Oh God, it was happening again. The day was a God-damn Thursday, and thick rain plummeted onto the roof of our home. The windows revealed only the depressing greyness the whole block seemed to have adopted in the past 24 hours. As I sat on the shiny leather sofa, tapping my fingers to the time of the watery bullets pounding all around, the cacophony of the Miller family’s singing reached my ears.
“OH COME ON,” Father called from the next room over. “It’s a horrid day. Can’t they just leave it for once?”
“‘Can’t you just leave it for once?’ God Jeremy, you are such a hypocrite! How many times have I said the same thing to you when you insisted on working day and night?” Mother retorted as she entered father’s study.
“Ah my dearest wife. Come to make it all better darling? Well I surely appreciate that support for all the hard work I’ve done FEEDING THIS FAMILY.”
“Of course! And you are the only one in this family who works? Of course!”
Father’s eyes widened slightly, and he pinched the space between his brows.
“Are we seriously doing this again?” he said.
“Well we never seem to come to anything we can agree on! I try to talk, and you stare at me with that dumbfounded expression like you hardly believe the words coming out of my mouth!”
“Because you are being completely unreasonable!”
“What is so unreasonable? We are entering a new age, Jeremy! With each day our reason increases!”
“Are you mad, woman? I can’t stand to humor this delusion you harbor so God-damn earnestly!”
“It’s not a delusion, you arse! It’s the future!”
“A woman can not support a family like a man does! You are simply inferior in that department biologically!”
“Oh forgive me! I forgot I was in the room with a scientist!”
“It’s common knowledge!”
“Don’t yell in front of Collin!”
“Don’t give me that! You are yelling too! Your place is to ensure the wellbeing of our children, and look at you! You’re already failing at your real “job!” Don’t yell in front of Collin!”
“Thanks but I’m good,” I said, though I knew they were just using me against each other. I’m a very realistic person, and I could have cried viciously in front of them, and they would be just as oblivious. Actually, props to Mother for noticing I was in the room.
“In a couple years, when we’re in complete control, I might consider sparing you!”
I smirked at the windows after that line and continued to stare at the storm.
“Are you serious right now? Yesterday, you and Jessica Mannad fought over the newspaper! You both had one, but you thought she took yours because she thinks the paper boy doesn’t like her and purposely wrinkles her paper! And now you’re telling me you want to be entrusted with a real job!”
“I already have a real job!”
“I would hardly call your mediocre nanny service a job, Denise!”
“Oh you sorry piece of -- Christ, would those Millers shut it already?”
I cracked a smile for the Millers’ stupidity. Every Thursday, Mr and Mrs Miller, their two boys, and their little girl began belting out Christian songs to the whole neighbourhood. It was atrocious really. I mean, maybe we would be able to tolerate it if they didn’t open their windows to torture us more thoroughly. No, those Millers were a bloody kooky bunch. Even Jane Miller, the adorable infant I’d met when us Marks could stand the likes of “those Miller buffoons,” sang endearingly off-key along with her family.
“Jeremy, give me that God-damned bottle!”
“Oh bloody Hell, go away Denise! Don’t pretend you don’t guzzle one or two with Edward Winchester across the street!”
I tilted my head curiously toward the fuming duelers. What was this? The people of this neighbourhood were just well-off bores, and, though the men were preoccupied with business affairs, their gossipy, ever-restless wives much preferred the more interesting type of affairs. God, it was like “living on the wild side” for them. So it wasn’t difficult for me to suspect mother of such behavior, but she was a woman filled with too much pride in her family. Of course I mean our educational achievements and social standing, not our individual merits. Ah, the family motto: the Marks family, so much better than all the others.
“What? I have no idea what you're talking, you insatiable drunk!”
“Oh, uh huh. I’m the drunk of the two of us, huh? Bet Edward would’ve liked to hear that after you got all boozy and fun at his pretty little town house!”
“I--well--”
“Mrs. Winchester, you getting a little stuttery?”
“JEREMY! You calm your drunk arse down this instant!”
As the yelling and shrieking increased in volume, I expected the obnoxious sounds of the Millers’ singing to be drowned out. But instead, it only grew louder and louder, until it was too booming to ignore any longer.
“In God’s name, what is that foul sound permeating my home?!” Mother blared.
People in neighbouring houses looked out their windows to determine the source of all the noise. It felt as though the ground shook with the force of the singing, jolting the frame of our home. How was it possible the Millers were singing at such a volume? With such power in their voices? I knew they were always very passionate about their Jesus this and Jesus that’s, but wow. Though I couldn’t always admire their traditional ideals, they sure were determined. And tenacious, considering how hard Mother and Father yelled at them to stop. But eventually the Millers’ singing came to a close, as it always did at 8 pm.
I slumped back into the sofa, tension slipping from my shoulders and neck as the seat took all my weight. Sweet, silent relief settled in the room. I could hear the steady thrum of the rain that had turned to hail at some point in the evening. My eyes began to shut with the relative quiet of it all, for it felt like I had never experienced this level of calm in the house. Then I realized; I hadn’t
I bolted upright, and my eyes scanned the room for Mother and Father. How long I had I just napped for? I heard Mother’s soft chuckle coming from the study, and I crept toward it. The door was slightly ajar, revealing Mother’s thin figure poised over Father’s chair, her hand resting on his broad shoulder.
“Did you see Mrs. McCarthy almost blow a blood vessel when her book club meeting was interrupted by a ‘family of utterly savage hooligans’ Jer?
“I swear, there was one right up on her forehead, sticking out all wrong like her new nose.”
“Oh my, that nose truly is the real atrocity huh?”
“Most definitely, Den.”
I looked upon the scene and smiled a genuinely sincere smile, probably my first in a long while. Mother laughed again at something Father had muttered and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his chest. I gently shut the door and crossed the house to the front entrance. I thought it was time for a nice walk. I thought I might even go and bring the close-your-bloody-windows idea directly to Jonathan Miller.
Big-league lawyer and arse Jonathan Miller was always a passionate zealot who would file a suit against you for taking the Lord’s name in vain. He worked and prayed so much that he was hardly seen ever anymore. In fact, the same goes for most of the Miller family. Crazy buggers were once a constant in the neighbourhood gossip circles, but now no one even remembers them until Thursday evenings. Usually not even then because the singing has become so ingrained in our routines, though admittedly today it was much louder than usual. The Millers would be wise not to make a habit of it.
The wind was still heavy outside, and it pushed little chunks of icey rain into my face. Through my barely open eyes, I saw little Jane Miller padding her feet through a puddle near her home. Only she wasn’t so little any more. The girl who I’d expected to be four or five was actually closer to eleven or twelve. The only explanation was that I hadn’t seen her in so long, paying her so little attention and time had slipped from me. She was impeccably clothed in a very clean and proper dress, though the bottom was smeared a dark brown. Her sweet hazel eyes sank into thick bags, making her look even older.
“Janey?” I said cautiously, not fully convinced this was she.
Her attention shifted from the muddy puddle to my approaching form.
“Hey Janey? Uh, you probably don’t remember me, but I’m Collin. I’m your neighbour.”
Her eyes widened and crinkled as she smiled. “Mr Collin! Son of Mr and Ms Marks,” she said as if announcing an important duke or king.
“Uh, well yes. I don’t know how you could remember that. You were too young when we visited--”
“Oh no I don’t remember. I just see you and your parents from my window sometimes.”
She looked down as if embarrassed and shifted away slightly. I gave her an encouraging nod of my head.
“Well I see we have an observant one. You some kind of genius, huh?”
Instead of cheering her up like I hoped, the comment seemed to sadden her. “My daddy used to call me a genius…”
I nodded thoughtfully and looked at the extravagant chair nestled in the corner of her porch where railing met the wall of the house. She said “used to.” I wondered if she was fighting with her father or something. I wouldn’t put it past Jonathan Miller to neglect or ignore his daughter.
I realized Jane was walking away from me. I couldn’t let her go because I’d upset her.
“Janey! Please, I’m sorry. Where are you going?”
Jane looked back as I called to her. “Would you follow me, Mr Collin? I just want to show you something.”

Her voice was so soft, so timid, that I would have to have been a monster to deny her quiet request. I nodded gently, starting toward her when she intercepted me and took my hand. Her palms were a bit dirty from the puddle, but I held them nevertheless.

“So Janey, I really would like to know what’s happening with your daddy.”

“Well, Daddy and Mommy fought every day, and it got bad. Michael and Ben said they couldn’t take it anymore and left. Then Daddy said he couldn’t take it anymore and left. Mommy yelled at me a lot after. Then she hired nanny Mary and left.”

I regarded her skeptically from the corners of my eyes. I knew her brothers weren’t the ideal siblings, usually focusing more on their Christian studies rather than familial issues, but I never expected them to abandon their sister. However, her mother and father were rich buggers who thought they could do just about anything. “You mean to tell me you live alone in the house?”

“No that’s not what I mean to tell you. I told you I live with nanny Mary. That’s what I mean to tell you.”

“Woah, ok smarty. Just show me that thing you’re taking me to see.”

She led me up a flight after flight of stairs, her weak legs working up the steps with obvious difficulty. She clearly didn’t get out much. I wanted to help her, but I had the impression she would shove me off if I attempted it. Finally, she rounded a corner into a sparsely decorated room except for the bulky machine on the table. “Ok, here it is.”

“Wow Janey it’s a nice radio.”

“No, listen,” she said with a dismissive shake of her head. She configured something on the control panel and the speakers came alive. I heard a recording of her whole family singing. The same old Christian songs. I realized I had misjudged her age so largely because her voice on the recording was that of a very young girl. It was the recording that played every Thursday.

“Continuing the tradition, Janey?” As I said it, I was very surprised that my eyes were on the verge of watering. I blinked a few times.

“No Mr Collin, I play this to help you,” she said so nonchalantly, as if the statement were obvious. My fingers ticked the space on the side of my head where a stray scar puckered.

“Help me? How do you mean?”

“Thursdays are the days when your mommy and daddy come home at the same time.”

“That’s true. But how does that relate?” I didn’t ask how she knew that.

“When I play the singing, your mommy and daddy don’t fight with eachother. They fight with my mommy and daddy. They don’t remember why they were fighting.”

I’m pretty sure I was crying. I couldn’t explain it, this mixture of heart-wrenching sadness and earth-shattering happiness. I couldn’t decide whether it was horrible or amazing, tragic or beautiful. It made me sick to my stomach, but strangely not in a bad way. I don’t know. I can’t explain it.
Jane tugged on my coat sleeve, drawing me out of my thoughts.

“Mr Collin, it stopped raining.”