Brandon
Wensday September 25
We went sumwhere together again. This time we went to eat. I was sitting in front of the couch playing with my trucks when my Dad came home. The sun was still up, I couldn’t believe he was there. I wanted to run to the door and give him a bug hug, like I saw kids do on tv, but I knew he wouldn’t like that. I just called out, “Hi dad!” He waved and then walked into the kitchen.
“Where’s dinner,” my dad called out from the kitchen? No one answered. He poked his head into the living room. “Brandon, where’s your mom?”
“She’s upstairs.”
“Why don’t you put your shoes on and go wait for me in the truck?”
“Ok!”
I jumped up and looked for my sneakers as my dad jogged up the steps and went into his room. The door slammed behind him. I found one of my shoes underneath the couch, but couldn’t find the other one. I looked everywhere.
All of a sudden I herd a loud crash from upstairs. It sounded like a big glass breaking. It must have been the mirror on mom’s dresser. Then I remembered, mom took my other shoe when we came into the house. She said that she had to replace the string cause one part of it ripped off while I was at skool. As I climbed the steps to their room I heard a bunch of noises, I didn’t know what that sound was. When I was right outside of there door, I could here them talking. I knocked. My dad opened the door a little bit. “I told you to go to the fucking truck!”
“I was trying to, but I couldn’t find my other shoe. Mom,” I poked my head around him as I went to ask my mom where my shoe was. My mom was sitting on the floor next to her bed. She tried to turn her head and wipe her face with the pink blanket that layed on her bed, but I had already seen her tears. Just like I thought, the mirror from her dresser was shattered on the floor. I started to walk towards her, my dad blocked my path.
“Didn’t I just tell you to go to the truck?”
“But…”
He closed the door in my face. I started to walk back downstairs. A few seconds later the door creeped open and my shoe flew to the bottom of the stairs. I rushed and put my shoe on and went out and sat in the front seat of my dad’s truck wishing that mom wasn’t so clumsy. She was always falling into things.
I waited in the front seat expecting to see my dad and mom coming to the truck in a few minutes, but only dad came. When he started up the truck and began backing out of the driveway, I knew that it was gonna be just him and me again!
He asked if I was hungry. My tummy grumbled loudly and I told him that I was. Soon we were pulling into a little resturant with a red roof.
I tried to move in hyper-speed so that he wouldn’t be upset that I was going to slow. I hurried out of the car, sprinted up the five steps in front of the restaurant, ripped open the door, and ran right into the back of an old guy who’s shirt smelled like an old basement. The old man looked down and asked me where my parents were. When I turned to look, my dad wasn’t behind me.
My heart felt like it was about to rip from my chest. Did he leave me? Was this whole trip a way to finally get rid of me? How was my mom going to find me, I didn’t even tell her where I was going? My hand grabbed the oversized gold handle of the entry door and ripped it open. Our eyes meant imediately. He could see the tears that I was trying to force to stay in my eyes, I could see the disapointment in his. He hated when I cried, hated it. He looked away and into the restaurant as he slipped past me saying, “The lines not that long, relax.” Embarased by my distrust, I wiped the tears that had begun to stream down my cheeks and joined him in line.
My watch sat on the dresser in my room, so I had no idea what time it was or how long we were in the resturant, but it felt like we were there for hours. It must have been old people day, they were everywhere and the service moved just as slow as they did. My dad mentioned how slow everyone was going a few times, he even pounded on the table once. It made the bottom of his palm red, a red that matched his knuckles. Ecept his knuckles had a cut on them and had been red since he got in the car. His palm just turned red for a little bit after he smacked the table. We didn’t talk much, he looked angry. We mainly sat there and enjoyed each other’s company.