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“Sang,” my father called to me. “Don’t leave Marie.”
The words stung me. I pulled back from Kota, meeting his concerned face. The green of his eyes lost in the lack of true light.
“Put me down,” I asked him.
“No,” he said.
“Please.”
He grunted but lowered me until I was standing. The others parted, giving me an unadulterated view of my father.
My father appeared defeated now. His shoulders slouched, like all the times my mother yelled at him and he slinked off to do some laundry or go to work to avoid it. “Sang,” he said. “I’m sorry. I know it was hard for you. Will you please stay with Marie? I’m going to the hospital with your... with her.” He swallowed. “Don’t leave your sister.”
“We’re not leaving Sang,” Kota said flatly to him, the command overwhelming in his voice.
My father blinked, questioning with his eyes at the group around me.
Determined faces stared back at him. Strangers to him. I felt as if I knew them better than I’d known him. I’d lived with him all my life and he was the stranger among us.
“I’ll stay,” I said. Kota and the others started to stir to life but I spoke over them before they could tell me not to. “I’ll stay, but they have to stay with me.”
“You can’t have boys in the house,” my father said.
“They stay or I go,” I said, my strength returning. “They stay or I’ll tell the police what happened.” I had no idea what to tell the police and knew I wouldn’t do it, but I wasn’t about to be told what was best for me now. He was too late to rattle off parental rules to me.
His eyes narrowed on me. “Fine,” he said. “Just stay here until I can get back.”
My lips glued back together, but I nodded.
He flicked his eyes once more to the others, eyeballing the seven surrounding me. He jogged over to the car parked in the middle of the drive. He got in, started it and drove away.
“Not a goodbye to either of them,” Nathan’s voice drifted to me.
A New Family
Kota slept in my bed with me. The others were sprawled out on the floor, with blankets and pillows strewn all over. I’d opened my eyes several times during the night, warmed by the sight of them all.
Marie was in her room alone. She’d protested that we didn’t need to stay, but I’d made a promise and I kept mine the best I could. I wouldn’t let Marie sleep alone in the house, despite how she had participated. No one deserved to be alone. Not tonight.
Sometime near dawn, the sound of metal striking metal stirred me from sleep. Kota mumbled something next to me but sat up, rubbing at his eyes. “What’s that?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll go check it out.” I tilted to the edge of the bed, getting to my feet. When I stood, I swayed, shaking.
Kota stood, finding his glasses. “I’ll go.”
The others snuggled into the floor. North grunted, rolling onto his back, yawning. “I’ll go.”
“It’s not the boogie man,” I said. I stepped over someone’s head, tiptoeing over to the door.
The hallway was empty, as I expected, but oddly surreal to me. I stumbled down the front stairs, with Kota behind me and North behind him. Shadows. A wash of shivers swept through me. This would have never happened if my mother was still in the house.
I checked my parents’ bedroom. It was in the same state it had been the night before. No mother. No father.
I was still thinking of her as my mother. Habits were hard to break, but every time I did it, the memory that she wasn’t renewed itself. I didn’t have another name to call her, and I had no one to identify to replace the name with. I hadn’t had time to process it all yet.
The banging noise continued. North pointed toward the back of the house. We collected in the kitchen, moving together to the windows that overlooked the back yard.
My father sat out in the yard, a large trampoline in front of him in pieces. He was hammering the edges together.
“What the hell is he doing?” North said in mid-yawn, and scratched at his chest.
“I’ll go talk to him,” I said. “Stay here.”
“Listen to her giving orders. Isn’t it cute?” North said.
Kota found my hand, squeezing it. “We’ll stay,” he said. “We’ll be watching.”
“Like always,” I said.
I left them in the kitchen, padding over to the back door in the back of the family room. I’d hardly used that door, but it led out to the screened-in back porch. I don’t think I’d been inside the back porch since we’d moved in. It was too easy to be spotted from the kitchen.
I gazed out into the yard, watching my father piece together the trampoline. What was he thinking? What was he doing here? Shouldn’t he be at the hospital? Or at work? He worked all the time. What was wrong?
I opened the screen door to let myself out into the yard. My bare feet slicked over the dew covered grass. The air was thick with dawn scents, of mowed grass and mugginess. The neighborhood was still. A weekday. People were getting ready for work or school.
I trailed out to the center of the back yard, standing behind my father as he worked. I watched, stepping into view so he knew I was there.
“I was at the super store last night getting groceries for the house when I found this on sale. I always wanted one of these things,” my father said, not looking back at me. “When I was your age… I shouldn’t say that. You’re not that young any more. When I was a kid, I used to beg my parents for one. They said it was dangerous. I’d crack my head on the metal.” He was wearing the same dark slacks and the same polo he’d worn the night before. His eyelids sagged. Was he up all night? “I meant to get one for you two before now but never found the time.”
“How is she?” I asked. I felt annoyed. He made me stay the night. He lied to me for years. Now he was deflecting. I was tired of being treated like that.
He sighed, resting the hammer against his leg. “She’s still sick.”
“Cancer,” I said.
He gazed up at my face. “You knew?”
“I learned,” I said. “A couple days ago.”
His lips pursed. “Did she say so?”
“Nope.”
He turned back to the metal bars in his hand, started hammering. “I was going to tell you, you know. I was going to explain it to you one day. I thought when you were older...”
“I turn sixteen in a couple of weeks,” I told him. I folded my arms over my chest. I felt horrible, like I was being rude. This wasn’t me. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know how to share any sympathy or how else to address him. “How much older were you waiting for?”
He frowned. He started piecing together the frame for the trampoline again.
He wouldn’t even look at me.
“Where do you go?” I asked. “You weren’t in Mexico.” I knew this. I knew it was impossible he’d gone off that far and made it back in time last night.
He picked up another piece and started putting it into place. “If you must know, and you’d probably find out, but I’ve met someone else. Someone who already has two kids and she wouldn’t understand… this.” He waved his hand in the air toward the house.
My mouth hung open. “Are you kidding me?”
“Why do you think I’ve been working so much?” He dropped the hammer on the mess of metal bars and stood up. He looked down at me. “And don’t give me any grief. There’s seven boys upstairs in your room right now.”
How dare he? How could he look at me with those accusing eyes, as if I was just like him? He had no idea. He’d never understand. I wasn’t going to waste a moment explaining it to him. His opinion didn’t matter. “What do you want from me?”
“I can’t stay,” he said. “Your mother hates me. She doesn’t want me here. Her illness is bad. She’s getting not just treatment for the cancer but they say she’s being seen by a psychologist today. It might be months before she gets out.”
