Going Through the Motions

Chapter 7 - Smashed to Pieces

* If you began reading this story prior to January 11th, 2015, major revisions have been posted that affect the plot and storyline. 

The smell of roast beef hits Ash as soon as he walks through the front door. Tossing his bag onto the floor, he heads up the stairs towards the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom.” At the stove, he grabs a piece of potato from the tray. Popping it into his mouth before his mother can slap it out of his hand. “Hot, hot. Jesus Christ.” He frantically waves his hands in front of his mouth.

“See what happens when you act like a piss ant.” Without sympathy, she hands him a stack of plates and jerks her head towards the table.

“Gee thanks.” He laughs and begins to set the table. Before long, the entire family is sitting around the table watching Penelope piling her plate with food.

“P, dude?” Ash’s eyebrows rise inquisitively.

“What?” She mutters around a mouthful of roast beef and gravy.

“That’s like half a cow.”

“Hungry.”

“No shit.”

“Ash!” Their father scolds.

“Sorry, Dad. What I mean is jeepers, sister dear, you’re appetite sure is hearty these days.”  He makes a golly-gee movement with his arm.

“When exactly did you become such a smart-ass?” Their father shakes his head.

“First, Mom calls me a piss ant. Then, Dad calls me a smart-ass. Aren’t you supposed to be the problem child?” He turns to his sister.

“”I’m an angel.” Grinning, Penelope grabs another spoonful of potatoes from the dish on the table.

“A hungry angel.” Her mother remarks from across the table. “Have you eaten today?”

“I’ve increased my runs by almost 5 km. I’m just hungry.”  Shrugging, Penelope crunches a piece of broccoli between her teeth. “You have plans for tonight, Ash?”

“Apparently.”

“How’s that?”

“Emmette thinks I’m in a funk because of Brooke. So, he’s making me do something with the guys.”

“You have been extremely cranky this week.”

“What’s going on between you and Brooke?”

“Are you serious, Dad?” Penelope’s eyes widening in surprise. “They broke up.”

“Really? I didn’t know.”

“That’s because you never ask me anything about Brooke.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Ash stares down his father. “Why is that, Dad? Why don’t you ever want to know anything about my girlfriend?”

“Ash.” Penelope whispers, pushing her foot against his leg.

“Stop it, P. I want Dad to tell me why he doesn’t take any interest in my personal life.”

“You’re a teenager, Ash. Aren’t you supposed to want me to stay out of it?” Mr. Chisholm shifts in his chair, turning his gaze away from his son.

“Aren’t you supposed to be prying? Telling me about sex, and protection, and stuff? You cared when I dated other girls, so the problem is clearly Brooke. Why is that, Pops?”

“Ash. Leave it alone.” His mother’s voice is soft and she stares at her plate. Clearly upset. Ash slowly realizes that he was probably the only one who hadn’t known what was going on between his father and his girlfriend’s mother.