As I sit home alone, I reflect on what I remember of last night. He was a cute, sweet boy, I don't think he's done anything bad, he seemed so pure and innocent and mysterious. Though I don't think he told me his name.
I hear a slam downstairs. "Alyssa!?" My dad screamed up the stairs, most likely drunk. "What daddy?" I asked yelling a little so he can hear me. "Get down here and make me dinner" he said in a rude tone. I quickly got up and ran downstairs to avoid getting yelled at. "Where's mom?" I asked. "Who knows" he spat and walked off into his room. He's been a bit nicer lately, though Mom just got a new job so she's never home and that may be the reason. They constantly fight but they both don't have enough money to leave eachother. And even though they are both horrible parents I can't help but love them, because they, or at least my mom, tries. And that's almost all that matters.
I hurry to the kitchen and quickly make the families favorite food, spaghetti. We use to be a normal family that ate together and got along and loved each other and barely fought. I stared at the finished spaghetti and teared up as though is were a symbol of our past. I quickly wiped away whatever tears I had an yelled to my father. "Dad! Dinner is ready!" I hear him stumbling out of his bedroom and come down the stairs. He walked into the kitchen and stared blankly at what I made. He scratched his head and looked me in the eyes. Had he remembered? Had he regretted what he's become? Was he disappointed in our family? I felt as though I could see hurt in his eyes. But then that quickly went away as he reached for his plate like it ne'er happened and that whatever it was, was nothing.
Except, I soon realized I wasn't imagining the previous event when he sat down at the table and looked at me expectantly. I grabbed all the utensils needed and grabbed us both our meals on plates. I half smiled to myself. Was this really happening? We haven't done this since I was about 11.
*Flashback*
Me and dad were sitting at the kitchen table as we do every night, tonight we were eating our favorite meal, spaghetti. Mom wasn't home because she was at the doctors because she was 8 months pregnant, (she was having her usual monthly checkup). Our dog started barking signaling mom was in the driveway. Though suddenly the atmosphere had changed. She walked in, he makeup was everyday and she was crying. Oh no. There's something won't with the baby, he must show signs of disorders or disformation or autism or something. My mind was racing, mom was in love with this baby. But mom had always been strong, I'd only ever seen her cry once. She came in and hugged me and dad, "what's wrong?" Me and him said in unison. She began sobbing on dad's shoulder. "I lost her!" She screamed and fell to the ground. "D-dr. Reinheart said I had a miscarriage and that she was gone!" She began screaming again. We helped her up and hugged her again. Then, teary eyed, we sent her to bed to clear her mind.
*Flashback end*
Mom walked in. Me and dad became wide eyed as we stared at eachother. Mom walked into the kitchen clueless and silent. She looked at us while we were both staring at her. "What?" She asked confused. I forced a smile and wiped away the memory. I got up and hugged her like I haven't in forever, (which was true, I hadn't). "Get dinner" I smiled again. I feel like everything just started to become so much better. Step by step, it will take a while but we can try to puzzle our family back together.
