by Sheri Duff
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At the end of my day, I sneak in the front door of the Trask home and find Alicia curled up under a beige throw, crying on the couch. She has papers in one hand and tissues in the other. I step back, hoping she doesn’t discover me, but Buster gives me away. He leaps off the couch, then slides to the front of the house, barking. Loki stays curled on Alicia’s lap.
“Oh, dang it, what time is it?” Alicia drops the used tissue into her lap and looks down at her watch.
“Six thirty.” I don’t move closer. I look to the stairs and eye the door to my room, only my feet stick to the floor like suction cups on a Nerf gun. I can’t move.
“I didn’t make dinner.” She attempts to stand.
“Don’t worry, I’m not hungry,” I say.
I would help her but I can’t cook. My mom can’t either. My mom and I live on salads, turkey sandwiches, steamed vegetables with pasta, and yogurt. When there isn’t food at the house, I live at The Burrito Bar. I eat the frozen dinners my mom has stashed only in an emergency.
“Your dad needs to eat,” she says. She moves the papers to the side and picks up the dog from her lap and gently sets Loki on the floor. The sound of the garage door rattles the house. The flood in Alicia’s eyes overflows. This time she sobs. Uncontrollable sobs. I don’t think she’s getting any air.
I hear my father’s footsteps enter the kitchen, and then the sound of binders hitting the kitchen table followed by keys. My dad walks into the living room. “Alicia? Are we eating—” he stops talking once he sees the red in her eyes and the liquid falling down her face.
My father rushes to his wife and pulls her into his arms. He looks at me, confused.
I shake my head unknowing. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”
Alicia points to me and tries to talk.
My dad blows up. “What the hell did you do, Massie?”
“I didn’t do anything. I just got home.” I back up.
“Dammit, Massie!” He lets go of her and tosses his baseball cap onto the floor. “Alicia has tried so hard to make this transition easy on you. She’s the one who picked out all your bedroom crap. I thought we could use the twin bed we had from the apartment. She insisted you receive the next biggest room after ours. I wanted to use it for a den. Alicia’s own father has a smaller room than you. Alicia’s always hounding me to leave you alone. To give you space. She accused me of forcing her on you. And now you’ve made her cry.”
I don’t even try to fight back. I run to my room and shove my things into my suitcase. Alicia’s sobs are no longer audible when I reach the bottom of the stairs, probably because I can’t hear anything through my own crying. I go straight to the front door. I’m not going through that battlefield again.
The garage door remains open. Dad forgot to shut it. I throw my suitcase in the trunk, hop into my car, slam the door shut, and then I peel out of this hellhole.
My dad races out the front door and chases me. I flip the rearview mirror up so I don’t see him when I look back. Crap. I forgot the dog.
There are a few things I can count on with my father:
1. He’s an idiot.
2. He doesn’t want anyone to know he’s an idiot.
3. He’ll go out of his way to cover up his idiocy.
I drive my butt home. I don’t care that I’m alone. It’s safe and my father will leave me be, at least until my mom finds out. This will take a few days. My father will not tell my mom that I burned rubber getting away from him and his over-hormonal wife.
Crap, Alicia’s probably pregnant. Isn’t that what pregnant women do, cry all the time? That’s what Natalie’s stepmom did when she was pregnant.
I shiver when I open the door. My mom left the heat at fifty degrees. I pump up the thermostat and stuff my body underneath the covers to my mom’s bed, which doesn’t help much. I wish I had a heating blanket.
