The Meaning Games

12. Not Again

Some people are mean and others are meaner. 

Havana, first thing in the morning, ran around the corner, panting hard as she drew a close towards her small house. The exterior was made out of wood, which had always been painted white with an old Chevrolet truck parked outside. For a moment she imagined Avarie standing outside her house, waiting for her to finish the lap so she could run around with her again, pushing and driving her to go faster. But, of course, Avarie wasn't there. She hadn't given up on Havana, but once she was in the swing of things and was losing weight, running on a daily routine, Avarie loosened the lead and let her run on her own. Havana still imagined her friend standing there, in her running kit, out of habit from seeing her when Havana had needed her. She had been the one to drag Havana out of bed every morning and force her to run around the few blocks, which Havana had continued for the last four years. She had been the one to change Havana's diet and support her decision to lose weight. Picking her up pace, Havana made her way to the house and took the single step to her porch. Apart from a bench her father had made a few years back, the porch was empty. 

Havana picked up the water bottle she'd left on the bench and sucked out the contents, gasping for air. Then, the bottle dropped to the floor like a pin dropping on a title. She stopped in her tracks, hearing a loud noise from inside. Her heartbeat increased and her palms immediately began to sweat. It wasn't due to perspiring from exercise, either. Turning the knob of the door quickly, she rushed into the living room, only to heave a deep sigh of relief. David Avenue turned towards his daughter with a sheepish expression on his face. 

Havana stepped forwards, her legs still shaking uncontrollably from underneath her. Her features were twisted in uncomfortable recognition to the situation. Her father was standing on a chair installing a new light bulb. The one he had previously taken out was on the floor along with the shade that covered the lamp. Closing her eyes for a moment, she breathed heavily in and out of her nose, trying to calm herself and her racing heart down. 

"Sorry, honey, I was just trying to change the light bulb." He looked down at the light shade on the floor, then at his daughter. "Can you pass up the shade?"

Havana looked at his father. He was smiling at her, but with tired smile and frown lines, making him look like a young man that had turned old with age. His hair was greying by the day, but his hairline did not recede. He was, after all, only forty. In his early twenties, David and his late wife Laura had welcomed Havana into the world together, but a few years prior to Havana's high school education Laura died, leaving her husband a widow, and a single father. For a while, David kept up appearance and was happy, always, in front of his daughter. But when she was old enough to understand the red bills flooding in, David began to let his façade dissolve and he became the over working, tired, poor man that many people now pitied him to be. Havana smiled bravely at her father, holding up the lampshade to him. She suddenly felt guilty. Every time he did something around the house, she wished she could do it. Still, the harder she worked at school, the better a chance she had of a scholarship and a recommendation at graduation for a great, highly paid job. 

"Thanks," David said, grabbing the shade. He blew her a kiss. Even though she didn't have money, not a lot of it anyway, like Avarie and Collins, she had her dad. She was grateful that they had a healthy relationship. Sometimes he was more like her best friend. A loud rap on the door made them both jump. Havana quickly went to get it, her Nike trainers hit the floorboards, making them creak with each stride. 

Havana opened the door to see Collins with her hand poised in the air, ready to hammer on the door once more. When she saw Havana open it, her gaze softened and her arm dropped to her side. "Hey." Collins said, letting herself in. "Are you ready? I'm taking you to school."