

The atmosphere in my room felt heavy and suffocating. The music from my headphones blasted through my ears, but it couldn't completely drown out the sound of my parents' arguing downstairs. Their voices were a constant, muffled murmur in the background, a stark reminder of the anger and tension downstairs. I tried to focus on the music, to lose myself in the lyrics and melody, but it was difficult. My mind was stuck on my parents' fight. And the constant question I asked myself was there again, why did my mom have to leave again? I closed my eyes, trying to block out the sound, but their angry words echoed in my head.

"You're always leaving us!"
"You care more about your job than your own family!"
"Why can't you stay home for once?"
"You're ruining our lives!"

Those words kept repeating in my head, like a broken record. Until finally, I drifted off to sleep.

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Poor Gemma, hopefully things with her parents work out for the better.
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