King

One

Unedited

Mom made too much for dinner again.

An extra chicken breast, another half can of peas and two more bags of mashed potatoes. She was thinking of him again.

SHe had me come help her set the table at a quarter to five, when he'd usually be meeting dad by the old post office on Greenwood. We'd lay out the plastic white table covering, the one with the blue bunnies and flowers patterned around the edges. It was mom's favorite, she always said it reminded her of a mat my Nana owned when she was little.

We set the table with a paint splattered vase and a few chipped plates mom had scored at a house sale. Hehad found that vase for mom, just lying on the side of the road on our way back from classes one day. Mom hadn't known what to do with it at first, putting it on a shelf with all the rest of the weird things he liked to collect. It was the last thing he'd given her. She treasured it now, adding it to the table at every meal as if it were him.

By 5:30 mom was pulling the chicken from the oven and setting it down on the table next to the sides she'd made.Five minutes later dad would walk through the door, briefcase in his left hand and his silver flask in his right. If things were normal HE would walk in behind him. All smiles and sunshine in comparison to dad's gloomy gray cloud.

But things were not normal and dad was an hour late for dinner.

Mom sat in her rocking chair, delicate chocolate brown hands fiercely knitting a new pair of socks. Our little red clock ticked in the background and I tapped my fingers in the same rhythm.

"He should be here by now." She finally scoffed and the clicking of her needles stopped. I looked up at the clock. 6:40. My stomach grumbled in an aching reminder I hadn't eaten since this morning and I sighed. My mother's dark eyes snapped towards me and I looked away. " What?" She said, an edge to her voice. The same edge she'd had for the last five years. The same edge that cut me like knives and made my heart ache like it had everyday since the last time any of us has seen him.

"Nothing." I mumbled as my stomach grumbled and I heard her mumble under her breath about disrespect. A moment later there was a jingling at the front door and she tossed down her knitting.

A few seconds later my father was opening the door,leaning into the room slowly. His eyes were hooded and the heavy scent of alcohol told us all we needed to know of his tardiness.

"David." Mom said, pushing herself out of her chair and rushing over to him. I nearly rolled my eyes as she wrapped her arm around his waist, attempting to help him into the living room of our little apartment. No sooner that she wrapped an arm around him did he push her away.

I watched as her dark eyes welled with tears before hardening, narrowing into slits as he leaned against the side table we kept by the door to balance himself.

"You're fucking late. Again. Amira hasn't even had the chance to eat and you know she has work tomorrow." She hissed and I bit back a laugh. She didnt care.

Dad ignored her statement as he drunkenly stumbled into the room. He didn't bother shutting the door behind him as he tried to tug off his navy blue suit jacket. I stood to help him, it was the only jacket he owned and we couldn't afford to have him ruin it. Unlike my mother he accepted my help. Behind him I saw mom slam the door and turn the two locks into place as she started in on dad. As she had done for the last five years.

I braced myself as a large dark brown hand came to my shoulder. Dad squeezed it, using me like he'd used the table to stabilize himself as he attempted to stagger towards his brown leather recliner. Another gem he had found that my parents now treasured in his absence. I walked slowly over to the chair, accustomed to the pace of his walk and his dead weight.