Moving Forward

Chapter Eight

A dark storm cloud hovered me, making goosebumps wreck my skin. I stared, my eyes penetrating his suitcase. That could never be anything good.

Then Anya's faint voice sounded again. "Mals? Are you OK? I think he's waiting for you."

My mouth went dry.

I turned, peering at her large brown eyes.

"Uh... Mals, are you crying?" She shook me, snapping her fingers and waving it across my face.

"Let's go..." I whispered. I couldn't even get it out loud enough without my voice breaking.

"Mals you need to know what he wants. Maybe you should just talk to him."

I shook my head, "No... reverse and get me out of here!" Whenever one of my parents visited, it always meant trouble. It always meant something bad or something that would make me hate them all over again. I hadn't seen my dad since my mom kicked him out of our family home.

"I'm not going to do that Mals... See what he wants... At least. If you're still not comfortable I'll take you out of here."

I glanced at dad and then at her. She gave her head a small jerk toward him.

My dad had a drinking problem and blew out most of our savings to feed his nasty habit. That was one of the many reasons why my mom kicked him out. The drinking started a few months after Malik died and only got worse from there.

There was one time he hit mom because she hid our emergency money from him. That was her realization. Though he swore to never hit her again, she couldn't have dealt with what he had become. When I left, she decided that he needed to go also.

I sat there wondering what he could have wanted because I didn't have any space for him to stay. He looked sober, but that could be another trick up his sleeves. I got out of the car--my feet wobbling beneath me-- and slowly moved towards him. "D-dad?"

He looked up, meeting my eyes. Sadness and regret etched his face, "Honey, I'm sorry."

I looked back at Anya who seemed to still be urging me to move forward. She couldn't have left because my groceries were in the car. I felt trapped and didn't know what to do. I knew I had to do something about the groceries because my tub of ice cream and other dairy products would melt in the blazing sun.

I ignored the knot in my stomach and reached for the door, opening it. "H-have a seat inside d-dad..."

He watched me with those doleful eyes of his, looking broken and torn. But that could be another tactic of his. I took a deep breath and started towards the car to offload the groceries. Anya came out and helped, but she didn't go inside. Instead, she left them on my doorstep for me to carry in thereafter. When we're finished, she left, leaving me with a heavy feeling on my chest. I didn't want to go inside because I feared what my dad had to say.

"Maliah?" he called. "Do you want me to help you with these?" He took four bags and carried it to the kitchen without awaiting my response.

I sighed, grabbing the remaining bags, and closed the door with my foot. My eyes locked on to the medium-sized suitcase by his side. Did he really think he could stay here? How did he even know where I lived, anyway? I let out an inner sigh, mom. Taking a seat on the dining chair opposite him, I waited patiently on him to say something.

When he didn't after two minutes, I decided to go first. "Why are you here?"

"I... I ah..." he scratched his head. "I've been sober for two months but I lost my job three months ago. I was owing rent for five months because I had to feed my terrible terrible habit..."

"I don't have any space for you," I said blurted out. I wanted to dismiss any ideas he had about staying here. This was a one-bedroom shack and my couch was not up for grabs.

"I know," he held his head down.

He hadn't shaved in a while and looked scruffy. His clothes had stains and he looked visibly smaller than I remembered him. "So then, why are you here?"

"I came to apologize for my behavior over the past years and to let you know that I love you and your mother."

I knew he loved us but I still wasn't sure why he was here. He seemed like he was stalling, so I asked the question again.

"I was wondering if..." he paused and took a deep breath before he continuing. "If you can float me two grand so I can get back on my feet."

I knew it! "What?"

"I have no cash and I need a place to stay. I really need it, honey."

I had the funds, but I wasn't sure if it would be the right thing to give him the money. I'd seen him in action with large sums of cash and he would blow it out within an hour. I stood from the chair and paced to the kitchen sink to fetch water from the filter. I gulped two glasses in one sitting.  He looked fine and didn't wreak of alcohol like always, but that little buddy in my mind told me no.

"What about mom?" I knew it was a stupid question, but I asked anyway.

"Maliah, your mom hasn't spoken to me since she kicked me out. I tried calling her countless times and she refused my calls. One time I showed up home and she threatened to call the police."

I folded my arms. There must be another way, I thought to myself. Giving him money would not help the situation.

"Are you looking for a job?" I asked.

"I already found one at a supermarket as their goods driver. Well, not exactly their driver... I sit in the passenger seat and help out." He scratched his head, "I just need a place to stay so I could get my act together."

Think Maliah think! "Where do you have in mind?"

He told me about a reasonable apartment not far from here, and that the rent was a thousand dollars but he had to pay a security deposit. He sounded convincing, but my gut still told me no.

"If I loan you the cash wouldn't you need more to survive? Like, getting stuff to eat and toiletries?"

He shrugged and didn't say anything. I shook my head. This wasn't going to work, not my hard-earned cash. Strolling over to my purse, I took out my phone to call mom. I knew it was a bad idea but it didn't hurt to try.

"Hello? Maliah? Is something wrong?" she answered on the first ring.

...

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