Sunday, November 30th.
1 - Prologue
A grey cat was asleep on a grey carpet in a beam of sunlight. It was a hoary old fellow, its whiskers bent and frazzled from years of weary use. Its breathing was slow and nearly indiscernable, its eyes barely visible save for dimples in its lush, close-cropped fur.
A child's hand holding a small white stuffed kitten with a heart emblem on its hind leg crept up onto the cat, and batted a whisker with a tiny front stuffed paw. "Wake up, Kitty, it's time to play!"
The cat moved not a muscle, its paws motionless without a single flex of a claw. Its breathing remained steady and unchanged, its ears untwitched. He appeared to be very deep in the land of slumber.
Once again, the stuffed kitten's front paw strummed the cat's whiskers like a guitar. "You have to get up and play, Kitty, come on and wake up!" the child's voice said again.
All of a sudden, the cat's eyes opened, revealing green irises opening to round pupils. I am awake, a disembodied voice replied. Perhaps it is you who are still asleep.
With a gasp, the child's hand dropped the stuffed kitten and let it tumble to the floor.
2 - Jim
Jim carefully pulled into the dark driveway, nearly invisible in the rainy night. Everything was slick and the headlights reflected only murky outlines of over-exaggerated shadows. He took a deep huff-and-puff and nudged his old station wagon into its proper spot behind the closed garage door. Rage Against the Machine was blaring loudly on the radio, and he was loathe to turn it off. But it was not a good time to listen to music; Tommy hadn't returned his calls with regards to the weed or the scam that he had wanted to pull, so it was home to a glass of wine and a fall into bed.
But that was not to be. After taking off his shoes in the garage and letting himself into the back door, it was immediately apparent that things were wrong. The lights were out. No TV blaring, no kids yelling and screeching, no food on the stove, and quiet husky sobbing from the living room. What the fuck....
Jim flipped the lights on and saw a mess of Cheerios, banana peels and raisins on the floor. All the cupboards and the refrigerator was open, showing their empty insides. He rushed into the living room and saw Reina slumped onto the floor, her cell phone and ashtray in front of her. She hadn't tried to call him, that much he knew; he had idly checked his cell phone as he got out of his car just in case she had decided to message him with last-minute errands. Her face was wet with tears, her sobs as hopeless as a death in the family. But he knew her penchant for drama.
"What happened?" he asked, keeping his voice at a careful balance between stern and concerned.
"The kids ate all the fuckin' food, even after I've told them not to," she blubbered. "I have absolutely nothing for supper. Fuckin' Ivy even cooked all the frozen nuggets in the oven and ate 'em all."
A small twinge of pride tickled a tiny part of Jim's heart, proud that his petite little blonde could pack away so much meat and still retain her thin figure. Of course, she was only nine, but to Jim, she was already a beautiful young woman that would require his protection. But she was also young enough to learn that draining the people who took care of her was not going to work out for her in the future. As a father, it wasn't his job to be her friend, but an example.
"Okay, so I'll go to Home Depot and get some padlocks," Jim decided. "We'll be the only ones with the keys. I'll also get some more food and we'll lock it all up. If they want to eat, they'll have to buy lemons from us and sell lemonade on the street." He gestured to the kitchen. "We've got a fuckin' juicer, she can use that instead of the oven."
That nipped the emotional problem in the bud for Jim, because it elicted a laugh from Reina as she sniffled and wiped away her tears with the back of her wrist. "Yeah, okay, if that's what it takes," she croaked. Then, she nodded. "Fuck it, that's a great idea. I won't even have to yell at her. I want to wait and hear them complain in the morning when they wake up and see those locks so I could tell them what's what then."
They shared another chuckle and he helped her up, the crook of her elbow in his hand. Even though she was a portly lady, Reina still had the classic Romanesque beauty in her facial structures and her posture that never failed to strike Jim as an exquisite work of art. Big tits, big firm ass, firm belly, big firm personality. She may keep her nose upturned and purport the wisdom of an ancient soul, but if that's how she needed to cope with herself so she could be a decent mother and wife, then Jim was willing to put up with the occasional display of histrionics. She was still shorter than him by six inches, and her breath was warm in his neck when she came in for a reassuring hug. He kissed her forehead and caressed her back; there, there, everything will be all right, baby. "I'll cook for tonight and tomorrow when I get home. Why don't you go ahead and go to bed."
She nodded against him and took another deep breath, breathing in the scent of his sweat, his work, and the baked smell of cigarettes and weed in his beard. "Mmmmmhhh, that's a great idea. Come see me tonight, Daddy." She gave his nipple a light pinch through his shirt and they giggled as she backed away from him. "Now go, get the locks and let's make the kids cry."
Jim gave his best cheerful face as he walked out the door. He had been really looking forward to a relaxing evening at home, too, but such were the unpredictable fun challenges that came with being a father. Rage Against the Machine was no longer on, but Pearl Jam was dutifully belting out a bland cover. "Ooh, so obscure," murmured Jim as he squinted into the rearview mirror. The CD player didn't work, or otherwise he would have better music which would have lent him better focus to accomplish his driving mission. He simply switched the radio off and drove to the store in silence.
3 - Addison
Her eyes felt like crying when she woke up. Her nose felt like it had to sneeze, but not really. Everything was dark and murky. She made air come into her lungs and pushed it back out. She was awake and alive. Her name was Addison and she was four years old. Ivy was asleep next to her. It was night and she was in their room. Did Daddy come home yet?
She got out of bed and opened the door slowly. Still dark. Did Mommy finally go to bed? She was very mad at everyone for eating all the food. Addison was hungry and hoped that there was still cereal on the floor. She had been walking around earlier and picking up bites here and there while waiting for commercials to be over and Spongebob to come back on. But she had to be quiet, because Mommy might still be downstairs and awake. Mommy liked to sit on the couch in the dark sometimes. It scared her, but she knew that grown-ups had more bigger problems than kids.
Mommy and Daddy's room had the door closed. She took a chance at Mommy being in there and went downstairs, relieved to find the living room and kitchen empty. The door to the rec room downstairs was closed, so Mommy's not down there doing laundry. She glanced around and picked up a few raisins and Cheerios. If Ivy hadn't drank it all, Addison could have tried an experiment to see how milk tasted with Cheerios and raisins. And sugar, too, but Bailey ate the entire bowl with a spoon.
With her appetite somewhat sated, Addison went to the easy chair by the living room second-story window and stood upon it. If she looked right down, she could see the little driveway where Daddy parked his big car, but it was gone at the moment. Okay, so Daddy's not home yet.
In the meantime, she decided to just watch the traffic and wait. There were lots of cars on Vineland Avenue, going back and forth, but she was most interested in the people that walked on the sidewalks. Sometimes they had dogs, sometimes they pushed carts, but every time they were fascinating to watch, especially when two strangers encounter one another. Tonight, since it was raining, there were barely any people. But the few that she saw had umbrellas and walked fast. When two people walked towards one another, they almost always drift to one side to give the other more than plenty of space to pass. As if they were scared of being poisoned, or hit. She saw one guy wearing a bulky raincoat lumber without wavering past a girl carrying an umbrella who nearly went off the sidewalk and into a puddle in her mad dash to avoid being within six feet of him. It was funny to Addison, and not at all like the cartoons that her brothers and sister liked to watch or the movies that she saw with Mommy and Daddy. She liked those movies, because the grown-ups would often take their clothes off. She found it funny and would often take that as a cue to strip down to her own underwear and go around giving hugs and kisses to everyone. Mommy always said, "Addy, put your clothes back on!" but when it's just her and Daddy, he doesn't do anything but hug her tight against his lap. She was happy that Daddy let her do whatever she wanted.
She had been watching the headlights and streetlights reflected in the puddle streams running along the curb and thinking of the time that Daddy helped her catch a fish from the river when, as if on cue, she saw the familiar headlights come around the corner of the parking lot and pull in below the window. A tiny inhaled squeal rose in her throat as she clapped her wrists together in excitement. Daddy's home, Daddy's home!! And he was carrying a lot of bags!
As she had been trained via rigorous hands-on discipline from Mommy, Addy sat on the couch patiently as Daddy let himself in and closed the back door. Once it was closed, she could contain her excitement no longer and sprinted to him. "Daddy-addy-addy!" she sang with outstretched arms.
He had his mad smile on. "Addy-daddy-daddy, not now, baby, Ommy-mom-mom's maddy."
She giggled and stood her ground. "Awwww!" Her disappointed happy grunt, arms straight down in fists. Daddy was taking off his wet coat and kicking off his wet shoes. "What's in the bags?"
"Locks," he replied pointedly and sternly. "For the refrigerators and the cabinets." His eyes bored fire into hers. He knew what she did, and she knew that he knew. She looked down, saw the Cheerios and raisins, and sighed. "That's right," he continued. "Everyone's in trouble. No more snacks."
"I just— I just ate— I didn't," she stammered.
Daddy cut her off. "No bullshit. I'm not gonna belt you and Mommy won't belt you, but no more snacks in the daytime. But if you help Daddy-addy-addy put the locky-lockies on, I'll get us a pizza."
"Okay!" That was okay with her.
"But you have to help me eat it ALL, because we can't let Mommy, or Ivy, or Jimmy, or Bailey know we had a snack, okay?"
She nodded impatiently. "Okay! Um, Daddy?"
"Yes, baby?" He was using his phone to place an order for the pizza.
"Can we watch the zombie show tonight too?"
"Yeah, now go get Daddy his wine bottle."
Submitted December 01, 2014 at 12:50PM by IWantToBeNormal http://ift.tt/1y7e8sW recyclebin
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