Energy

Chapter 2 (Kiya) part 3 ~~

My father came home, as usual, that night. He ate, washed and then went to bed. The only difference was his lack of eye contact with me at any point. Don't get me wrong he was disappointed in my existence and rarely looked at me unless completely necessary, but that night there was something else.

He was avoiding eye contact, not only that but the look on his face when he'd initially found me finishing making food for the both of us, was once again displaying a new emotion. Guilt, it was definitely guilt. For what reason was the question that I'd been mulling over for the last few days. It was connected, the phone call, the 'issue' causing him to come home that day.

It was hard not to think about when all I have to keep myself company while doing work is my own thoughts.

Although, the theories of the incident at his work that day were welcomed compared to any thought or pictures in my head of the water slithering over my arms.

It hasn't happened again since that day. For that, I was the most grateful I'd ever been.

Even then the once relaxing and calming morning water collection was now replaced by a panicked almost run to the river and back, I didn't want to spend any more time than I had to there, not with the possibility of another 'incident'.

The next 7 nights my father had entered the house at increasingly later times. With, of course, no explanation, just a simple announcement of his arrival. No eye contact, and once he'd eaten he went to sleep and was gone before I'd woken up in the morning.

Today I woke up with the same expectation. Instead of the usual empty bed in the front room and a plate and spoon left on the floor next to it. My father was still sitting on his bed, on the phone.

"Yes, of course, I can get it arranged today, don't worry boss."

Crossing the room to the buckets left by the door, I had kept my eyes on the floor wishing to be invisible. Continuing to hold my breath to stop an outpour of questions I'd been bottling up for the last few days I collected them and moved to open the door.

"Kiya, there's another job I need you to do for me today." He kept his eyes distracted looking at the buckets in my hands as he explained what I was to do.

It was quite simple really. I just needed to collect a parcel from a colleague at the docks this evening.

I didn't ask any questions, in fear of his reaction if I did, and gave him a slight nod before exiting the house to go and collect water as per usual.

It was now evening and after a full day of theorising about what the parcel might be it hit me that there was something unusual about the whole situation. The phone calls and late arrivals all stemmed from that day. Was the issue related to this parcel in some way? None of this could be a coincidence, surely.

The road to the docks was much easier to walk on than those by my house. The journey wouldn't take long, depending on how heavy the parcel is. Which hopefully isn't very heavy as my arms already burn from cleaning the animal pens today and my brain is tired enough from trying to connect the dots with all of this.

Why am I the one that must collect the parcel, when it's for my father's work?

The twisting in my gut only gets worse as the lights of the dock dancing on the water finally arrive into my field of view.