Broken Mirror

Chapter Fourteen: Terrible Rewards

Breakfast the next morning was a drab, glum affair in which no one spoke a single word to anyone, not even Maggie who had returned to her normal bubbly, talkative nature yesterday and I assumed she had now learned about last night's events.

Father wasn't present at the table and I knew he probably still felt some waning effects of his alcohol induced state.

I felt guilty about his absence as I remembered his anger and depression from last night present in his words still ringing in my ears and they preyed heavily upon my mind.

Momma mournfully sipped a cup of tea as she blankly stared at a newspaper laying in front of her and it seemed to me she was in too deep of a trance to even be reading the words before her. She was still worn and tired looking, her eyes droopy and red and her face was a light-gray color instead of its usual, pink tone.

Both Maggie and I tried to talk to Momma about her appearance and we suggested she get some rest herself, but she continued to insist she was fine and nothing was amiss.

After breakfast Maggie went back to ignoring me as she had before I had gotten ill as if she suddenly remembered all of my terrible misdeeds and actions. She shut herself in her room and despite my efforts and constant knocking on her door she refused to allow me entrance.

When I was sure Momma's presence wasn't near, I crossed the upstairs landing to our parents' bedroom and put my ear up to the door to listen for traces of father's movements.

At first, I couldn't hear a sound, but as I strained my ears I could faintly make out low, whining noises followed by sniffling.

My heart leapt into my throat and my breathing became shallow and fast as realization struck me hard and I knew father was unable to cope with my behavior. Without thinking of the outcomes or consequences I slowly turned the doorknob and quietly pushed the door open with as little movement I could possibly make. I wanted to rush inside the room, jump onto the bed, and after bringing father into a hug, explain the reasons for my actions, but I restrained myself. I still hadn't freed my family from harm and I had remained silent for all this time and I couldn't break it now not even to console my broken father.

The room was pitch black except for the beam of light coming from behind me in the hallway which shot out in a triangle across the carpet in front of me. Using this light, I squinted to make out objects in the room. My eyes eventually came to a rest upon the bed at the far side of the space and I could make out father's outline under a layer of blankets.

He wasn't moving, but his crying was now louder and more defined than it had been when I listened through the closed door.

I cautiously stepped further inside, daring to get closer to where my father lay sounding like a wounded animal. The floorboards beneath my feet let out a creaking moan and I stopped dead in my tracks and I glanced at father, but it seemed as if he hadn't heard a thing as he continued his sobbing.

When I got halfway inside the room father finally spoke in a low whisper barely audible over the sounds of his sniffing,

"Claire?"

I couldn't answer his call for he would know I wasn't Momma and he would most likely wish me away before I got the chance to say anything to him.

"Claire?" he repeated in his frail, despairing voice, "Is that you?"

When only more silence answered him, he shifted in the bed and a lamp suddenly flickered on revealing my presence to him.

His eyes grew wide, he swallowed hard, and opened his mouth, but he was lost for words. His hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions and his eyes were red and swollen giving him an appearance telling me he hadn't been able to get much sleep.