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“I’ll go see how he is,” I said and gestured for the girls to wait.
Freya nodded in understanding, and Cadence shifted uncomfortably. We hadn’t invited anyone over to the house in years. The last time we’d tried was Cadence’s only sleepover she’d hosted, back in the fifth grade.
When one of her friends spilled orange soda on the carpet, Dad had lost mind. He’d been too drunk to speak coherently and too belligerent to shut up. All the girls went home before the night was over. I could still see their parents’ pitiful glances as they’d picked up their kids.
The steps creaked under my feet, and the door swung open easily. We’d left it unlocked. I had figured that was how we’d find it.
Dad’s snores rattled the entire house. He was passed out in his recliner. It was so worn-out that the once dark leather was now an ugly purplish color. Mom had bought it new for him, and none of us had ever discussed getting rid of it. Next to it was her rocking chair that only Cadence was allowed to sit in for fear that it would break. It was a miracle Dad hadn’t torn it up yet in one of his many tumbles out of his chair.
An equally old couch was pushed against the right wall. Sunlight streamed into the room from a window behind the couch. It cast the grayish-blue painted walls in dim light. Though it wasn’t at all hot, a ceiling fan rotated overhead.
I shook his shoulder. “Dad.”
He choked on his snores but didn’t awaken. I shook him harder, but still no luck. I sighed then headed into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Flies buzzed around the trash can, which clearly hadn’t been emptied in the days we’d been gone. Trash and crumbs littered the counter. The bread had been left unwrapped, and a knife covered in old peanut butter sat beside it.
At least he shut the fridge door.
I grabbed the trash and took it out the backdoor to the dumpster, then scooped what was left on the counter into a new bag. I grabbed the empty beer cans and vodka bottles next to his chair and threw them away too. The carpet was still a mess, but I feared Freya would soon lose her patience and barge in anyway. I sighed and filled a glass with cold water.
I carried it to Dad, who still slept like the dead. He smelled like sweat and liquor. His graying beard needed a trim, and crumbs covered his bloated stomach. His kids had been missing for days, and he hadn’t even bothered to shower. I wasn’t sure he’d changed clothes.
I wasn’t sure he’d noticed we were gone.
I wasn’t surprised, but some disappointments never got old.
I shook his shoulder one last time. His snores continued. Without an ounce of guilt, I splashed cold water all over his face. He jerked awake, and his dull green eyes met mine. He blinked several times, as if he couldn’t believe I stood before him. For a second, I thought I saw relief relax his face into the dad I once knew.
His face morphed back into its typical scowl.
He looked me up and down. “So, you decided to come home?”
I rolled my eyes. “Good to see you too, Dad.”
I took the empty glass back into the kitchen and filled it again. When I brought it back, Dad sat straighter in his chair.
“Splash me with that shit again,” he threatened, “and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t wandered back home.”
“Sure you can aim well enough to hit me?” I shot back. I shoved the glass of water in his face and turned to the kitchen. “Sober up. We have company.”
He mumbled something undoubtedly rude under his breath, but I ignored him. I put on a pot of coffee and went to check on Freya and Cadence. They stood in silence on the front porch. Neither asked me what took so long, but Cadence had a knowing look on her face. As I led them inside, I noticed Freya appeared to be making a conscious effort to keep her expression neutral. She bit the very corner of her bottom lip in concentration.
“Cady?” Dad called.
It was one of those rare times he said her name with affection. Her lip quivered. She’d wondered the same thing I had.
Did he notice I was gone?
He had. He just hadn’t really cared.
My sister rushed into the room to greet him, but I hung back and poured a few cups of coffee. Cadence’s excited chatter echoed into the kitchen. She’d always been better at forgiving him than I was. Freya hung back with me. She leaned against the counter with her arms crossed and her gaze vacant. She still gripped the small, leather duffel she’d grabbed from the cottage. The golems’ sand clung to her hair and clothes. For once, she wasn’t a perfectly put-together warrior.
“Coffee?” I asked.
The question pulled her from her reverie, and she straightened. She didn’t answer but set down her bag and reached for the mug from my hands. I pulled it out of reach, and she raised an eyebrow at me then sighed.
“Walker,” she crooned. “I would be most grateful for a cup of delicious, freshly-brewed coffee.”
I laughed and coaxed a ghost of a smile out of her.
