“Delete Andy’s number from your dad’s phone.”
I breathe sharply out.
“I know it’s fucked, but doing both will prevent Andy from getting spiteful and doing something stupid.”
I bite my lip and nod. “I’ll try.”
I hitch a breath when Dad’s car headlights shine on Sammy and me. I step forward, leave Sammy there, and head toward the car. As I open it and wave to her, I flick a look towards whereConner parked. I can tell he’s glaring, even knowing it is a fair distance away. Lowering my gaze, I enter the car and head home with my dad.
54
SUNDAY
It’s quiet today.Last night, after I sent Conner a message that I was going to bed, I expected the hurricane. I expected something, but Dad never went out on Saturday night, and I thought he would because on Friday night he was sober when he picked me up.
When we got inside the house, I expected him to yell at me, but he ushered me away and watched TV. It made me more nervous about him staying home than ever when he went out to drink.
I lay in bed longer than expected when Mum calls my name, telling me dinner is ready. I flinch, sit up and tuck my phone underneath my pillow. Since Friday night, Mum has knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to have dinner with them. Her choice of words waslike a family. I didn’t want to, but I had to weigh the possibility of Dad snapping if I declined.
Dragging my hands through my hair, I glare at my room. They pretend nothing is wrong, as if nothing happens in this home. Like we’re a happy family. It’s unnerving. I can’t sleep at night, thinking Dad will barge into my room and hurt me at any moment.
I touch the Band-Aid on my finger. Iknowit’s real. They can act however they want. The remnants of what he has done are marked on me, unable to fade away. He can’t just think that everything that’s happened can disappear, and we play happy families now.
However, I’ll play their games. The reason… well, I need as much peace as possible before I leave Friday. I’ll make them believe I am part of this family. All the while, I set my eyes on a better dream.
I open the door. Mum is placing pasta into Dad’s bowl. Beside him is a can of beer. I still expect the worst. Hesitantly, I creep toward them. I ball my hands into fists, and my legs are ready to bolt back into my bedroom and lock the door if he looks at me with hate.
Mum slides the bowl of pasta towards me when I sit on the other side of the table. I cringe at the smell. It’s what I’ve been smelling all my life, yet it’s what Dad likes. Therefore, I don’t have a choice but to eat it.
Mum sighs with contentment when she sits down. I eye her when she eats. I expect her to croak. That Dad somehow snuck some poison in there. Yet, she keeps eating, and Dad eats and drinks. We don’t talk. The only sound is our breathing and the forks clinking against the bowls.
What do I say in this situation? How do I talk to parents I’ve not spoken to in years? That’s the thing. There’s nothing to say. There’s no reason for me to be here, eating with them while they watch a football game I’ve never even watched before.
“Noya,” Mum calls my name. I glare up at her, dart a look at Dad watching me, and then at Mum again. “Did you want any salt or cheese?”
I look down at my barely eaten food. I had four mouthfuls and then felt the sickness of repetitively eating something I had hated for years. I set down my fork, reach for the cheese in thecentre of the table, and sprinkle some on before taking another bite. Mum smiles, and Dad returns to eating his food while watching football.
What kind of parallel fucking universe have I entered?
“I’ll fix your window sometime next week,” Dad suddenly says.
I raise my brows while taking another bite of the pasta. “Pardon?”
“Your window is jammed,” he states. “I tried opening it to bring more air into your room, but it wouldn’t budge. I’ll do it after your birthday.”
I furrow my brow while staring at my food. Is there something wrong with my window?
“I can have a look and get supplies at work tomorrow afternoon.”
“No!” Dad snaps.
I flinch, stiffening while keeping my eyes on my food.
Dad exhales a hiss of breath. “I will get someone to look at it next Tuesday. As for work… I will take you.”
My brows shoot up. “What?”
“I’m taking you to school and work from now on.”