The next morning I awoke to the sense that something was wrong. The house seemed to be filled with anger, anger broadcasting from one person and directed towards me. The discomfort of the strong emotion had my mouth dry as I stood up, my mind scanning the house to try and find who seemed to suddenly hate me. The thoughts were coming from downstairs, in the kitchen, and now the rage was slowly being interspaced with jealousy. Focusing more I could pick up brief flashing images, little more then lightning flashes, only half glimpsed but enough for me to piece together.
"Dad," I muttered to myself as I finally pieced together who it was that was directing such hatred towards me. The quick flashes of his thoughts showed the events of last night, he must have been peeking at the doorway while Becca and I had sex, but I was confused as to why his anger was directed towards me alone, excluding Becca completely. Then the growing jealousy made sudden sense, bringing a wry smile to my face. He hated me for having fucked my younger sister but was jealous of me at the same time; he was lusting after his own daughter and saw me as a competitor.
Sitting down on the edge of my bed I tried to push my father's sudden rage out of my mind, delving into his thoughts, trying to grasp any of the fleeting flashing images. It was difficult, his emotions pushing my tenuous grasp on his thoughts aside until I finally figured out how to deal with the torrent of feelings coursing through his mind. I had been trying to grab onto one thought and hold it steady only to have his rage push me aside but once I let myself go with his emotions, allowing the thoughts to change with the speed of his anger, I found myself able to slowly begin to alter them. It was like bodysurfing in white water rapids and my forehead was covered in sweat, my breath coming in deep gasps as I finally began to take control of my father's thoughts.
I could feel the dull pain that came from using my power too much beginning to build in my head but tried to ignore it, focusing on my father's anger filled thoughts. I couldn't just erase his anger, that would probably have given me a migraine for weeks, but I instead focused on the feeling of contentment he felt as I pulled an image of Debra into the forefront of his mind. I slowly increased the feeling of happiness, a sense of well being, that was found only in his co-worker's embrace until his mind was longing to be with her, his anger towards me now pushed far back in his mind. Although I hated to do it, I projected a mental image of Mom into my father's mind coupling it with a gnawing feeling of unease, a discomfort that was associated with being in our house, until it had grown strong enough to force him to leave.
I sat there, gasping for breath as if I had just run a marathon through the desert, long after I heard the front door slam shut and a car speeding away. Standing up I noticed my body was completely drenched in sweat and I felt exhausted, the dull throbbing pain in my head telling me I had overextended my thoughts as I slowly made my way downstairs. As I stepped into the kitchen I saw my father's half empty coffee cup next to a piece of paper, a few hasty words scrawled across it. Sitting down at the table I slowly read the note he'd written to my mother:
Kristina, I can't stay here anymore. I'm in love with Debra and must be with her for my happiness. I won't fight the divorce and you will be well provided for but I can't... just can't live here any longer. You won't see me again, Dan.
"Bye, Dad." I sighed softly, thinking about how much this would change our lives and what I had done to our formerly happy home. I hadn't meant to hurt anyone, definitely not to ruin my parent's marriage, but it had just happened that way. I'd have to be more careful, I promised myself, I couldn't just toy with people's thoughts without thinking of the consequences. As I sat there I heard a door open and footsteps along the hallway upstairs, pausing briefly at the bathroom before continuing towards the stairs. Stretching my mind out, wincing at the sudden shooting pain behind my eyes, I sensed my mother as she came down the stairs, wondering idly where my father had gone to so early. They usually had breakfast together before he went off to work, a ritual that they had faithfully followed since before either of us kids were born.
Trying to work through the now shooting pains in my head I began altering my mother's thoughts and emotions, trying to lessen her sense of loss as I projected a mental image of our family without my father. I barely had enough time to increase her feelings of resignation and acceptance to his leaving us before Mom entered the kitchen, her soft cotton nightgown clinging to her shapely body.
"Morning, Mom." I greeted her, my mind withdrawing from hers as I tried to focus through the horrible pain that seemed to ricocheting around in my skull.
"Hello, Sweetheart," She paused, kissing me on the forehead before walking over to the coffee maker. "You're up early, Sean. Did you see your father?" she asked curiously as she poured herself a cup, moving over to sit opposite me.
"I... I couldn't sleep, I've got a splitting headache," I told her truthfully as I slowly pushed the note across the table. It took her a few seconds to realize what it said, her eyes growing large in disbelief as she read the simple few lines written there. "I'm sorry, Mom." I told her softly, seeing a mix of emotions flickering across her face, her knuckles turning white from the tight grip she had on her coffee cup. "I'm really sorry, Mom," I repeated, my hand covering hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"It's..." Mom started to say, before raising her hand to her eyes and wiping away a tear. "I had a feeling this was coming, Sean. I know it's terrible to say but I had a feeling he was having an affair. Our marriage... our marriage had lost most of its magic a long time ago but it's... it's still hard to have it just end like this."
"I know, Mom." I reassured her, moving over to stand behind her chair, my arms wrapping around her shoulders, hugging her as she slowly began to cry. I knew my adjustments had taken place, her reactions and emotions seemed only a fraction of what they should have been for having a 24 year long marriage end suddenly. She didn't cry long, her hand patting mine as I held her as she lifted her head and looked at me, her eyes red rimmed from her tears as she gave me a weak smile.
"I guess you're the man of the house now," She told me, trying for a joke but missing completely.
"Yeah, I guess so," I said with a small insincere laugh. "I think you should go back to bed, Mom. Try to get some sleep and we'll deal with this," I say, motioning towards the note as it lay there on the table, "later when we're all feeling better."
"That's... that's a good idea, Sean." Mom told me, standing up and kissing my cheek once more before she moved to the door of the kitchen. "Thank you, love." She told me simply before she turned and went up the stairs.
