“Good night, Dad,” I say once I get out of the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He’d usually try to convince me to come over and eat, but all he does is nod at me. He seems distant, and when I exit his car, he stomps through the garage and enters the house through the side door.
Other than telling me to stay away from that thug, he didn’t offer another word after that tense interaction, but his jaw was clenched during the ride home. I didn’t ask questions. Everyone in this town knows about the illegal element, and my dad’s a cop, so it makes sense that he would be concerned.
The plan was to go to my parents’ house and eat dinner, but I quickly changed my mind after seeing Sylvie’s minivan parked in the driveway.
I let myself into my apartment. It’s a warm night, and the place should be stifling. I’d have to open the windows for it to cool down, but I notice that it’s already cool, and the windowsare closed. That’s when I see the AC unit on the floor by the kitchen window.
“Oh, fuck me,” I mutter to myself. “How did this big motherfucker break in here with an AC unit and not get noticed?”
There are also containers of food on my table, but I can tell they’re not from a restaurant. It’s in a Tupperware that doesn’t belong to my mother. I open one, and it’s chicken and something. I don’t check the other, but my stomach growls. It smells amazing.
Is this maniac cooking for me now? When did he have time to cook, buy an AC unit, and commit crimes? The man is like a giant, conspicuous cat burglar.
I always shower when I get home from work, and that’s what I do. When I get out of the bathroom, I hear knocking on the door. I already know it’s not him. He has never knocked. I tighten the robe around me and look through the peephole.
When I see who it is, I think,I’d rather it be him, but I open the door and let my sister in. Although she’s not scowling, I brace myself for whatever bullshit she’s going to throw my way. But instead of speaking when she gets inside, she hands me a plastic bag.
“Mom asked me to bring you dinner.” She sees the Tupperware on the table and examines it. She doesn’t ask, but arches an eyebrow at me. I don’t give her an explanation. She shouldn’t expect one. I put the dinner Mom sent in the fridge.
“Thanks.” I stand there, hoping she’ll get the message and leave.
“Eva and Tim said they had fun with you. Eva said you guys put on makeup, and you painted her nails.”
“Yeah,” is all I say.
She clears her throat. “Her father doesn’t let her wear nail polish. If you were around more, you’d know.”
“Mom was there, and she didn’t say anything,” I tell her, but I already know the answer to that. Mom doesn’t give a shit what Levar or any man has to say about parenting. “But noted. I won’t do it again. Maybe next time, leave a list of Levar’s dos and donts. Good night.” I go past her and yank the door open.
She remains rooted in her spot. “How did you get to work this morning? Mom said you didn’t ask her for a ride.”
“Cori,” is all I say. I want to ask why how I get to and from work is a topic of conversation, but I don’t care.
She raises an eyebrow in disbelief.
“And did she cook that food for you, too?”
“What’s with all the questions, Sylvie? You’re not my parent, and even if you were, I’m a grown woman. Good night.” I gesture toward the outside, but she doesn’t leave.
“Why haven’t you bought a car yet?” she presses.
I stare at her and don’t offer an answer.
“So secretive.”
I raise an eyebrow like that thug did earlier.
“Well, I hope you didn’t move back here so you can use our parents.”
At that, I scoff.
“They’re my parents, too, and whatever they do for me is none of your business,” I say dismissively. “And yes, I’m using them by working twelve-hour shifts. You got me. Why are you here? Don’t you have to go home and serve your husband his dinner?”
Our parents are paying for Tim’s daycare three days a week because her husband won’t. They also pay for the maintenance of her car, and no one will admit it to me, but I’m sure they are the ones who bought her the minivan. If Levar had his way, she would have no money, no car, and would be stuck with the kids while he gets to do whatever the hell he wants.
“My purpose is to be a wife and mother. Something you know nothing about.”
“And judging by how tired and miserable you look, thank goodness for that. Bye. Go live your purpose.”
