CHAPTER SIX
- THEN -
Four years ago
"DAD?" I SAID SOFTLY, padding into the kitchen.
"Hey, sweetheart. Shouldn't you be asleep?" Dad asked, looking up from where he'd been staring down at the mug on the table in front of him. I’d intended to quickly say goodnight, but seeing the morose look on his face, I made my way over to him.
"I was waiting for you to get back," I told him, slipping into the chair beside him. It was freezing cold in the kitchen, and I shivered in my seat as I crossed my arms over my chest.
"You didn’t have to do that. It’s late. You should get some sleep. You have school in the morning," he said, pouring some more coffee into his mug.
"Are you going to bed anytime soon?" I asked, glancing pointedly at the clock. It was almost midnight, and he showed no sign of settling down for the night. He’d probably be up and out the door at five-thirty AM like usual, too. I didn’t know how he’d be able to function tomorrow.
Come to think of it, I didn’t know how I’d be functioning tomorrow either. I hadn’t slept much last night, and it didn’t look like today was going to be any better.
I’d been thinking about Mom all day; it was her birthday today. The first birthday she wasn’t here for. I hadn't wanted the day to go by unacknowledged, but could see that Dad hadn't been up to doing anything. It hurt him too much.
He'd spent the whole day working. In fact, he’d spent most of this week working. Trying to distract himself from thinking too much about today, I was sure.
I’d skipped school and visited Mom’s grave. I’d ended up staying there for hours, just talking to her. God, I missed her so much it hurt.
Needing to see her face, I’d dug around and found Mom and Dad’s wedding tape when I’d gotten back to the apartment. I hadn’t been able to watch more than a few minutes. Seeing her so vibrant, full of life and laughter, and knowing that she was gone, buried beneath the earth, had been too much for me to take.
I’d put the video tape back where I’d found it; in the closet in Dad’s room, along with Mom’s jewelry, perfume, and some items of her clothing. We’d had to get rid of a lot of stuff when we’d moved in. The apartment was a third of the size of our old house. But we’d kept the most important stuff – Mom’s stuff.
"I'm going to bed as soon as I finish this." Dad held up his mug. He tried to smile, but there was sadness in his eyes, lines of sorrow etched onto his face. "You just worry about yourself and that poor attendance of yours."
I winced, guiltily. The school must have called him when I failed to show up today. He didn’t question me further, understanding on his face.
"My attendance isn’t that bad," I said, tracing a scrape on the kitchen table. There were actually dozens of scratches on the wooden oak. Like most of the furniture in our apartment, the table was second hand and not in the best of condition.
It didn’t really matter. This was temporary. At least, that’s what Dad kept saying. He maintained that once our debts were more settled, we'd be able to get a loan and buy another house.
Losing our house, our home, had hit Dad hard. He’d purchased it for Mom shortly after they first got married. That house had been where they’d started their life together, where I’d been born. It had held so many happy memories. It hurt to lose it, hurt to think of others living there.
He’d struggled for years to pay the mortgage while also paying Mom’s medical expenses. The funeral costs had tipped things over the edge. The bank had repossessed the house two months ago and had given us just twenty-four hours to get our things off the property.
Kellan had moved out just a few weeks beforehand into his own apartment. We’d ended up staying there for a few days until Dad was able to sort out a place for us to stay.
Kellan had taken up bounty hunting a couple of months ago, before Mom died. Dad had been completely against the idea at first. I still had no idea what had made him cave, but they worked together now as partners.
This apartment had been the best place he’d been able to find with our limited budget. It was a tiny, dull space with two small bedrooms barely big enough for our beds. There was a little kitchenette in the corner of the living room, and a tiny bathroom that had already flooded twice. The wallpaper on all the walls was peeling pretty badly. The carpet had seen better days. It was a truly awful apartment. The first time I’d stepped into it, I’d wanted to cry.
"I want you at school tomorrow. Okay, April? No more skipping,” Dad said, shaking his head at me. “I wish I was around more, sweetheart. I really do. Then I’d be able to kick your butt out the door every morning.”
“You could try and kick my butt out the door every morning,” I corrected, my lips quirking up into a small smile. It faded quickly. I didn’t like the exhausted look on his face at all. “Don't beat yourself up about it, Dad. It's not your fault. I promise I'll try harder at school.”
"I hope you do, April. You’ve got college to think about. I know it’s years off yet,” he said, seeing the look on my face, “but it’s never too early to start thinking. To start planning. We’ll get you there. It won’t be like how it was for me. I didn’t have anybody. Despite the army covering some of my tuition, I had to take out endless loans. It’ll be different for you. I’ll make sure of it. The future will be better. Brighter," Dad said determinedly, looking around our tiny apartment with resolute eyes.
He wanted to get us of here, out of this situation. I understood that – hell, I wanted that. I just hated that he felt so burdened. I hated that Dad’s stupid insurance company refused to fork out for Mom’s surgery all those years ago. And I hated that college was so expensive.
“Maybe you should cool it with the caffeine before bed, Dad,” I said gently. “We’ve got plenty of time before we need to start worrying about college.”
Dad blinked. “You’re right. Look at me being a Debby Downer. Sorry for going off on a tangent. How about we go to the bowling alley tomorrow? Well, today, seeing as it’s past midnight. We haven’t been in ages. We can stop by at the pizza place downtown on the way. What do you say, kiddo?”
“Don’t you have to work?” I asked, even as I lit up inside at the thought of getting to spend some time with Dad. He’d been gone so much lately.
“Eh.” He shrugged, smiling. “Work can wait.”