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Angela Shepard wasn’t tall enough to reach the stove.
To her chagrin, her brother was.
She could just barely peek over the edge, she was eye to eye with the pan. Curly could see over the edge of the pan. Which is why she’s stuck sitting in the living room working on both her and Curly’s homework while he made them grilled cheeses for lunch.
It’s better anyway, she told herself, Curly’s shit at math.
She couldn’t hear anyone but her and Curly up and about. She could hear her mother snoring in her bedroom. Tim had long since left home, he was working down at Mr. Richard’s butcher shop.
She didn’t hear anything from her father’s room. Not snoring or movement.
It was peaceful.
The second her mom and dad both got up, it was more than likely the day would devolve into a mess of screaming matches and sobbing-crying on the part of her mother.
Right now was the most peaceful it would get, doing her (and her brother’s) math homework on the living room floor while Curly was in the kitchen and everyone else was asleep.
She didn’t understand how adults could sleep so long. It was lunchtime and only the kids had gotten up yet.
The sun was high in the sky and Curly had just called out “5 minutes, Ang!” when she hears the door to her father’s room open. It had been Curly’s room for a while after they turned 3 and he had up and left, but Curly was back to sharing a room with her now that they were 6 and he was back.
It seemed like he’d be back to stay. He had gotten all lovey with Angela, Curly, and their mom. He was always talking about family.
Maybe her parents didn’t sleep in the same bed like some of the other kids’ parents did, but they loved her.
In their own way.
She doesn’t have to get fancy gifts and hugs everyday like those prissy little West side Socs to know that.
She hears him walking near silently down the hallway.
She spares a glance towards the door to the living room, only to see the tail end of his coat passing by.
She sighs, before pushing herself up and climbing to her feet.
The front screen opens and shuts quickly, but quietly.
She doesn’t bother with her sneakers, just opening up the screen door and standing on the porch, feeling the cold water seep in through her socks.
It was January, and it had rained last night.
“Daddy?” she questions, watching him load something into the backseat of his old, blue Chevy.
He snaps his head towards her and smiles.
“Hey, Angel.” he says.
She screws her face up in confusion. “Where you goin’?”
Sometimes he would go on trips for days and come back with a dopey smile on his face but his eyes were too clear. And usually, those times, he’d leave in the middle of the night and she’d wake up the next day to find Tim in the kitchen like he had been the first time her dad had left them.
But his eyes were too clear.
“Don’t worry about that, Angel. Just go back inside and finish up your homework. Progress reports will be coming out soon.”
She bites the inside of her cheek. He never really cares about progress reports and report cards and honor roll and stuff, even though she makes all A’s every time.
He cared about himself and her mom.
There were a precious few moments his eyes would be clear like this and he’d act like a real father (like the ones the prissy West side Soc kids had). He never left when he was like this.
Tim always said this was him “in his right mind.”
“But where’re you goin’?” she asks again, squaring her shoulders a bit and picking up her chin.
“I’m going out. I’ll be back by tonight.”
Angela let her guard down a little, sitting down on the steps. “What do I tell mom?”
His smile drops. “Tell Elena not to wait up.”
Angela tilts her head a little but nods. “Okay.”
And then, he’s getting in the car and driving away.
He doesn’t leave behind any tire tracks on the pavement, the tires don’t screech on his way, he doesn’t leave in a hurry. He drives slowly down the street and turns the corner.
The only thing he left behind was some drops of water from his exhaust pipe, darkening the street.
But those were temporary.
She could feel it in the air that him leaving was final.
When he told her to tell her mom not to wait up, it confirmed it.
He wouldn’t come back.
Still, she drew her knees up to her chest and waited.
Curly comes out less than a minute after he turns that corner and she rests her head sideways on her knees, turning to look at him.
“He gone?” Curly asks, sitting next to her with a plate that has two slightly-burnt grilled cheeses on it.
She nods.
He nods.
It’s silent.
They both pick up a sandwich and start eating it.
It’s painstaking , waiting there with nothing to do. She thinks, a couple time, that Curly might get up and leave, if only to escape the silence he so hates, but he stays there sitting next to him.
At some point, she’s not sure when, it becomes more of a competition. I can stay sitting here longer than you.
By the time the sun is almost down and Tim is walking down the street, there isn’t a part of her that isn’t numb or frozen.
Tim pauses slightly halfway down the street before picking up the pace and coming to a stop in front of the steps. “Hey, guys.” he says, crouching down slightly, a hand on each of their shoulders.
“Tim.” she says, her voice coming out more of a croak from the inactivity.
He frowns. “What’re you doin’ out here?”
“Dad’s gone.” Curly says.
Tim’s brow furrows. “Gone? Fuck you mean he’s gone? Like he left?”
She nods. “Told me to tell mom not to wait up for him.”
Tim’s eyes light up with a new fury and he stands, ushering them both up too.
They get up at the same time.
Angela enters the house first.
She leaves their math homework discarded on the living room floor, going into her room and laying down on her bed. (Because it’s not Curly’s anymore. Not now that dad’s gone. He gets his room back. Its not a fair trade.)
She lays on her bed even though it’s too early to sleep, and she closes her eyes, praying that sleep will come.