I looked down at my freshly painted acrylic nails. My heart was racing and my palms were sweating. Although I was having a good time. It was time for me to get out with it. I needed to just spit it out. It's a question that's been lingering in my mi...
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"Dad! Put it down NOW!" My sister Beverly screamed at our father as if he was one of her insubordinate children.
He froze at the doorway. He knew he was caught. There was no use in lying or running away. He had to brace himself for the tiny woman with a fiery temper to reprimand him for his bad deed.
"What's in that bag?" Her piercing voice screeched through the living room. I'm sure the neighbors from across the street could have heard that deafening screech.
The furious look in her eye even had me take a couple of steps back. Beverly is one of the craziest women I've ever met. Growing up with an older sister with an intense temper like hers is something I would not wish on my worst enemy.
My dad looked over at me and we held eye contact for a few seconds. He was pleading for help. I was not going to get in the middle of their heated exchange. No fucking way!
"Bevy, I am a grown man and I am your father, I cannot take orders from you." He said in his thick Spanish accent trying to stand up for himself.
Good try dad.
I don't know how dad takes Beverly seriously. At his 6'5 build, he towers over her small frame of 5'3. He had a brown bag in his hand, and we all know that he snuck off to get himself a cheeseburger. A cheeseburger that he knows good and very well that he is not allowed to eat.
"I'm a serious dad! The doctor said you can't eat that stuff." She shouted as she aggressively ran her hand through that dreaded short "mom" haircut she's been sporting for the past four years.
"I feel like I'm in prison. I should have died from that heart attack!" Our dad scoffed angrily.
I raised an eyebrow. I cannot believe he just said that.
"DAD!" Beverly screamed in horror.
There is no way he was going to go unscathed for that careless statement.
Beverly handed me her three-year-old son, Maverick, and charged at our father like a mad woman. She grabbed the bag of burgers from his hand and angrily threw it in the trash.
"I made you some steamed cabbage and chicken breast. You can have that." "Mierda!"
Dad looked over at me, and he looked like he was about to cry. Beverly has him on a strict exercise and diet plan. It was an eye-opening moment when he had a heart attack last year. He nearly died from it. Beverly is a nutcase, but in this situation, it's justified. I can say with absolute certainty that anything happening to either of my parents would crush me.
Both of my parents immigrated here from Mexico. They are the hardest-working people I know. I owe everything I have to them.
"I hate it here!" Dad huffed like an aggravated teenager while marching to the kitchen to have the bland meal Beverly had just prepared.
