The life of an Indefinite Playerr

Chapter 17

"Patrick McHale!" the man who is supposedly my dad screamed at me. " Lola, go to your room. I want to deal with this piece of something here." My Dad's house a big one with chandelier lights and an emerald ceiling. The dining table was such a huge one, everything was just perfect. Lola was my little nine-year-old stepsister that lived with my dad since her mother works miles away across the country. I was a little bit tipsy since the whiskey had just kicked in.

"Oh no no, senor. You absolutely don't get to shout at me, nor have a say in my fucking life!" I screamed. " Listen to me, Mister; Angel needed you to raise me but just after side love affairs you just left! YOU LEFT!!!!! So, don't stand there and call me a piece of something okay? Now tell me, why the fuck did you text to come to this big old building?" His face was livid. That's when I actually knew how hot a slap from my dad is. "Leave, now" he commanded in a very soft voice.

" And where actually am I supposed to go," I asked in resilience.

"To whosoever gave alcohol to drink, all I know is do not want you here." He shouted.

"Since when does the almighty Mchale resolves to cowardice, you have already slapped me. You might as well continue where you ended." He turned on his heels and went up the wooden stairs. I reclined to the couch beside me and drifted off.

...

A week after. Complications occurred between me and my dad after I rocked up to his house and shouted at him like he was not my dad.  Well today I had to go to my mother's memorial service and sit there watching people say things I didn't know about here. 

*doorbell

*doorbell

*doorbell

"Fine. I'm coming." I snapped out of bed and sluggishly made my way to the sliding door. Yeah. The same door Macarena used when she first came to visit me. I seem to think of her lately these days and I fear it may be too much. 

"Are you Mr Patrick McHale?" the tall mailman said with an intimidating look. I quickly nodded. 

"I am sorry I yelled."

"I need you to sign here" he said handing me over the clipboard. I quickly did so and took my parcel with a bunch of a few letters, then quickly closed the door. I opened my parcel and it was a black shining tuxedo with a piece of writing on its chest pocket. I took out the paper and it read: 

"May her gracious soul rest in piece and harmony, Tracy"

Even getting a suit for the burial slipped my mind. My dad hasn't called me since the argument; instead, I took care of everything on my own, which was not an easy task. Along with a few other women from the Catholic church, Aunt Margaret—apparently our next-door neighbour—came to help me with the catering for the visitor because, aside from them, I had no one else. My left eye started to tear up. I started crying while I was thinking about this. I went and made breakfast for the nuns and church ladies who were due to arrive. Numerous memories were triggered by being behind the counter. I recall the day we first came here on moving day, and how excited my mother was about living here then the memory was distorted, I remembered how she fell on her knees with her hand on her chest, I also remembered the kiss we had with Selena at this very table. I figured out how lonely I had become over the past few days, and how lonely I was about to be lonely.

The hours went on and it was time for the memorial service to start. I alighted from Tracy's car and headed for the church. As soon as I got in, I was ushered to the seats in the front row.  At arms throw, there as big broad wide picture with my mom smiling on it (probably the ushers were like let's torture with his mother's picture the whole service). I stared at it and felt tears rushing to my eyes, but I contained myself. After a little while my tall stout dad came in wearing a brown suit. BROWN?? Is that how much disrespect he has for the fallen queen? Brown was one colour my mother hated. I really felt pissed, but I managed to contain myself again.

"The holy God bless thee" the officiator said over the speakers. The service started off with a lot of hymns I did even bother singing. People went up the stage and a lot of things about my mother and finally my dad went up there. 

"Where do I begin?" he said clearing his throat. " Angel was my friend since high school. We ended up in the same varsity then we became lovers. Her eyes were the one thing that captured me and took me out this world. We used hold hands and walk on the streets and..." he started crying. " She didn't care what people would think of it. She was a carefree soul which I confided in each and every day. Well sometimes love is not enough because she was able to go and cheat on me even though she knew how...much I... loved..." he then started crying. " I loved you, Angel" he said in a very soft voice "...but I guess I was never enough. I was afraid that we'd fall out of love and so we did. In spite of it all, you always be my everything even though to this date we were nothing at all. I promise you ...I'll be the best thing for our son, and I'll love him, as I loved you, Angeline Emily Howard."

Honestly, I didn't expect this. Now I can't even tell if it is real or not. In that demise, Macarena flashed on the far end of the front row. She had just arrived, and she was stunning as ever, even more without makeup and natural hair.

"Next, his son, shall he?"

I sighed and stood up.