Piece by Piece

Chapter 25

Aliena (11 years ago)

"Aliena, Honey, is the food almost done?" my father asks as soon as he returns from work. My heart rate picks up at the sound of his voice and nearing footsteps but I'm not scared, just nervous that I did something wrong.

Daddy works hard all day so we can keep living at home, finance mommy's medicine, and have food in the fridge for me to prepare, it's the least I can do to do my chores right. I want to make them right and make dad happy. He deserves as much. I know he is stressed because mom is still not feeling better after so many years of being sick and I'm happy to ease his stress.

"I'm plating it right now," I shout back, hurrying up just enough not to mess up. When I am done with the plates, I carry two to the tables and sit down opposite dad, eager to see his reaction. I think I'm pretty good in the kitchen, I had to learn my way around over the years and try to get better by watching cooking videos whenever I have the time. Still, there are always butterflies in my stomach when I wait for dad to take his first bite.

Before he picks up the fork, he says, "Thanks, Honey. Did you make enough for mommy?"

"Yes, her plate is in the kitchen," I tell him. I'll have to beg her to eat some of it later. She rarely has an appetite because she occasionally sneaks into the kitchen during the day to snack. It comes and goes in waves. She never eats with us.

"Has she eaten anything so far?" he asks.

"No," I say, hating that that is the answer. I know daddy doesn't want to hear that. He sighs and nods to himself, pushing his chair away from the table again.

"I'll check in with her and bring her her food. You should eat while it's hot," he tells me, forcing a tired smile, but I'm already getting to my feet anyway.

"Let me do it. You only just got home, dad. Eat, please. I'll take care of mommy," I say.

If anything, my words seem to make him even sadder, and my heart grows cold. I hate how tired he looks. There are days when he looks almost as sick as mommy, and it scares me.

"Okay. Thank you, Honey. You're a blessing," he says, sitting back down. At least now, the pressure in my chest eases again. Daddy starts eating and I go back into the kitchen.

Upstairs, I enter my mom's dark room and turn on the bedside lamp before sitting down on the chair next to her bed. "Mom, it's time for dinner," I tell her softly. She's sleeping and doesn't react. I lean over to shake her bony arm.

"Mommy, you haven't eaten all day. Come on." She still doesn't stir and my shoulders slump slightly in resignation. Yeah, I'll be here for a while. Maybe I'll get to eat dinner with daddy tomorrow.

-

By the time I go back downstairs, daddy is asleep on the couch. The tightness in my chest has returned by then and it's only getting worse. It happens often that daddy tries to stay awake in the evening to spend some time with me, so he stays downstairs instead of going to bed. In the end, he can't help but fall asleep, and then he wakes up with bad muscle aches.

I never know what to do. I don't want to wake him up but I also hate that he's in pain because of me. I've told him before that he should just go to sleep in his bed if he's tired but he said he looks forward to seeing his little girl all day and doesn't want to miss it for another 24 hours.

He never learns.

I make the dishes as quietly as possible and clean the kitchen with the same care. Then, I eat a few bites of my cold food before packing up the rest for dad to take to work the next day. I didn't get the ratio quite right today because mom had unpredictably much appetite. It's okay though, I'm not hungry and dad needs the food more than I do.

If I eat really slowly and drink a glass of water beforehand, anything can make me feel stuffed, no matter how small the amount.

After cleaning and drying my plate, I cover dad with a blanket before heading into my room where I finish folding all the laundry I haven't done yet. Earlier, I washed all the bedsheets and towels that have been used. Then I did all our dirty clothes, which took so many turns that it took all day.

By the time I'm all done, my eyelids are nearly too heavy to keep open. I fall back onto my bed like a sack of potatoes and curl up in a ball, mentally going through the list of things I had to do today and checking them off. Between attending a few lessons at school, finishing my homework, taking care of mommy, doing laundry, and preparing dinner, it was a busy day. I'm just glad I didn't stupidly forget something.

I grab a crumpled edge of my blanket and pull it over me, huffing in annoyance when I realize I'm lying on a part of it which means I have to move.

I do so, cover myself up to my nose, and let my eyes glide over my messy room. It's funny how I make sure the whole house is neat and clean but I cannot seem to do the same with my room. The space is smaller, so it should be easy. But the mess keeps reappearing, and sometimes, I just can't be bothered to make it disappear. I'm the only one that's ever in here, after all, so it really doesn't matter.

Everything that only concerns me isn't important. Not with all the urgent things going on in this house.

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I have nothing to say other than wishing u a brilliant day<3