I took the room closest to the attic, the one that had been mine before I had moved upstairs. The bed was small, the mattress uncomfortable, and the posters on the walls a reminder of a time when life was a lot easier. No dead mothers or wives, no shootouts, no drug rings killing away at our youth. My desk was at the same wall, under the window because my mother had believed that the view would help inspire me to work hard. Beside it was the closet that at one point in my life had seemed massive, and now just stood there collecting dust.
I lifted my suitcase onto the bed, and took a step back when the dust flew up in small clouds. I was going to have to change the sheets, probably even clean the whole place up, and just the thought of it made me groan.
Kelly’s room first.
“Obviously, Janice,” I whispered in reply to the voices in my head. I shook my head, wondering just when I would start having full-on conversations with them that would make me look like I belonged in a fucking asylum.
I opened the closet, cringed at the sight of the cobwebs, and closed the doors again. Out of my suitcase it is, I thought. The smart thing to do was get this place cleaned up now, but with the exhaustion from the drive and the fact that my leg was screaming bloody murder, I decided it could wait.
Maybe even sleep on the couch?
I sighed, stretched and ran a hand through my hair before exiting the room and making my way downstairs.
My father was in the kitchen, the stove on and his nose buried in one of my mother’s old cook books. He was frowning, obviously confused by what he was reading and completely out of place with the flowery apron he had on.
“Hey, dad,” I greeted, opening the refrigerator and being greeted by a sight I had gotten used to over the years; nothing. Well, beer and eggs, but little else other than what looked like baked potatoes with enough green on it to make you gag.
“Hmmm,” Samuel offered in reply. He scratched his head and squinted at the page in front of him. “What the hell is a ‘dash of garlic’ anyway? How do you measure that?”
I grabbed a beer, closed the refrigerator and sat at the kitchen table with a grunt. “When was the last time you actually cooked anything in here?” I eyed the pot sitting comfortably on the kitchen counter, gleaming in a way that assured me it hadn’t been used for years. Actually, the entire kitchen seemed spotless, the sure sign of a room unutilized.
“I usually eat at The Red Roof,” he mumbled. “Anything I try to make ends up burnt anyway.”
“Do you actually have anything to cook?”
“Bought a few groceries on my way here,” Samuel replied. “Thought if I’m going to have to take care of two people other than myself, might as well make sure they eat properly.”
“Thought this through, have you?”
“Apparently not enough,” he answered, flipping through the pages and trying to make sense of what he was reading. I smiled to myself and took a drag from the beer.
“This is hopeless,” he said, closing the book and taking the apron off.
“Don’t do that,” I said. “The colors suit you.”
“Alright, wise ass, I get it,” Samuel smiled, shooting me the fatherly look he usually gave me when he was exasperated. “How’s Kelly settling in?”
“Offered her the attic,” I said. “She’s asking about the Wifi.”
“The attic, huh?” Samuel opened the fridge and took out a beer for himself. “Alex Logan giving up his hideout?”
“Passing it on,” I replied as he sat down. “She needs the space more than I do. I think she’s sick of her old man.”
“Kids her age usually are,” Samuel waved. “You weren’t any easier at her age.”
“She’s twelve and already acting like I should be sending her off to college.”
“They grow up faster these days,” Samuel nodded. “Surprises me every time.”
I shrugged and took another swig of the beer. Samuel sighed, took off his hat and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. He looked great for his age, but it was only now that I noticed how deep his lines had become and the bags under his eyes.
“I’m waiting for the day she asks me for her own place,” I said.
Samuel chuckled. “Believe me, when she’s gone, you’re going to wish she had stayed.”
“I know,” I smiled. “It’s not easy, though.”
“Preaching to the choir, son.”