Lonely Road

Dishes

''Shouldn't you be at work?'' Tiffany had woken up, gone downstairs and found her father sat much like he had been the night before. If it wasn't for his clothes being different it would have seemed as if he hadn't moved all night. Also instead of a beer bottle in his hand he held a mug, although Tiffany wouldn't put it past him to have some sort of alcohol in it.

''I took a sick day, rung up earlier while you were still in bed,'' he replied.

Tiffany just hummed and moved into the kitchen. She looked up at the clock on the wall, it showed that the time was just past one in the afternoon, she had to blink a couple of times to make herself realise that she had in fact been asleep for much of the day. Sighing she passed on the cereal and made a sandwich instead, as it was in a sense lunchtime.

As she plated up her food; she had found the plate in the sink and had given it a quick rinse before she used it. There was no dishwasher so everything needed to be washed by hand, but neither her nor her dad had gotten around to cleaning any; meaning it was just a case of washing it when you needed it. 

Her father came into the room the moment she sat on one of the old, rotting ,wooden chairs that sat around the family dinning table. He dumped his mug in the sink and stretched his back out. Tiffany cringed as she heard the popping and cracking noise that came with it. Then to her absolute surprise he turned the tap on, grabbed a half used bottle of washing up liquid and started to clean everything that had been dumped in the sink.

''Seems the sick day was justified,'' she mumbled as she took a bite from her sandwich.

''I heard that missy,'' her father playfully scolded pointing a soapy finger at his daughter.

''You've never washed up before, I just got worried,'' she joked, while wiping her mouth to get rid of any stray breadcrumbs, which had settled on her lips.

''Well I just came to terms with the situation Tiff. She's not gonna come back,'' silence fell, the house was completely still. Tiffany's father stood facing her, his back to the sink and the window that over looked their overgrown garden, he had at that moment been drying a spoon. It now hung limp in his hand.

Tiffany had been mid chew, when he had said the words. She felt her whole world come crashing down. The last person she had ever thought would lose hope was her father. He had always believed in everything Tiffany and her brother had done when they were younger, but he didn't even believe his own wife could be found. She opened her mouth to speak, the words she had wanted to say didn't come out. The silence was broken by a heavy fisted knock at the front door.

''I'll get it,'' she pushed the chair back to get up, the screech it made on the wood flooring cut into the silence like a knife. Composing herself and clearing her throat slightly, she made her way out of the kitchen and to the front door.
There was another knock, a tad lounder than the last. She grabbed the door handle in her  hand, which was a little slippery from sweat; a result of what her father had said. The words had made her nervous and she had begun to think the worse.

When she finally opened the door she was met with Future's fist, it hung in mid air ready to knock again. She was in all honestly a little surprised to see him. After glancing behind him and a little down the street, it came to her attention that he was alone. Not one of the guys were with him, which made her frown. Also she was sure he should have been at work, although as she looked down at her watch around her wrist she noticed that it was nearly three. The time then made her realise that she had either taken an abnormally long time to make her sandwich or the silence between her and her dad had lasted longer than she had first thought.

''What are you doing here?'' She asked leaning against the doorframe slightly as Future removed his fist from the air and shoved it in his jean pocket like his other was.