Lies, Mistrust and Fairy Dust
Page 27
I rub my tattoo while staring into the basically barren fridge. Faith. Belief. Assurance. Three things that my father would expect me to keep close to me because he did it. Three things that are getting harder to hold onto along-side his principles and fading memory.
I decide to make macaroni and cheese, green beans, and lemon chicken, items obviously no one wants when they have the munchies because it requires too much effort. Slowly, I get everything started at the same time I get the dishes washed. Swinging back by our room, I creak the door open to grab our laundry basket, at the same time Mak is brushing one of her princess dolls’ hair. Not being noticed I grab the hamper, so I can begin washing clothes, knowing tomorrow is ‘I wanna wear the pink and green polka dot shirt you lied and told me mommy bought last year’ Wednesday. I'm just thankful that she only has the one shirt that matters so much to her and that accidents in her underwear are damn near non-existent. Potty training her early saved money I really couldn't waste on pull-ups. Those things are fucking expensive.
As soon as the laundry is going, I return to the living room around the corner to pick up after my mother. For the most part I consider her my other child. At first I take a glance around at the blood smeared wall, the torn apart maroon recliner which has a pile of clean laundry on it, and the wobbly coffee table I have to fix three times a week due to its excessive use for my mother’s sexcapades and my daughters frequent coloring. Amazed that no matter how many times I try to tidy the place up, it still manages to appear this way. I take on my cleaning routine again.
The collection of beer bottles and cigarette butts are not only disgusting, but dangerous for Mak to be around. I once saw her lips pressed against an empty bottle because she said she liked the whistling sound it made. Ever since that moment she has never been allowed to play where I haven’t cleaned and looked over. Sometimes I wonder if my mother just forgets she’s got a baby granddaughter around the place or just doesn’t care, but either way someone has to be responsible for the place and it makes the most sense it’s me. After throwing away the large amount of drug excess, I do an extra sweep between the couch cushions remembering the one time I found a bottle of pills there. My eyes scan the room once more spotting an empty needle underneath the coffee table. Not sure if I should be more terrified that Mak could have come across this while she was poking at my mother or more pissed off my mother had the nerve to leave it in the living room where Mak could have access to it. I transfer it to the kitchen, put it in a plastic container, and dispose of it in the house trash where I make a mental note to take it to the dumpster the minute MaKayla has fallen asleep.
I vacuum, give the surfaces I know Mak can touch another wipe down, and drag my homework out from my backpack. I spread it out on the floor beside the coffee table so that my daughter may enjoy her coloring session before bed.
“MaKayla,” I call to her only to be greeted by her attendance instantly. “Do you wanna watch your favorite movie while we eat dinner?”
“Yes please!” She squeals crawling on the couch behind where I’m sitting, flopping herself and her bear down.
Popping it in the DVD player, which I scored from a garage sale a couple years back, along with the movie, I let her watch the previews she’s seen a million times as she giggles helplessly. That sound makes all this shit worth it. The cleaning. The long hours of work. Barely sleeping because of homework. All that is worth it for just one second of that sound.
I return to the kitchen to stir the macaroni around a little bit more just as the chicken has finished baking. With a heartfelt smile on my face, hearing the movie start I grab her princess plate and matching cup along with an adult plate for me. The amazing balancing act I do to carry the plates and her drink into the living room receives another giggle right before she starts to sing along with the first song in the movie. I place the plates down on the coffee table, set up her mini chair so that she may eat at the coffee table, and plop her down in it. Not even really caring she’s got dinner in front of her she picks up her fork and begins fighting with the green beans to stay on it while continuing to sing along.
With my own plate to the side of me, I open my calculus book that I swear grows larger every damn day, and begin to do my homework in hopes I can finish in time to go to bed with her.
Other books by Xavier Neal
Senses Series:
Vital (Prequel) Found in Interwoven
Blind (Book 1)
Deaf (Book 2
Numb (Book 3)
Hush (Book 4)
Savor (Book 5)
Callous (Book 6)
Agonize (Book 7)
Suffocate (Book 8)
Mollify (Book 9)
Senses Series Box Set (Books 1-5)
Havoc Series
Havoc (Book 1)
Chaos (Book 2)
Insantity (Book 3)
Collapse (Book 4)
Devastate (Book 5)
Havoc Series Box Set (Books 1-3)
Never Say Neverland
Get Lost
Lost in Lies
Lies Mistrust and Fairy Dust Adrenaline Series
Adrenaline Series
Classic
Vintage
Masterpiece (Coming Soon)
Connect with Xavier Neal
Links: www.xavierneal.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/XavierNealAuthorPage
Twitter: @XavierNeal87
Goodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4990135.Xavier_Neal
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