Thank You, For Everything

Letters

It was as if Hal had never lived in the house; all of his stuff had been thrown away, he was removed from all the photos, and any decor he brought was now smashed to pieces.

Yet, there he was. Standing in the dining room like he owned the place - well, he still did really, the bills did come out of his bank account. But Alice vowed to change that. Seriously, could she not catch a break? FP had shouted at her and now her cheating bastard husband was in the same room as her. Jesus, it was like the world wanted her head to explode from stress. Betty was sitting in one of the chairs awkwardly looking at anything but them. The clock on the wall was suddenly interesting, ticking away, minding its own business as if a screaming match wasn't about to happen.

Before Alice was able to say a word to her daughter, Hal was practically ordering her to go upstairs. She should slap him. She wanted to, he deserved it. But, unfortunately, Hal was prone to getting away with things and dragging her through the mud in the process. So, even if that piece of shit did deserve a slap to the face, he'd turn her into the villain and Alice would come out of it worse off. She knew she had control issues, but Hal? He controlled people by manipulating them, and him ordering Betty upstairs was a prime example. He wanted to remind both Alice and Betty that he still owned the house. That he was still part of the family, whether Alice liked it or not.

Well, Alice couldn't have that. She knew his tricks. All of them, and they were boring. She decided not to give him the satisfaction of screaming and screeching at him and, instead, she walked right past him.

Go to the kitchen, make coffee for herself, and completely ignore him: the silent treatment always riled him up more than arguments, and Alice knew that. He was talking at her by now - obviously, because that man loved the sound of his own voice, orally and on paper. Every time he wrote an article for the Register she'd have to edit out at least five hundred words. Alice drowned him out and sipped her coffee while scrolling through social media on her phone.

Betty this, Polly that. Something about being a "proper family." She could slam her phone down and remind him that "proper families" don't need a mother or father. Children with single parents - or two mothers or two fathers - turned out just fine. Her mother killed herself when Alice was twelve and she turned out just fine. Well, almost fine. But that's not the point, the point is that Hal can't just waltz up to her and give her a lecture on how to raise a family because she's the one who's done most of the work raising the girls.

"Did you not hear me? I apologised," Hal said.

Alice finally looked at him, "well, you can take your empty apology and shove it up your ass."

Hal took a deep breath, as if he was forcing himself not to slap her. Alice raised an eyebrow. He reluctantly took a step towards her and sighed.

"I made a mistake, and I'm sorry," he said and he looked at her expectantly and carried on when she didn't reply, "I acted out of anger, Alice, it's not my fault if my emotions got the better of me."

Alice scoffed, "I've been angry at you plenty of times and I've never cheated."

She downed the rest of her coffee and opened the fridge. Chic was working late tonight so she only needed to make a meal for two. Or she could make a meal for three and put some aside for him: then again Chic normally got Pop's after work so it's not like she needed to make him any dinner. And if it was just her and Betty was there really any point in cooking at all? Betty had bolted out the house crying earlier today and Alice still didn't have an answer as to why. Surely takeaway would make her feel better. So, no home cooked meal, instead it was to be a takeaway meal - and hopefully a heart to heart with her daughter where Betty would actually confide in her. She shut the fridge and continued to scroll through social media.