Holding On

~ • Chapter 3 • ~ Spock Action-Figures are Better than the Potty

My Father Chewed loudly.

He was sitting across from me at the small table in the kitchen where we'd eaten burgers the night before, and he was chomping away at scrambled eggs and slurping coffee from a green mug with paint chipping on the handle, studying the sports section in the newspaper. I pressed a hand to my forehead and released a deep breath. He didn't notice.

When I'd come out of my room this morning, dark circles under my eyes and teeth not even yet brushed, he'd run up to me and smiled wide, proudly announcing that he'd made breakfast for us.

"I'm not hungry," I said, even though I was. I was hoping he'd leave for work and then I could eat in peace, all by myself. Just the way I liked it.

"You haven't eaten in over ten hours, though," he pointed out, either not getting the message or choosing to ignore it. I looked at him for a minute.

"We can sit down at the table and eat together like a regular family," he said, smiling. He placed his hands on his hips. "I made scrambled eggs. They used to be your favorite when you were little."

I had to choose which statement was more important to point out. Finally, I repeated: "Like a family." I just looked at him coldly, unfeelingly, and he swallowed. A nervous habit; my nervous habit.

"Charlie." He bit his lip, staring down at the tan carpet beneath our feet like it had suddenly become interesting. He ran a hand through his light brown hair, and for a moment, I thought he might say something more. Maybe apologize, maybe acknowledge the fact that it would be near impossible for us to ever be a regular family again. But he didn't. "It's there for you, if you want it."

He didn't look at my eyes again, just walked back over to the table and pulled out a chair for himself, sitting down. I watched with crossed arms as he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. Then I looked away and walked to the bathroom. I took a short shower, even though I'd had one the night before, so I could wash away the product of last night's nightmare. I could've put away all my bathroom things, but I still didn't feel like they belonged among his. It was my house, but it didn't feel like my home. I didn't know what did feel like home any more.

When I was done in the bathroom, I swallowed away my pride. We weren't a family, but we lived in the same house. If I appeased him, he'd leave me alone, I reasoned. So I walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table across from him. He looked up at me quick, then went back to his food. I did the same. And I had to hand it to him, he did make some pretty good breakfast.

Now, he wiped his mouth with a napkin, stood up, and brought his plate to the sink. I was glad he was done eating so I wouldn't have to suppress a gag any longer. He glanced at the clock. "You should probably get going soon, you know."

Placing my fork down on the plate, I asked: "What?"

He watched me for a moment, like he was trying to decide whether or not I was joking with him. "Susan didn't tell you?" He grabbed his wallet off the counter and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Tell me what?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again. I remembered this was something he always did a lot when I was younger and he was stressed out about something. "She's really making this as hard for me as she can, isn't she?"

He scratched his jaw, and I was just about to insist my question be answered when he spoke. "Part of the deal of you staying here was that you'd have to do some... work. I mean, you're graduated, so Susan didn't want you having your time free for... other things." He darted his eyes to the floor. No doubt he knew better than anyone else what those other things might've been.