Let This One Go

Eighty Four;

I groan sitting up in my bed after being woken up by Charlie. "Why are you yelling at me?"

"Dad made breakfast and told me to wake you up, I tried to do it the nice way. You left me with no other choice." She sends me a cheeky smile.

"Oh, please knowing you...wait, did you say dad made breakfast?" I begin to sit up.

"Yeah, he just got up and made breakfast. He doesn't seem happy, but I mean he's making breakfast which is good, right?"

"Yeah, real good."

"Well hurry up and come down or else I'll take all the bacon." She runs out of my door before I can say anything else.

I look down at myself seeing that I was still in my jeans and my jacket. Realizing that I was still wearing my clothes from last night, I was confused. But then again I do remember completely spacing out when we started to go back home.  Last night was a good night, a night I wanted to live all over again if I ever had another chance.

After getting myself together in the bathroom and changing into different clothes I walk downstairs, I could smell the food standing at the top of the stairs.

My father hasn't made breakfast in what felt like a really long time and I missed the conversations the three of us would have while we ate strips of bacon and scrambled eggs. I get inside the kitchen to see my father fixing Charlie's plate as she waited patiently on one of the stools.

"G'morning." I present myself.

Both of their heads snap towards me. I smile at them both as my father hands Charlie her plate and approaches me kissing the top of my head.

"Good morning to you too, would you like oatmeal?" He asks me, he wasn't smiling but then again he wasn't frowning either which I guess is also good.

"I can fix my own plate." I grab a plate from the cabinet and walk over to the stove to put eggs on my plate, a few strips of bacon, and grabbed a slice of toast bread.

The kitchen was quiet as we finally sat down with our fixed plants. All that could be heard wete the forks scraping our plates and the smacking of our lips.

"Charlie would you like to go for some ice cream after breakfast? Maybe even afterwards you could go to the library with Chloe?" My father suggests looking at the two of us.

I shrug. "Yeah, we all can-"

"I can't though, I have some work to get done but I'll give two of you money." He interrupts.

I shake my head. "I have my own money. Charlie would you like that?"

"Yeah."

I stare at my father as he continues eating, I guess there wasn't any sign that he would come out of this depressing behavior anytime soon. How much time does he need? If he'd let us we could sit down and discuss, not argue, discuss things. It doesn't have to be about Harry at all, instead it can be about him, the two of us, and my mother.

August is so close, and it's approaching rapidly and besides everything else I have to figure out, my family is at the top of the list. Working things out with my father and seeing if Charlie will really be okay after I leave.

This is when things get scary, trying to handle everything knowing you only have a short amount of time.

"Charlie go and get dressed so we can leave." I tell her as we finish our plates. As my father washes the dishes I decipher whether or not to talk to him, but what would that do? I'd only get short answers or silence.

I go in to the living room and sit on the couch waiting for Charlie to return dressed and ready to go. In the meantime I grab the telephone and dial Harry's number remembering all of the seven digits by heart.