The time said 8.55pm on the table clock and I shuddered, glancing at Mommy. Daddy wasn't home yet and that was a bad sign.
He worked at construction company downtown and anytime he wasn't home by 6 or 7pm in the evening, it meant he had gone to Charley's bar with his friends. He often came home reeking of strong whiskey and he would get into fights with Mommy.
“Soon, Jackson,” Mommy whispered to me one night as she tucked me in bed, her left cheek bruised and one of her eyes almost swollen shut. “I'll take us both from here. Soon, okay?” I nodded, tears filling my eyes.
That was two weeks ago. Every morning, I woke up and wondered if that day was the day we would up and leave.
That night felt different. I could feel it inside and was nervous because Daddy had stayed out late again.
Mommy kept pushing her potatoes around with her fork while rubbing her tired eyes. I picked at my mashed potatoes as I had no appetite for that or whatever Daddy would come up with that night.
The rumble of Daddy's old jeep came up the driveway and my stomach dropped. Mommy's gaze widened in fear as she looked toward the front door. “Go to your room, Jackson. Now.”
I pushed my chair back and ran but didn't make it upstairs fast enough when the front door opened gently. I froze, noting that the door did not slam into the wall as always.
Daddy stepped in and closed it, smiling at me, his face red from the cold and a bad gash around his hairline. I could smell whiskey on him but there was no angry look in his eyes.
“Whoa, Jackson. Where are you going in such a hurry?” He said, his voice sounding different.
“Welcome, Daddy. I'm going to bed,” I replied, my voice barely audible before Mommy dashed into the foyer, her gaze darting between us.
“Oh, that's early.”
“No, Mark. It's past his bed time,” Mommy said, her voice calm. She turned to me. “Go on, Jackson.”
I hesitated for a moment, expecting Daddy to laugh or call me a sissy or grab my shoulder. Instead he looked at Mommy then me for a long moment before sighing, his jaw dropping to his chest. Mommy had gone completely still, her body partially blocking me from Daddy.
“Mark? What are you doing?” She asked, confused.
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the floor instead. “Been thinking about some things,” he said looking at Mommy and me. “I've been a horrible person…for that, I'm truly sorry.”
I expected him to turn mean but I saw shame in his eyes. Mommy did not answer. He lowered his eyes again. “You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”
The next day, I was dumbfounded as Mommy and I took the evening bus out of town with our packed bags.
“But Mommy…he said he's sorry,” I whispered. She had leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes.
She slowly opened them, smiling at me. “Your Daddy got beat up at the bar last night. I guess that made him a changed man but for how long, huh?”
She cupped my face and pressed her forehead against mine, the way she always did when she put me to bed. “I always keep my promise, Jackson. Let's save ourselves first.”
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "no appetite for that”.
Thank you for visiting my blog.
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