she's leaving home 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒 [𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐰𝐨]

II

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐈𝐈.

"papa?" molly yelled, setting her keys on the counter of his apartment.

"i'm in here!" she heard her father say from the dining room. "how was work?"

she sighed, throwing her purse on the couch and slipping her loafers off. "exhausting," she admitted. "there were plumbing issues in the hotel, and i had to run the front desk all day long. that's why i'm late for dinner."

her father came around the corner and pursed his lips. "that's too bad," he hung her purse up and went back to making dinner.

"what have you done all day?" molly asked curiously.

"work, nothing else."

she turned her head and looked outside the window to see the sun already setting at just a quarter to seven. shouldn't that be too late for the sun to set? no, probably not. "what's for dinner?" she asked, standing to her feet to get a look at what she would be eating. "it's not stew again, is it?"

"you're getting tired of stew, aren't you?" it was stew.

molly closed her eyes, rubbing her temple, frowning. "well, i think it tastes just fine. it just gets old after two weeks."

"oh, stop complaining!" her father waved her away. the wrinkles in his old face crinkled into a frown. she rolled her eyes. "you know, some kids come home to no food on the table! you should be grateful-"

"papa, i choose to come here every night," molly explained. "i have perfectly good groceries at home, yet i come here," she told him, waving a finger around in the air as she did.

her father sighed, stirring the stew once more before pouring it into two large bowls. "you'll live."

"why do you have so much stew and nothing else?"

"it's from work," he said, frustration upon his face. he grabbed two spoons and plopped them into the bowls. molly followed him into the dining room, under their chandelier and sat down. her father worked as a chef at a restaurant. he cooked most of the meats and he was free to take anything that wasn't served that night. he had three freezers full of meat. "i just need to get rid of all this meat..." he slurped the stew, chewing a carrot and shaking his head.

"then why can't you make meat tacos? meatloaf? spaghetti? why stew?"

"i have soft teeth, molly," he said in a very matter of fact voice. "as you said, you can just go home and eat if you really don't like my stew."

"whatever," she muttered, shoving another spoonful of stew down.

there was an awkward pause in the conversation. the sounds of slurping and spoons on the plates filled the quiet room. "so," her father began. "how's your boyfriend?"

molly swallowed. "he's not my boyfriend," she said. "but i'm seeing him tonight."

her father smiled and took another bite. "i've always liked lucien, always have..." she nodded along with him. molly met lucien at a pub downtown. he had shoulder-length blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. he was a looker. all the ladies loved him. "he's a good boy, right? treats you right?"