Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
All that's left is getting out of the damn car. Taking a breath, I open the door and pull the two brimful bags from the back seat. What am I going to find? I shudder to think about it. He could have spiraled worse than ever after that fight or taken it as a sign that he needed to turn things around. I know better than to assume the latter, but I can still hope, right?
As I approach the house, I can tell the front porch has been swept recently—a good sign. I press my finger to the bell and squint, trying to see through the curtain hanging in front of the glass cut-out. There's movement on the other side, and before I can step back, the lock clicks and the door opens. I hold my breath. Waiting. Hoping.
On the other side, I find my father. He's showered, shaved, and dressed in a clean t-shirt and jeans. His eyes are clear rather than bloodshot and glassy when they travel over me from head to toe. “What are you doing here?”
At least his snappy question crushes the emotion swelling in my chest, or else I may have burst into tears of relief at finding him looking better than he has in weeks. “I'm going door-to-door with bags of groceries, seeing if anybody wants to take them.”
“I really don't need the sarcasm.”
“Dad, obviously, I'm bringing groceries to ensure you have what you need.”
“You don't have to do that.”
“I know, but I want to.”
“When did you get it into your head that I need you to take care of me? No, don't answer that.” He shakes his head, scowling. “Is this really what you think I am? Some hopeless loser who needs his daughter to bring food to him?”
“You're putting words in my mouth that weren't there, Dad.” I make a big deal of craning my neck to look over his shoulder. “And unless I'm interrupting something, maybe I could come inside and unload some of this food? I got your favorite ice cream and those frozen waffles you like. They're thawing out as we speak.”
“I'm a sucker for rocky road.” He steps aside to let me in. It's a relief to find the house looking good, neat, and clean without so much as a beer bottle in sight. I didn't tell him I was on my way, so it's not like he tidied up for my sake.
Could he have turned a corner?
One thing I can't do is make a big deal out of it. I pretend not to notice, heading straight for the kitchen. “Have you eaten lunch yet?”
“I have a more important question for you.” He makes a big deal of checking his watch, and right away, I know what's coming. Just need to brace myself for it.
“Okay, alright, I know what you're going to say. Why am I not at work at one o'clock in the afternoon.”
“That is roughly what I was concerned with, yes.” He leans against the counter, his arms folded, while I continue to put away the groceries. “I'm waiting.”
“I am not working there anymore.”
“Knew they would have a problem with all these absences. Not that I'm saying it's your fault.”
“Honestly, no. That's not what happened.” With the freezer door open between us, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. After closing it, I force myself to look him in the eye. “I quit. I walked away.”
“You what?” His wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression is pretty close to what I expected. The cherry on top is the way his face begins to flush. He brings to mind one of those old Bugs Bunny cartoons where a character's good and mad—and once the color reaches the top of their head, their hat flies off or something like that. He's not wearing a hat. I hope his head doesn't explode.
“Let me explain, at least?”
“What is there to explain? You're throwing your entire future away a little bit at a time. One poor decision after another.”
“Don't make me regret coming here, Dad,” I whisper while my chin quivers as I fight back tears. “Please. I don't want to fight.”
“Okay, okay,” he grumbles, holding up both hands. “I don't want you crying over it.”
“It's like I can't predict my emotions anymore.”
“Yes, I guess you would be fighting with that right now. I remember your mom's mood swings.” Then, his brows draw together and his hands close around my arms. “What are you not telling me? Is everything alright with the baby? Is that why you quit your job?”
“No, no.” I shake my head, touched at the sudden change. Though I am sorry his mind went in that direction. “I'm just fine. I went to the doctor last week, and he said everything was right on track. You'll have a grandbaby in March.”