Noted

Chapter 5

The next morning, I walked into the kitchen to find my father sitting at the breakfast bar with his head in his hands and still wearing his clothes from the night before.

"Dad?" I asked softly, not wanting to startle him.

"What?" It was all he answered. He got up from his stool and headed towards his bedroom.

"Is this about mom?" I asked, "You know she's going to be fine," I added, trying to console him, assuming this why he had been drinking so much lately.

"This isn't about your mother," he yelled from the living room, bringing me back to the argument. "I just had a few too many drinks with some colleagues. Go to school, and mind your own business." His words cut deeply.

I knew he was just being harsher than usual because he was hung over, but the last time I saw him like that was the previous year when they found out that mom had ovarian cancer. As I remembered, that was what truly started all of his weird behaviour. I thought that maybe people grieve differently, but I knew deep inside that there was more to the story.

After several failed attempts to communicate with him, I decided to leave. It was pouring out-side, so I grabbed my coat and put on some rain boots, but I realized I lost favourite blue umbrella. I searched everywhere but it had disappeared.

"Just great..." I thought. I really didn't want to walk in the rain or make a run for it again. I  decided to go with a cab.

I leaped out the front door, trying to spot a free cab, but, for the first time in my entire experience of living in New York, the street was completely absent of yellow cars. It felt strange to me. Yellow taxis were to the streets what trees were to Central Park; abundant, necessary and ever-present. Thinking that maybe the thick sheets of rain was blinding my capability to see them, I waved my arms. This was one of those moments I really regret not agreeing to a car service my family had offered me. But no, I wanted to be like everyone else, with the real people of New York.

Suddenly, quite out of the blue, the pouring rain appeared to be–somehow–less violent over me.  I wondered if I was losing my mind. I looked up to discover that I was under an umbrella. I turned around and found Troy holding two coffee cups in one hand, and a giant umbrella over us in the other. He wore a big smile and gestured for me to take a cup.

"Wanna' walk with me?" he asked with his trademark smile.

"Are you going to make a habit of this?" I asked, taking a cup of coffee.

"Only if you want me to."

I wanted to say yes, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

I took a sip of coffee, it tasted so familiar. "Is this coffee from Danny's?" I asked.

"I guess," he replied, and asked, "Is it the red one with the big statue of liberty on it?"

"Yes!" I replied, enthusiastically. "It's the best coffee in the whole city." I added, amazed at how–out all of the food trucks–he'd managed to pick my favourite one.

"I agree," he replied, as we started walking. I linked arms with him, it felt good and safe. "Do you want me to walk you home tonight? Or you could stay at my place if you need to. My mom wouldn't mind." he added.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm okay," I replied firmly. "Besides, he's only ever like that when he's drunk."

"And how often is he drunk?"

We stared at each other in silence. I chose to not answer that, it wasn't his issue. I wasn't his to worry about.

"Thank you for saving me this morning, by the way." I said instead.