I was wallowing in self-pity when Dad suddenly opened his bedroom door. We all froze in place and waited. The color drained from Mom’s face. When we heard him close the bathroom door and turn on the shower, we all exhaled a sigh of relief.

  Mom cleared her throat, “I think it’s time for cake,” she said, as she rose from the table and began collecting plates.

  “Now you’re talking my language,” Grandpa added, “A la Mode please.”

  Once the table was cleared, Mom brought into the dining room, a large, triple-layer, chocolate cake, ablaze with eighteen lit candles. My motley crew broke into the traditional happy birthday song, and I blew out the candles. Mom plunged the knife into the monster cake at the same time Dad opened the bathroom door. She stopped in mid-cut, for a fraction of a second, to listen and then continued cutting.

  “Good evening everyone,” Dad said as he rounded the corner into the dining room.

  Bobby and Mom returned the greeting, but Maggie and I remained silent.

  Dad sat at his place at the table. “Looks like I made it for the best part, dessert,” he said.

  Bobby replied, “It’s debatable, Mr. MacKenna, as the lasagna was spectacular.”

  “Thank you, Bobby,” Mom smiled.

  “I’m sure it was. I’m sorry I missed it, but I hope there are leftovers,” Dad said to Mom.

  She smiled but said nothing as she passed plates loaded with cake and ice cream around the table.

  “I’m tired. I’ll eat my dessert in my bedroom,” Grandpa said, as he stood up. I carried his plate and fork and followed along behind him to his room.

  “Thank you for joining us for dinner, Grandpa,” I said.

  “Keep an eye on your Dad, he’s unstable,” Grandpa noted while climbing onto his bed.

  “I will. Can I help you change into your pajamas?” I asked.

  “Later. I don’t want my ice cream to melt,” he said, with a smile and a wink.

  “Later it is, then.”

  When I returned to the dining room, my ice cream was almost melted, and Dad and Bobby were discussing major-league baseball. Maggie rolled her eyes when I looked at her and Mom was looking at her cake, while she pushed a bite around on her plate. Reluctantly, I sat in my seat. Much like Mom, I’d lost my desire for dessert.

  Dad chatted away merrily as if he hadn’t been fired just a few hours earlier. He acted like he hadn’t blown his top and threatened to kick me out. The only income source for his family had been severed, and he was putting on an act as nothing had happened.

  Dad had been bouncing from highs to lows for years, and Grandpa was right, he seemed more unstable than usual. I told myself any thoughts or fears he was going to kill us in our sleep, were just my imagination, from watching too many horror movies.

  When there was a pause in the conversation, between Dad and Bobby, I jumped up, thanked Mom, and excused myself from the table. Maggie followed me, and we took the cake plates into the kitchen and began to wash them for Mom.

  “What the hell is he doing?” Maggie asked me.

  I shrugged.

  “I’m going to K-Mart to pick up chain locks for our bedroom doors. Do you want to ride along?” I asked.

  “Why do we need a chain lock?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  “I don’t want to sleep with one eye open, do you?”

  Chapter 6

  Maggie sat on the lawn talking nonstop, while I washed my car in the driveway. She waited for Bobby to pick her up for their date.

  “Thank you for installing the chain lock, on my door last night. I did feel safer with it locked, although I’m not sure why I might have felt unsafe, without it.” She shrugged. “Do you know how today went for Mom and Dad since it was his first day to be unemployed? Do you know if he hung out here all day? He had to have driven Mom crazy,” she said, “Do you think he was serious about making you move out?”

  “Geez, girl, take a breath. I don’t know. I’ve kept a low profile since yesterday. Just in case, I’m going to look at some apartments tomorrow, after Mom’s surprise get-together.” I shrugged.

  “Dad won’t make you move out. It was the heat of the moment; the booze talking, like Bobby, said, and he was embarrassed about being fired,” she said and then added, “Look at me, I graduated three years ago, and I’m still here.”

  “Ah, but you’re his favorite,” I quipped.

  “Right! He doesn’t have a favorite,” she assured me.

  “I think I’ve saved enough money to move out.”

  “No, please don’t, you can’t leave Mom and me here alone with him.”

  “It’s not like I’ll be far away.”

  We both heard Bobby turn into our street, long before we saw him. His, lifted, full-size truck, with loud tailpipes, announced his approach. Maggie jumped up and brushed the grass from her butt.

  Bobby parked at the curb and joined us.

  “Hey beautiful,” he said to Maggie.

  “Gross,” I groaned, jokingly.

  Bobby and Maggie laughed. Bobby was three years younger than Maggie, and when he’d realized he was feeling attracted to her, he’d asked me if it would be weird for him to take her on a date. I gave them my blessing. She couldn’t have chosen a better boyfriend, in my opinion. Bobby wasn’t anything like Dad. Thankfully! Bobby was the complete opposite. He was tall, muscular, kind, caring, and gentle.

  Bobby grabbed the hose and rinsed off the car, as I washed it.

  “Where’re you two going tonight?” I asked.

  “Dinner at ‘Pasta and Pizza,’ then a movie,” Bobby answered.

  “I’ll be sure to make your pizza ‘extra’ special. What movie?”

  Maggie chimed in, “‘Happy Together,’ a love story,” she smiled proudly.

  Bobby put his arms up in defeat. “What can I say? It was her turn to pick.”

  I coiled the hose at the spigot, so as not to make Dad angry. He liked everything to be in its place, and since I seemed to be skating on thin ice at the moment, I didn’t want to do anything to get thrown out on my ass, before I was ready.

  “How’s your Dad today?” Bobby asked.

  “When I got home from school, he was digging around in the hall, storage closet. He said hello, but I ignored him. I’ve been out here since,” Maggie replied.

  “When I got home I started working on my car, straight away and didn’t even go inside,” I added.

  “Well then, let’s go say ‘Hi’ to your parents before we go,” Bobby suggested, so I followed them inside.

  When Maggie saw Grandpa sitting at the dining room table, she said with glee, “Grandpa!” and proceeded to give him a big hug.

  Bobby shook Grandpa’s hand.

  “Hi Mr. MacKenna,” he said to Dad, as he rounded the table and shook his hand, before hugging Mom, who stood nearby.

  Bobby was always polite and respectful. If I didn’t already know, I’d guess he was raised by a military man or a law enforcement officer.

  I looked at Grandpa and then at Dad. Something was definitely off. Dad had the overhead light pulled down as low as it would go and several large glass jars on the table filled with his treasured marbles. He’d been showing Grandpa his marble collection.

  Grandpa looked somewhat interested. It was weird, though, as Dad didn’t normally give Grandpa two seconds of attention. Most the time, he seemed irritated that Grandpa had invaded his home and taken over his bedroom.

  Something was strange about them drinking lemonade and iced tea together and chatting about marbles. I had no doubt Dad had laced his iced tea with vodka. He had that look in his eyes. I could tell when he was on the road to intoxication.

  “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Dad asked Maggie, with a surly tone.

  “Out,” she replied with her special touch of curtness.

  “What about school tomorrow?” Dad asked.

  “It’s Friday, so I don’t have school tomorrow, I’m doing a hospital visitation. Anyway, last time I checked, I was twenty and old enough to make my own decisions.”

  “Don’t get sassy with me,” he said, louder than was necessary, “Last time I checked, you lived in my home, rent-free!”

  “Mom,” Maggie’s eyes pleaded with Mom to deal with her husband.

  “What the hell. All I asked was where you were going,” Dad muttered.

  “It’s not what you asked; it’s how you asked. You said it all mean-like,” Maggie replied.

  “Okay,” he responded with an exaggerated, child-like sweetness, mocking her, “So, where are you going young lady?”

  “You’re ridiculous. There’s no point trying to talk to you. You’re either as mean as a rooster, or as mad as a scalded dog. It’s no surprise you were…”

  “Enough!” Dad pounded his fist on the table so hard some of the marbles bounced off the table. “Get the hell out!” He sprang from his chair and yelled at Maggie, as he pointed toward the front door.

  Grandpa mumbled something.

  Bobby stepped between Maggie and Dad. “Mr. MacKenna, calm down before this gets out of hand. We’re going out to dinner and then to a movie.”

  Maggie turned, in a huff and stomped out the front screen door.

  Grandpa mumbled again.

  “What Dad?” Mom asked him, placing a hand on his back and leaning in, so she could hear him. Everyone stopped in place and looked at Grandpa.

  “I don’t feel well,” Grandpa said, “I want to go to my room.”

  “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve all upset Dad,” Mom admonished, helping Grandpa to stand.

  Dad jumped up from his seat again, knocking more of his precious marbles off the table, in the process. “I’ll help him to his room.”

  I looked at Dad with suspicion. He never helped Mom with Grandpa.

  “It’s okay, I’ll take care of him,” Mom replied, giving Dad a gentle push away.

  Dad grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at him. “You want me to spend time with your father. I’ll help him back to his room,” he ordered, in a quiet, yet commanding voice. It felt like the three of them were on stage, in a live performance. Mom shrank and stepped back, as Dad grasped Grandpa by the elbow and guided him around the table. Grandpa moved slowly.

  Watching each step he took, I saw stray marbles come into view. Dad was guiding Grandpa straight for the marbles. “STOP!” I yelled and made two quick strides to get in front of them. “You dropped some marbles, and Grandpa was about to step on them.” I scooped up the marbles and tossed them into jars.

  Mom mouthed the words “thank you” to me.

  We watched Dad and Grandpa shuffle down the hallway to his bedroom. Mom was a few steps behind them.

  “Do you think he wanted Grandpa to slip and fall?” I whispered to Bobby.

  “Nah,” Bobby exclaimed.

  “But, he doesn’t let anyone touch his marble collection. He’s had it since he was a kid. It’s weird he was even showing them to Grandpa and weirder still, for him not to realize he’d dropped some.”

  “Hey, I don’t want to think he was intentionally trying to hurt your Grandpa,” Bobby assured me.

  Maggie stomped back inside and stood with her hands on her hips. “Are we going or not?”

  “We’re going,” Bobby sighed, as he followed her outside.

  Dad came back to the dining room alone. He began moving the marbles I had thrown into jars to the appropriate jars, based on color and type. I reached for Grandpa’s lemonade and mumbled, “If Grandpa isn’t going to drink this, I might as well.”

  As I reached for the glass, Dad grabbed it away from me. “Get your own lemonade,” he snarled at me, before taking the drink to Grandpa.

  And, there he was again, back to being the asshole I knew so well.

  Chapter 7

  Because she had a couple from her church coming to our house in the afternoon, to talk with Dad, Mom had asked Maggie and me to be home by two o’clock. I promised to stay until I had to leave for work, but I prayed the couple wouldn’t be here long.

  Maggie was doing a hospital visitation in the morning but said she’d be back in time.

  Dad knew Mom had invited friends from her church to our house, but he didn’t know the real reason, and I was more than concerned about his reaction when he found out.

  It was about one-thirty when I ventured out from my bedroom. Dad sat in his recliner, in the living room. Mom puttered in the kitchen.

  I whispered to her, “I think this is a bad idea, Mom.”

  She put her hands on her hips and whispered back, “You kids keep telling me to do something about your Dad’s drinking. Now that I have someone willing to speak to him about it, you think it’s a bad idea.”

  “All I’m saying, is I’m not sure surprising him, is the best way to go about it,” I said quietly, “Anyway,” I added, “Why would he stay in the living room, while your friends are here?”

  “Because, I told him I wanted him to meet them,” she replied.

  “I’m sure he’s been drinking already. Are you sure you want to spring this on him?”

  “Cole, please stop. I need you and Maggie present in the living room, while they’re here, so we can all tell your dad how much we love him and how much we want him to get better. I’d appreciate it if you could try to be more supportive. Because if this doesn’t work, I don’t know what else…” Mom’s voice trailed off as she began to cry, softly.

  I gave her a hug until her tearfulness slowed down. “I’m sorry Mom. I really do hope this works.” In my heart, though, I had serious doubts.

  We heard Maggie approach the house as her car rattled down our street. She needed a new muffler; it was a surprise she hadn’t been pulled over and given a fix-it ticket. Mom and I watched her from the kitchen window.

  The front screen door made a bang when she came inside. We heard Dad ask her why she was home so early and then she reminded him it was Saturday. She clenched her teeth and made a face at me before she went to her room. Maggie had told me she’d asked Bobby to pick her up at about the same time I planned to leave for work. There was no way she was sticking around Dad, after this, without me.

  Mom placed a tray, with lunchmeat, cheese, and crackers on the dining room table, along with fruit slices and cookies.

  My parents never had friends over. I think Mom wished they had friends to invite over, though, because she loved to fuss over people and bake treats for them.

  My mouth was attached to a cookie, in the dining room, when Dad abruptly sat the recliner upright and staggered toward me. He had his empty glass in hand. “Those cookies smell good,” he slurred, as he passed by the table and went into the kitchen.

  I took my place on the leather sofa, and a few minutes later Dad returned with a fresh glass of iced tea and a cookie. Mom walked Grandpa into the living room and helped him sit next to me. He winked at me. Maggie joined us and sat on Grandpa’s other side. She looked ready for a date. Her hair was all poofed up, and she had more makeup on than usual. She smelled like someone had gone crazy spritzing all of the scents in the fragrance department at Pimlot’s Department Store, in the mall.

  Dad looked at us three. “What’s the big deal about this couple?”

  I shrugged.

  Mom rushed in from the kitchen to the living room. “They’re here,” she announced and then turned to greet them at the front door. She showed them into the living room. The man looked about Dad’s age. Mom introduced them to Dad, Maggie, Grandpa and me. Since we didn’t have enough seats in the living room, Mom had positioned two dining room chairs, so the couple could easily see us all.

  They chatted with Mom and Dad about the beautiful weather and the powerful sermon last Sunday, before they ran out of things to say.

  When the silence became uncomfortable, the husband said, “Bill, we haven’t seen you at the church in quite a while.”

  Dad sipped his tea and said, “I’ve been busy.”

  “Your wife, her father, and your children love you very much. You know that don’t you?” the man added.

  Dad’s gray eyes darkened and then narrowed slightly. “What?”

  Mom must have picked up on Dad’s attitude shift because she scurried into the dining room to get the cookie plate. She offered cookies, as she walked around the small circle we’d formed. “Would anyone like some coffee?” she asked, “It’s no bother to make coffee.”

  The couple declined both the cookies and the coffee. I grabbed a cookie as Mom passed by me, on her way back to the dining room.

  The man continued, “As I was saying, Bill, your family loves you very much and want you to know how much your drinking is hurting them.”

  Dad gave the husband a look I was accustomed to seeing, building rage. He was getting angrier and angrier with each word spoken.

  “Mary, tell Bill, how you feel,” he said to Mom.

  “I worry you’re hurting yourself,” she said without making eye-contact with Dad.

  “Grandpa, would you like to…” the man was cut off in mid-sentence.

  “What… the… hell… is going on here?” Dad bellowed. His face had turned dark red, and his eyes squinted menacingly.

  “We’re just talking,” the man said with a calm voice, “Have you been drinking today, Bill? Is the alcohol making you feel angry?”

  In my peripheral vision, I saw Maggie scoot closer to Grandpa and take his hand in hers.

  “Mary! What the hell is this?” Dad questioned Mom.

  Mom had tears in her eyes. “I want you to stop drinking. The alcohol turns you into someone who hates the world,” she uttered nervously.

  Dad dropped the footrest and put the recliner upright with lightning speed before he stood up. “Get… Out…! Get out of my home!” speaking directly to the couple.

  The couple didn’t budge. “Mary asked us to speak with you. She wants to help…”

  Dad stepped toward the couple. “GET OUT!” He pointed to the front door.

  I stepped between the couple and Dad, as they stood up. The man said, “Bill, your family loves…”

  “OUT!”

  The couple let themselves out.

 

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