Life After Taylah
Page 12

“Macy?” I say, walking in.
She turns to me and in her hand she’s got a giant knife. My heart stops beating. For a second I can’t breathe. Everything in my world stops and panic rips through my chest.
“Baby, put the knife down.”
She looks down at it, and then back up at me. “I’m doing washing,” she says, beaming. “Mommy is sleeping; she forgot to make supper for me. I was washing so I can make it for Daddy and me.”
My heart breaks. It tears in fucking half.
“Daddy is here now,” I say softly. “So I’ll take us somewhere real nice for supper, okay?”
She nods and drops the knife into the sink. I let out the breath I was holding and lift her into my arms, pressing my nose to her hair and breathing her in.
“Go and watch cartoons. I’ll tell Mommy we’re going for dinner, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
I put her down and she runs into the living room. I turn and stalk down the hall, angry, fists trembling. I get into the bedroom and Lena is sprawled out on the bed, sleeping. I walk over to scream at her, but stop dead. She’s been drinking; I can smell it seeping off her. I take the final few steps towards her and lean down, shoving her shoulder. She groans, rolling over and blinking her eyes open. She stares at me, eyes bloodshot.
“What the fuck are you doin’?” I bark.
“What’s the problem, Nate?” She yawns. “I was sleepin’.”
“The problem,” I hiss, “is that your daughter was at the sink, alone, with a fuckin’ knife in her hand, tryin’ to make me fuckin’ supper because you’re in here passed the fuck out.”
She sits up, scowling. “I was napping.”
“You’re fucking drunk!” I roar.
“I had a drink with a friend; get over it. Macy was watching cartoons.”
“She had a fucking knife!”
“Jesus, Nate. Are you always going to treat me like this? I’m doin’ the best I can.”
My fists clench and unclench. “I’m going to take her out for supper. When I come back, you better be out of this fuckin’ bed and acting like a decent mother.”
I turn and head to the door. “Get me something,” she murmurs, lying back down.
I lose it. I turn and I storm in, reaching down and lifting her by her shoulders. I haul her out of the bed and slam her onto her feet. I get right up in her face, nearly gagging at the pungent scent of alcohol on her breath. “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. This. Bed.”
She starts to cry—only this time it doesn’t work. I’m not giving in to her. She made a mistake - drunk, not drunk, it doesn’t matter. My daughter is everything to me, she’s the only reason I fight in this broken marriage. If something happened to her...no. I won’t let it. I won’t.
“I swear to fuckin’ God, Lena. You better be sober by the time I get back.”
Then I storm out of the room and into the living area.
“Ready to go, baby?” I say, forcing my voice to sound normal.
Macy jumps to her feet and takes my hand. “Can we go to McDonald’s, Daddy?”
“Anything for you, baby.”
~*~*~*~
AVERY
I unlock the front door to my apartment and step inside. The first thing I see is Jacob, leaning against my stark-white countertop, staring at his phone. He looks up when I throw my pack down and he smiles at me.
“There you are. I went past the studio but you weren’t there.”
I shrug, walking over and pecking his cheek. “Dancing was cancelled so I decided to take a walk. I came across some motocross racing and so I stopped by and watched.”
He looks up from his phone and raises his brows. “You went to a motocross race?”
I brush it off as casually as I can. “I just came across it. I didn’t feel like coming home so I watched a while.”
He nods and focuses back on his phone. “Fancy going out for dinner?”
I stare at him and then nod with a smile. “Sure, that would be lovely.”
“You have a shower and we’ll go.”
“Can we walk?” I ask. “It’s a lovely night out.”
He nods, waving his hand. “Sure, whatever you want. We need to go past your dad’s house first.”
I sigh. “Why, Jacob?”
“He wants to see you.”
“I called him three days ago.”
He gives me a stern look. “Stop being so selfish. He’s an old man and he’s alone.”
“I know that,” I snap. “Look, whatever, we’ll go, okay?”
He glares at me but I don’t let him answer. Instead I turn and head to the shower. I don’t rush as the warm water washes over me, and I certainly don’t rush when I’m dressing and putting makeup on. I end up opting for a pair of skinny jeans and an emerald-green turtleneck sweater. I pull on a pair of black, strappy heels and I throw my hair up messily in a clip. Then, with a sigh, I head out and meet Jacob back in the kitchen. He takes his coat, doesn’t give me a second glance, and we walk out of the apartment.
My father lives two blocks down and around the corner, it’s close enough to walk, and yet, out of the two of us, I’m the only one who ever makes the effort. My father never comes to me. Jacob pushes me as though it’s my fault my dad is alone, but he never makes any efforts for me, so why should I with him?
Jacob and I walk in silence, he doesn’t hold my hand. He’s still got his nose in that stupid phone.