Page 22 of Before We're More Than Friends
She whimpered, and I rubbed her black and brown fur. She licked my face like she hadn’t just tried to crush me, and I kissed her back on the nose. The girl could bury my jewelry in a cemetery, and I’d still return to her with open arms.
True love always comes back.
I used the bathroom and brushed my mangled hair before going downstairs to make myself waffles. When I came closer to the kitchen, a sweet aroma filled the air.
Who was cooking at nine on a Sunday morning? Francesca only made lunch and dinner for us, except on special occasions like birthdays. Dad usually worked out in the home gym at this time, and Mom and Arielle didn’t bother to roll out of bed before ten on the weekends. Sometimes Arielle would make breakfast with me if I woke up later than usual, but she rarely did it without me.
My question was answered when I walked into the kitchen to see Dad pouring batter into the waffle maker.
“Dad?” I rubbed my eyes, making sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
Dad jumped, spilling some of the batter onto the counter. “Oh, gosh.” He put down the bowl and put a hand to his chest. “I didn’t see you come in, Rain. Good morning.”
Rain. His special nickname for me. My heart squeezed inmy chest. “Sorry, Dad. Good morning.” I looked at the mess he’d made all over the counters. Our kitchen was pretty big, but Dad always created a war zone whenever he cooked. “I’m not used to you cooking.”
“I decided to make us breakfast for a change,” he said as he cleaned the counter with a rag. “I remember when you guys were little when your mom and I would make breakfast for you guys before church.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. We hadn’t been little; it was three years ago. Everything started changing that spring. Dad reached the height of his career while Mom fell back into her drinking addiction, both of them becoming detached from us. We hadn’t been to church since that Easter, and the Sunday morning breakfasts went away shortly after. I spent most breakfasts by myself, used to the emptiness at the dinette table.
“Is that okay?” Dad asked, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I know you usually make your own waffles?—”
“It’s great, Dad,” I said with a smile. “Do you want me to wake Mom and Arielle up?”
“If they’re not up by the time I’m finished, then yeah.” He nodded over to the dinette table, sun shining into the circle of windows. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” I said as I sat in my usual spot at the table, the chair closest to the windows. “Until Penrose tried to squash my chest.”
“Again?” He shook his head as he took the bacon out of the oven. “When she was a puppy, she used to do that to me. I hated it, but I couldn’t stay mad at her. Stupid puppy eyes.”
I shook my head. “I think we should get a cat next. They still sit on your chest, but they’re not big enough to crush your lungsandyour boobs.”
He rubbed his chest. “Good thing I never have the worry about the latter.”
I laughed. Dad rarely joked around, but when he did, it reminded me that the soft side of him was still there.
“Any plans this week?” he asked me. “Isn’t your school having that Saturday night party?”
“Yeah, the Saturn Frenzy.” Once a semester, our school had a Saturday night party with music, food, and activities. Families and people from other schools were allowed to come and help raise money for whatever the cause was. It was like a carnival, a dance, and a benefit mixed into one. This one was being sponsored by none other than the local animal shelter we volunteered at. The owner, Amy Landers, wouldn’t miss an opportunity like this. “There will be seafood this time.”
Dad licked his lips. “That sounds delicious.”
“Yeah, but I think Mom wants to hang out with us this weekend.” I just hoped she’d follow through this time. She hadn’t last time. Or the time before. Each broken promise made me lose faith in her.
Thumping came from the stairs. Seconds later, Arielle appeared with her golden-brown hair in a messy bun. “Hey, I smelled waffles and bacon.” Her eyes widened when she realized Dad was the one behind the counter. “Am I seeing this right?”
“Gosh, Ells, you don’t have to be that surprised.” Dad put the plates of waffles on the kitchen table. “Can you wake up your mom?”
“If she’ll wake up.” Arielle spun around and left the kitchen.
“She’ll wake up,” Dad muttered as he grabbed the bacon from the counter.
Pain pinched my chest at his tone. I doubted Mom was hungover since she didn’t go out to the gazebo last night, her usual drinking spot, but it felt too good to be true that we could have a normal family breakfast again. I twisted my fork aroundon the table four times, resisting the urge to start eating my waffles.
After Dad placed bacon and glasses of orange juice on the table, Arielle came back with Mom trailing behind her.
“Ah, the beauty queen awakens,” Dad said, a smile breaking out on his face. I didn’t remember the last time he smiled at Mom that way.
Mom’s cheeks flushed as she combed her messy brown hair with her fingers. “Thank you for making breakfast.” She sat at the table, and Dad sat beside her.
