“Macie!” I shout over the alarm as I shake her, practically pulling her out of her bed. “Come on, kiddo, we have to get out!”
I grab her hand and yank, dragging her from the bed and running down the hall with her, carefully and quickly trailing down the stairs before I push her out the front door.
“Wait on the sidewalk, okay?”
I don’t wait for her response before I run back into the house, following the trail of thick, heavy smoke to find its source: a pan of what I think used to be scrambled eggs, now blackened char, sitting on the stove with the burner cranked to full heat.
I reach for the knob to turn the burner off and throw on a set of oven mitts before picking up the pan and taking it out to the back yard, tossing it into the snow, resulting in a loud hiss and a thick cloud of steam rising up from the ground.
Hands braced on my knees, I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves – and to douse the flameof rage that has bellowed up inside of me. I walk through the house, opening windows as I go, until I make it out to the front where Macie is waiting for me. Dad’s car is nowhere to be seen as I wrap my arms around my sister and hold her while she cries.
“It’s okay, kiddo,” I tell her, stroking her hair. “There’s no fire. I thought there was. I’m so sorry I scared you.”
“Where’s Daddy?”
Brushing a tear away from her eye, I slather saccharine sweetness into my voice to cover the sharp bitterness of my anger. “He’s not home. He just forgot to shut off the stove, it was a mistake. He’s safe.”
That last part might be a lie. If he was already drunk enough to forget about his breakfast, he’s drunk enough to kill someone, or himself, behind the wheel. Christmas is in two days – if he’s dead in a ditch somewhere, I will bring him back to life just to kill him myself for doing that to my sister.
I pull her away from me by her shoulders and look into her tear-filled blue eyes. “Why don’t I call out of work today, huh? You can take the day off school, too. We’ll go get breakfast.”
“Daddy too?”
“No, his breakfast is waiting for him when he gets home. Just a sister day.”
He can eat his fucking charcoal if he’s hungry.
I send Macie upstairs to get changed while I find the switch for the smoke detector and turn off the horrible screeching sound it makes, before heading up to my room to get myself dressed. I throw on a long sleeved shirt and an oversized sweater, then plop down onto the foot of my bed to pull on my compression stockings, tracing a finger over the scalloped edge of them. It’s such a small detail, a silly frill, but it makes me feel good in them. They feel so much less…clinical.
Tossing a pair of jeans over them, I look in the mirror on top of my dresser and nod at the final outfit. I pull my hair over one shoulder and tie it into a quick braid, securing the end with a scrunchie that, thankfully, matches my sweater.
I’m so angry with my dad. He’s already broken my heart more times than I care to even think of over the past three years; the first time was when we buried our mother and he picked up a bottle instead of his crying daughters. The second was the first time he started screaming at me. The screaming hasn’t stopped, and the insults and harsh words have only gotten worse.
I think, after everything, I might actually hate him. I want to, at least.
Macie flies into my room, giving me a twirl to show off how well she dressed herself, and I plaster on a big smile for her.
“You did so good, Mace!” I tell her as I stand, moving to grab the handle of my cane.
•
“What do you think, kid, pancakes?” I ask, setting down my menu.
Macie shakes her head and shoves her kids menu toward me, pointing to an item on it. “What does that one say?”
I help her sound it out:buh-ell-jin wuh-ah-fulz. She twists her face up, thinking, then shakes her head. “What’s that one?”
We work our way down the menu, sounding out each item, until she finally settles on a stack of pancakes topped with whipped cream and a ‘super mega load’ of rainbow sprinkles.
I watch with pride as she orders her own food and drink, finding myself near tears, just because of the fact thatshe found such a simple joy after such a scary wake up call. I would give anything to put the world on a platter in front of her and give her a normal, truly happy life.One day, kiddo. I promise.
Our drinks are delivered – a grown-up sized chocolate milk for Macie and a water for me – and we pull out the activity sheet that came with her menu and dive into a competitive game of tic-tac-toe.
“I think the Os are definitely going to win,” a smooth, deep voice says over my shoulder.
There’s no way.
I turn to face the source of the voice, taking in Colt Fowler as he stands over me, not in one of his typical suits, but wearing a thick pullover sweater and a pair of loose jeans instead. He looks so different, so much more comfortable than he usually does.
