❣︎ T W E N T Y ~ S I X ❣︎

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My hand hits the hard cold wooden door a few times before it swings open

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My hand hits the hard cold wooden door a few times before it swings open. A smile shines my way as I walk into the house.

"Hi, Dad."

I haven't been over in a while because my mom making this place her new temporary home but there's no reason Dad should have to suffer.

I called a few days ago and asked if we could have dinner together like old times. Sitting around the big screen TV while shitty romcoms play out. Cartons of Chinese takeout scattered around us.

It had been a while since we did something just to do it. Just to forget about everything.

"Hey, babycakes. Come in. I already ordered the food. It should be here in a few minutes." his warm smile shines bright enough to distract the drivers on the freeway. His long shoulder-length hair tied back in a loose man bun.

I step further into the house trying to seem unbothered by the feminine touches around the foyer.

Purses, random heels, a makeup bag. Dad seems to notice my uncomfortable search of the room for my mother.

I hear him sigh. "She isn't here." I turn around, taking in Dad's defeated look. His eyes trained on the purse on the hall table. It looks expensive. I'm guessing he bought it for her.

Dad isn't rich. He's far from it. As a kid, he struggled to get me the things that I wanted. Like dance classes. The only reason I was able to go to Credence University was because he is a teacher there. He's worked there for half his life.

He became a sub at the age of 23 but was soon promoted to a permanent teacher. Literature. He loves literature.

Since he's been a loyal employee he somehow put in a good word for me plus the dance scholarship.
I wouldn't be where I am without my dad.

Sure Dad is stable, now, but he wasn't always able to afford fancy purses and heels. Mom wasn't a lot of help when I turned 7. She had lost her job at a law firm and she took it pretty hard.

Turned to drugs. She'd sneak Dad's money behind his back and then disappear for weeks only to return saying she was looking for jobs. Once she realized it wasn't fooling anyone she gave up on making excuses.

Dad tried to get her help because he loved her. Like really loved her. She'd go into therapy for a few days and then say she was fine. Cured of whatever addiction she had.

It became too much for me to sit and wait for her to come back to take her place as a mother. It became too much to watch Dad drag himself into the dirt for her all because he loved her.

Still does. That's why he was hoping she'd actually changed this time.

"She uh, hast been back for about two weeks." I give Dad a look of sympathy.

I hold back on saying I told you so. I can see the heavy pain in his eyes. The way his shoulders slump. He wanted it to work. He wished it would work.

Now isn't the time to gloat about how right I was.

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