Page 66 of Sunday

“That’s exactly how I felt that day, baby girl.”

I rubbed my daddy’s shoulder, and he pulled me down onto his lap. He kissed my forehead, and I giggled.

“You do realize that you’re not going to be able to do this much longer.”

“Daddy, I haven’t sat on your lap since I was twelve years old. I doubt that I’ll be doing it again anyway.”

I threw my arms around him and closed my eyes. My chin rested on top of his head, and a single tear escaped from underneath my closed lids. I cried for what my father had endured, for what I’d done in my past, and for the destruction I was creating now.

“It’s okay, baby girl. Everything will be all right.”

“You know what it’s time for, Sunday,” Mom declared.

“To go home and face the music?”

“Exactly. I know you were planning to stay with daddy and me for this next week, and as much as I love having you here and spoiling you, you need to make things right with Aspen’s daddy.”

I smiled at the way she worded that.

“I do need to make it right. Come on, Mommy. You can help me pack.”

“All right. And we can have a little girl talk while we are at it,” she declared.

I got off my daddy’s lap and saw him absently rub his knee.

“Sorry. This baby’s put a few pounds on me,” I professed and rubbed my belly.

My daddy smiled brightly at me. “It’s all right, baby girl. It’s all right.”

I left the den and headed with my mom to my old room.

Sunday

Islipped quietly into the apartment. I left my parents’ home just before the sun rose. I knew that Cedar would still be asleep by the time I arrived. He slept until nine on Sundays usually, and then he would hop up and cook our brunch.

I missed those brunches. The last two hadn’t been exactly relaxing and peaceful. I removed my shoes and left them in their spot by the door. Slipping my purse off, I hung it on the hook over the shoe rack and placed my keys on the foyer table.

I stayed still for a few moments because I could feel the energy of the house. It was off. I knew that Cedar was home because his car was parked in the garage.

Walking into the living room, I spotted him on the couch. He was knocked out, and empty beer bottles littered the coffee table and the floor around him. My heart melted. Cedar wasn’t a big drinker. He usually drank only when we had company on the weekends, but looking at the number of beer bottles lying around, unless he’d had a big party, he’d been drinking a lot more lately.

There were empty pizza boxes, fast food containers, and snack wrappings lying around. That was another thing. Cedar wasn’t a slob, but the living room didn’t speak to that at themoment. I sighed heavily and called his name. After calling his name a third time with no response, I shook his shoulder. He snored and turned his head in the opposite direction to face the couch.

I walked back into the kitchen, grabbed a trash bag, and slowly began to fill it with trash. Once I’d finished, I returned, grabbed the dishes, and took them back to the kitchen. I rinsed everything and stacked them in the dishwasher before running a load.

Finally, I turned my thoughts to preparing brunch. Sadly, there wasn’t a lot in the refrigerator or pantry. It looked as if he hadn’t been grocery shopping since I left. Apparently, he’d been struggling as badly as I had been.

I made layered ham and cheese biscuits and frittatas. I prepared coffee for Cedar and poured myself a large glass of orange juice. I glanced at the clock and noticed that it was half past eleven.

I returned to the room to find that Cedar had switched positions, but he was still just as out of it as he’d been before. I shook him harder this time and called his name.

“Cedar, baby, wake up. Cedar!”

When I shouted his name, he sat straight up, leaned back, and threw one fist up and the other arm out to block.

“It’s me.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, lowered his defensive posture, and rubbed his eyes.

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