Broken Wings (Broken Wings 1) - Page 80

“You don’t have to hang around,” Del said. “Thanks for the ride.”

“I don’t mind,” I said, and he looked at me as if I had gone crazy. “What are you making them for dinner?”

“They love macaroni and cheese, and it’s no big deal to make.”

“Where’s your mother?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said. “She’ll come home and tell me she was looking for a job and lost track of time or something like that.”

He went into the kitchen, and for a moment, I had trouble swallowing. Dishes were piled up beside the sink, which was filled with pots. There was a garbage can with paper, wrappers, stained napkins spilling over the edges and on the floor. Used silverware was on the yellow Formica table, the forks and knives caked with old food. One of the chairs had been pulled near the cabinet, obviously to be used as a ladder by Shawn. The cabinet door was opened, and the box of chocolate donuts was on its side.

“She was supposed to clean this place up this morning,” he said, shaking his head. “She probably won’t even remember the promise.”

He sighed deeply.

“Well, let’s get to it,” I told him, and rolled up my sleeves.

He turned with surprise as I began to work on the pots and pans. I smiled back at him.

“Maybe if she sees how nice it can be, she’ll keep it that way,” I said.

“Right. Tell me another fairy tale,” he muttered, and went to the cabinet to get the macaroni and cheese.

Two hours later, I was still working on the kitchen. I had to improvise when it came to cleansers and soaps. They had very little in the pantry. While Del prepared dinner for his little brother and sister, I organized their dishes, cleaned the silverware and put it away, and did my best to wash down the broken linoleum floor. I cleaned the front of the refrigerator and the front of the stove as well, scrubbing out the stains with pure elbow grease. Then I went to work on the cabinets, organizing what they had.

I never thought about the time. I saw Del looking at the clock on the counter and realized he was waiting anxiously for his mother’s return.

“She doesn’t even remember what time I come home from work on days when I go in earlier,” he muttered after Shawn and Patty Girl had eaten and were sitting and watching television. “She couldn’t be sure I’d be back to take care of them, and she’s still not here.”

“Where is she, Del? Don’t you have any idea at all?”

“She has these friends, barflies. I’m sure she’s drunk or high on something somewhere. Someone will dump her off tonight. Usually it’s not a pleasant sight, Teal, so I wouldn’t hang around much longer if I were you. Besides, don’t you have to get home?”

“I’ll just call,” I said, seeing it was already well after six-thirty. Dinner at our house was promptly at seven. It was Saturday night, and my parents were going somewhere for sure, but by now my father surely must know I’m not home, I thought. He would see my empty place at the table and he would look for the Lexus and as my mother often said, he would “go ballistic.”

“Can’t use that phone,” he said, nodding at the one on the wall. “Our service was shut off three days ago. I didn’t know she hadn’t paid the bills for months.”

“Oh. Don’t worry. I have a cell phone in the car,” I said.

“Just go home,” he said despondently.

“What are you going to eat tonight?”

“I don’t know. Eggs,” he said sharply. “Who’s hungry?”

“I’m hungry. Where’s the nearest supermarket?”

“Go home, Teal.”

“I’m all right. Really,” I said. “Besides, it’s Saturday night.”

“Some Saturday night,” he muttered.

“I know. I’ll get us one of those ready-made chickens or something. Where’s the nearest place?”

He told me and gave me directions.

“You sure you want to do this?”

Tags: V.C. Andrews Broken Wings Horror
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