The imperfection we called our love | ✔

*Fourteen*

Monday was the day my dad finally came home, after what seemed like forever.

As I walked into the kitchen I greeted him, - and as promised I opted to be a ball of sprinkles and sunshine.

And I know I didn't see him for that long, but he looked somewhat different, almost strange, unfamiliar even.

But I ignored all that, because it was still my current life mission to bring him back home to us, his family. Sue me for still wanting my dad back.

Dad spotted me, our eyes met momentarily, I looked away first, I was never good at holding eye contact. Dad had almost smiled when he looked at me, keyword: almost- and to be completely honest I had expected a better response. I guess he just didn't miss me that much for me to have gained a more enthusiastic response.

Figures

He had not missed me the way I had missed him.

''Where's your Mom?'' my dad asked abruptly after a long two minutes of deafening silence.

That's when I realized

Shit! She wasn't home.

I had no idea what to say, do I lie she is doing something motherly, grief stricken that you have left us for so long, - feed Dad's ego a little bit? Or Do I tell the truth tell him I had no idea, she was always in and out, mumbling, stumbling around drunkenly day in and out?

Dad's eyebrows were raised in question, waiting for me to give him an answer

For the sake of our family reuniting again, I told a lie

'' I don't know, she might be at the grocery store getting some stuff '' I responded shrugging

That seemed like a safe thing to say,

Safe, - considering I didn't want my dad to know that mom was actually a giant mess, pursuing her seemed goal of becoming an alcoholic. Mom was also the one who usually cooked for everyone, while Matt and I had daily chores which we did. But she hadn't really cooked since my father's departure, which left Matt and I to get our own food. At first we ate pizza until I had no money left, then we resorted to eating cereal, eggs or whatever we found in the cupboards and fridge.

I offered my father a drink, which he declined with a wave of his hand.

''I think mom will be home soon'' I said reassuring myself more than him.

He simply nodded and fidgeted awkwardly with his car key on the counter-top.

I bit my lip

God! I wish I could make this less awkward.

Usually I would've just walked out, and left him in smouldering silence, but for some reason I didn't want to, because I was scared he might get up and walk out again.

I was about to offer to take his bags up to the room, when........

I spotted no bags.

Which begged the question, what did that mean?

Did that mean he wasn't coming home? That he had moved out permanently?

So then why was he here? Was he planning on coming back the next day or so? Or was he just here to tell us that he was moving out for good.

My heart picked up a beat

I excused myself and ran into my room dialing my mother's number probably the fastest I had in my entire life.

As predicted she didn't pick up her phone.

Splendid

I dialed eight more times, growing more anxious by the minute. Was dad still downstairs? Was mom having an all-nighter again?

I decided to try and stall for as long as I can, - Or well at least I was willing to try an attempt something that kept dad at home, even just for a few minutes more, - it didn't help that I was irrefutably horrible at starting conversation, and my dad was undoubtedly the most awkward person I knew besides myself, I assume that where I got my awkwardness from, put that together and you had a wonderful combo. - My mother was usually the social butterfly around here, despite everything else; she could literally make a conversation out of anything.

That was the one thing I wished I had inherited from her

When I got downstairs, I indulged my father about school related issues, light conversation, white lies about mom and Matt, - obviously leaving out the information about Matt accidentally stabbing one of his classmates in the side of his face through his cheek due to him trying to help some girl.

My dad spoke very little, barely anything, - if I might add, not even trying to make my task a little bit easier

Then a miracle took place right in front of me.

After the longest hour of my life

My mother pulled up in the driveway

I swear I had never been more excited to see her in the past few weeks than I was today.

But when she stepped in I regretted wanting her back so urgently.

She was a mess, her hair was a ruffled heap on her head, her eyes were dark, her clothes were mismatched, her cardigan buttons were not matched with the right holes.

I moved out of the kitchen as fast as possible, practically sliding into the hallway.

Behind me I heard my dad greet her talking in his dully muted flat voice.

I went straight to my room. - Sure I was eager to hear what they were saying, but too scared to actually stand there and eavesdrop

Pussy

In my room, I plopped myself on my bed laying on my back staring at the ceiling.

I shut my eyes, and took a deep breath

Please, let this work, let it go smoothly

I silently prayed.

After like a solid twenty minutes

I had high hopes now, yes, I had been skeptical before to how this meeting would go, since my mother was drunk, and my dad was never open to working things out when my mother found herself in states like that.

Guess there was first time for everything.

That's what I thought, and then....

I heard it.

I slapped my hands on my eyes

No! Why? Why? Why?

At first it was just mom raising her voice

Not long after that it was a bloody raging screaming war.

I was worried, but frightened at the same time. I rushed out of my room, spotting Matt across the hall as I did so, He looked confused, worried, scared, - Everything expected from a kid whose parents were in some sort of anger competition/argument.

I walked closer to the railway of the stairs to get a closer look.

''Fuck you! Fuck you! Okay, fuck you! '' My mom screamed walking away from my father, tears rolling down her cheeks

My father screamed back in response, his voice booming so loud that my body jerked back.

This was worse than what I had expected to happen

That night was the second time my dad had walked out on us.