Part II; Chapter 1

New Year 2025

The corral-style doors to the kitchen of the small diner swung open violently; Armand—the night manager of Sinclare’s–walked through, his thin lips pressed into an even thinner line. The usually busy kitchen came to a halt, all eyes fixed where he stood. Armand surveyed the status of the kitchen staff—mostly frozen mid-task, knives and other cutlery still poised. After several terrifying moments, Armand dropped his hands from his hips and made his way to the office, calling for me to follow.

With a collective sigh, my co-workers went back to work. Despite wanting to join them in their ignorance, I had no choice but to follow the stout old man. I poked my head into the office to announce myself, and Armand waved me in with his pudgy hand. His face was buried in paperwork, a confused expression on his face.

“Who placed the orders for the kitchen inventories?” he inquired, his words punctuated by a faded German accent.

“I did on Monday,” I replied, suddenly second-guessing the information. My memory had been spotty lately, sleep not coming easy since picking up the part-time job at Sinclare’s. I reached for the sent inventory orders. I flipped to the fax results sheet for the order dated Monday—it had failed. “Oh, no,” I grumbled, turning back to Armand. “I forgot to verify the fax went through. I’m so sorry, Armand; I don’t know how this happened.”

“I do,” Armand spat, yanking the order form from my hand. “You are always preoccupied. You need time off, eh?”

The time off wasn’t a suggestion or offer—it was a threat. Armand was not known for his generosity, and while he was no slave driver, he did not make practice of handing out vacation time. “No, Armand,” I assured. “I don’t need time off—it won’t happen again.”

Without another word, Armand waved me off, dismissing me from his office. I left, my head low, and went back to work. The rest of my shift seemed to drag on, and when my car wouldn’t start—again—I wound up on the bus to get home. My father’s truck sat in the driveway, exactly where it had been parked the last several months. I cautiously opened the front door and deposited my backpack by the keytable. Taking a slow deep breath, I called out to announce my arrival home.

At the sound of my voice, Abe came barreling into the hallway, nearly tackling me to the hardwood flooring. I pried his arms from around my waist, after allowing a hug. “Did you do your homework?”

“Yup! It’s on the table if you wanna check it,” Abe paused, following behind as I went to the kitchen. A pile of dirty dishes sat in the sink, overflowing onto the counter, and empty pizza boxes sat behind the garbage can. “Where’s Dad?” I asked, hopeful he had gotten out of bed today. He had been making progress since Christmas, but still spent the majority of his time in his room.

“Where do you think?” Abe replied, mimicking Junia as he rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna make dinner now? I’m hungry. Can we have lasagna?”

“There isn’t any lasagna left,” I replied. “And I have homework. Can you have a bowl of cereal or something tonight?”

Abe frowned at my suggestion. “I’ve had cereal for dinner all week! Besides, we’re out of milk.”

With a quick look into the refrigerator, I saw we were out of a lot more than just milk. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had gone grocery shopping; between school and work, and getting back onto the soccer team, I hadn’t had much time to do anything recently. Though I had made a point to keep up on the house cleaning and laundry at first, my absence was starting to show.

I made a mental note to stop at the store after school the next day—if my car would start—and quickly fixed my brother a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, despite his protests. After I made sure he was satisfied with the addition of a pickle and a handful of plain tortilla chips, I cleaned up the kitchen then grabbed my backpack and hauled it to my room. On my way, I stopped to let Junia know I was home, knocking on her door.

A loud “thud” came from the other side of the wood, followed by a string of curses from Junia. A moment later her door swung open. “What?”

I eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then looked passed her into her room. Nothing seemed to be amiss, but I didn’t lower my eyebrow as I looked back to her. “Just wanted to let you know I was home. Did you finish your homework?”

“Ugh, yes.” She clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“What are you doing now?”

“Minding my own business—what are you doing?” the defensive tone she took on only made me more suspicious, but I had too much to do before bed to bother with it right then. I left her to her privacy, warning her that I wouldn’t hesitate to call Grandpa if I thought necessary.

I set my bag down in my bedroom, then made my way down the hall, knocking on the door to Dad’s room. I waited several seconds after knocking, but didn’t get a response. I opened the door anyway; the room was dark, the only light coming from the street lamps outside the windows. My father’s figure was puffed up on top of the bed, my mother’s favorite faux-down comforter wrapped around him like a cocoon. Without regard, I flipped the overhead light on and pulled the covers away.

Dad grumbled something, his hand searching for the comforter I had deposited on the floor amongst his dirty clothes. “Katie?” He called out.

“It’s just me, Dad,” I informed him. “Get up; you’ve been in bed all day.”

“Shep? Are you just getting home?” his voice was clogged with sleep, and his confusion was apparent.

“Yes. I had to take the bus. Again.”

Dad sat up, looking at the bedside clock before turning his eyes to me. “What about the car?”

“The car wouldn’t start,” it was taking all of my strength to keep my voice even against the frustration building within me. “You were supposed to bring it to the shop, remember?”

His face fell into a guilty frown. “I’m sorry, Shep. I just haven’t been able to muster enough energy to get out of the house. I’ll try to do it tomorrow, OK?”

I sighed, knowing that by saying “try” he was giving himself an out. “I’ll just call Uncle Tay,” I offered. “Can I at least borrow the Explorer tomorrow?”

“No.” I had barely gotten the question finished before Dad’s quick, finite response. “Absolutely not.”

“But why? The damn thing just sits in the garage collecting dust! I don’t even know why you got it fixed if you weren’t going to let me drive it!”

My father shot me a look of anger, as if I had just offended everything he believed in. “You know why, Shepherd. The answer is no, and that is final.”

A growl rumbled in my throat; unable to maintain my composure any longer, I turned to leave, just barely overcoming the desire to stomp away as I made my way to the door. “She’s not coming back for it, Dad. You know that,” I managed before closing the door harder then necessary, hot tears burning behind my eyes.

The sound of glass shattering from inside the room caused me to jump, and rather than see what was broken, I hurried back toward the stairs. Junia poked her head into the hall, but I ignored her inquiring eyes as I went to check on Abe before getting to my homework.

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