Ice in the thorns

The Lack Thereof

        The first Wednesday I went to my father's house, he had to hold me to his chest as I kicked and yelled for my mother, trying my best to wriggle free of his grasp. His clutch wasn't particularly painful, but just restricting in a way that was more mental than physical. 

        Although that day was hard for me, I'm sure it was unbearable for my mother. She hadn't planned on my father wanting custody for me. Truly, no one had planned on anything to do with me. 

        When my father took me upstairs, my chocolate-brown eyes took in the rumpled appearance of his home. The kitchen had a stainless steel side-by-side refrigerator that was directly on the right when you would walk in. Next to it was a well worn stove and a small portion of countertop. The countertop would have gone on for longer, if it hadn't been interrupted by a pantry full of protein bars and shakes. 

         The rest of the kitchen was just cupboards, countertops and a stainless steel sink. A dining table sat lonely like an island in the middle of the appliances. Directly adjacent to the kitchen was the small living room, which had a large green couch and a flat screen TV. He led me into the living room, sat me down, turned on the tv to a cartoon and went back downstairs.

        I sat still for a pretty long time. The show was mildly interesting, it had shapes and colors that did things and that was enough to hold my attention. For about five minutes. My small tummy began to grumble, so I timidly walked into the kitchen. I was fearful of being scolded by the man who had dragged me up and tossed me into this place, leaving me all alone. I missed my mom like crazy, and felt as if the whole entire world had forgotten about my existence. That empty feeling in my heart was the feeling I'd often get in the future, even when I no longer went to my father's house. 

        During the time I had been reminiscing of my mother, I sat down on the kitchen floor. The floor was white vinyl and had a glossy-clean shine. I put my head in my hands, and began to silently cry.

        In between one of my muffled sniffles, I heard small _click-taps_ on the floor. I looked up, startled, to see a large black-and-white dog standing curiously in front of me. I wiped off my runny nose with the sleeve of my pink shirt and stood up. The dog was almost taller than me! I cautiously pet his head, and he bent lower so I could reach easier. 

        Later, my father came up to find me and the dog snuggled next to the couch, watching spongebob and patrick warn off plankton. 

        "I see you and Ramses have gotten acquainted." He came and sat next to us. He smelled oddly of a cologne that might have been made of farts. "I'm sorry I left. Had some business to take care of." He pushed himself off of the floor and held his hand out to me.

        "I'll show you to your room. It's getting late, you should sleep." Although I did not want to, I put my hand in his and he led me through a hallway, a formal dining room and then turned to the left. There were two doors and he opened the one on the left. 

        The room was ugly, painted a tan and light green color. He pointed to a dresser and told me that there were clothes inside for me to change into. In the front of the dresser, to the left was a bunk bed. The bottom bunk was made with a light blanket and had a stuffed animal duck placed at the head to substitute as a pillow. The top bunk was messier and un matching- a green duvet hung over the side with multiple pillows scattered around, from what I could see.

        He said good-night and told me the next time I slept over, his other daughter would be in the top bunk. This excited me, as I hadn't expected to have any people around when I would be in his company. My excitement dimmed as he told me about prayer - the next time I slept over, I was to kneel down and pray with him as he did every night. I nodded and he left me for sleep.

        Sleep did not come easily after I had changed. I tossed and turned, feeling the lonely ache in my heart. I thought longingly of my mother and her huge bed. I could already tell, my father's house was not going to be one of enjoyment.