Missing The Mark ✔

12

"Mom, where are you?" I called out as I opened the front door. I strolled through the living room, immediately noticing that the television wasn't broadcasting cartoons or cooking shows, signaling my father's presence. I almost turned around to make a hasty retreat, but my mother's voice pulled me back.

"Danny, is that you, love?" she emerged from the kitchen, a bright smile lighting up her face. I approached her and wrapped my arms around her in a tight hug. "Your father's home today," she said cheerfully as if I should be thrilled to see him. She held my hand and led me into the kitchen.

I turned the corner and there he sat at the table, engrossed in a newspaper and sipping something hot from a mug. My mother left me at the entrance, taking a seat opposite my father. He glanced up at me from behind his newspaper.

"Daniel." My dad, well, he's not the warmest person you'll ever meet. He's older now, with little streaks of grey hair poking through his once-dark locks. His face perpetually wears a scowl, as if the world owes him something, and he's never hesitant to show his displeasure. He used to be slim, but over the years, that belly of his has grown, thanks to his fondness for alcohol. He's not the kind of dad you see in movies, offering support and encouragement. No, he hated just about everything I did, always quick with criticism but never with praise. It's a mystery to me how he can tolerate my sister, Nicola, even though she's a ray of sunshine. My mother's reasoning for staying with him is that she loves him, but I could never fathom how she could love someone like him, someone who seemed to dislike every fiber of my being. There's always been a nagging thought in the back of my mind that maybe it's because I was adopted, but I've never had the courage to voice it.

"Hey, Dad. I just came to see Mom," I said, keeping my distance. I subtly indicated that I wanted to leave by my mom's side.

"Forgot about your old man, huh?" he asked, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "You become some big shot in the drug business, and suddenly you're too good for your own father?"

"Dad, I'm not in the drug business," I protested.

"Then where do you get all that money? Your 'suitors'?" he inquired, suspicion clouding his gaze. "Your mother doesn't need to get tangled up in your mess. So, you can keep your money."

"What—"

"I'm not..." I trailed off, turning to look at my mother, who wore a regretful expression. She stood up and led me out of the kitchen. "Mom, what the hell was that??" I asked once we were away from my father.

"I told him about the money." 

"Why?" I questioned.

"Because he thought I was cheating on him," she confessed. "He thought I was taking money from someone else, so I told him it was from you. He told me never to accept money from you again. I'm sorry, sweetie."

"Mom, it's okay. He doesn't have to know. Just...don't spend it conspicuously. Don't draw attention to it," I said, taking out wads of cash from my jacket pocket and pressing them into her hand. I closed her fingers around the money.

"No, Daniel, I-"

"Yes, Mom. Take it," I insisted. I leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Tell Nicky that the best person in the entire universe says he loves her. Don't change a word."

She chuckled a welcome sound. "Love you."

"I love you too, Mom," I replied, then turned and left her house. My visit to her place didn't exactly go the way I'd hoped. I had this idea in my head, you know? I thought I'd walk into her house, and she'd whip up one of those amazing home-cooked meals she used to make. The smell would waft through the air, and we'd sit down at the kitchen table, having one of those deep, heart-to-heart conversations. I needed someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't judge me or get tangled up in the mess that was my life.