Dad grunted as he pulled out his chair and sat down. It was the invitation for the rest of us to sit, and the meal commenced, as it did every other night.
Nobody bothered to retrieve Mom from upstairs—we never did. She would come down later, when she felt like it—ifshe felt like it. Dad didn’t care if she was present as long as we were. We were his army to command while she’d just been the vessel from which we were born.
Dad led us in the saying of an emotion-barren rendition of grace. We waited for him to serve himself before we filled our plates. And then, after he lifted his fork and took the first bite, we all followed suit and began to eat a mealIhad made.
And all the while, I watched my father.
I waited for him to look satisfied, impressed, happy—something. I waited for him to expressanykind of appreciation for the time I’d spent cooking a meal that was not only edible, butgood. Honestly great. Hell, I’d say even better than what my mom cooked on any given night, and I wanted him to say something, to tell me that, for once, I had done something to earn his praise. Somethingright.
But he said nothing. His expression remained as stony as ever, and with every silent moment that passed, the more my shoulders slumped and my pride in my newfound ability wilted.
Then, when he was finished, he stood from the table and dropped his napkin onto his dirty plate.
“Maxwell,” he said as he turned to leave the kitchen.
“Yes, sir?” I asked, pathetically heartbroken over something I now realized had been a pipe dream.
“Wash the dishes,” he said. “And from now on, it is your responsibility to cook dinner.”
No, I wanted to say. Cooking dinner meant less time after school. Cooking meant I couldn’t go to the library or find the time to hang out with Ricky. Cooking meant losing any bit of freedom I’d managed to keep … but I couldn’t. I couldn’t say what I wanted to say because my life was only an extension of his, and I lived it to serve him.
“Yes, sir,” I muttered.
“Hey!”
My father’s booming voice cracked against my ears, and I straightened my spine and raised my head so fast that I thought my neck would snap.
My eyes met the disapproving fury in his as he sneered, “Watch your attitude, boy.”
He said that last word with malicious connotation. As if to remind me that I was still just that. A child. Aboy. Someone who depended on him for food, shelter, affirmation.
I hate you, I thought as I stared into his dead, emotionless eyes, only to immediately feel the shame of having thought it at all.
Do I hate my father?I wondered as he stomped away, and I looked at the table of used dishes and dirtied utensils.
I didn’t really know what it meant to hate him, but that would imply that I had at least once loved him, and I wasn’t sure about that either.
Do I even know what love is?
I had seen other kids in school with their girlfriends and boyfriends, giggling and staring into each other’s eyes with sickeningly sweet looks of adoration on their faces.It grossed me out, and I snickered with Ricky as we passed, but … Iwantedit. I wanted to feel love in such a deep and intense way, and I didn’t know how the hell to get it if not from the people who had given me life.
I mean, Ricky at least had his mom. She loved him. She was proud of him. She thanked him for what he did around their house. And if his dad were still alive, I was sure he would’ve felt the same way.
What the heck did I have?
I didn’t know how long I stood there, thinking and holding on to the back of my chair with a viselike grip. But then Grace—or maybe it was Lucy—touched my arm. I looked up as the hand pulled away and I saw the faces of my sisters.
“Dinner was good, Max,” Lucy said quietly.
“It was better than Mom’s,” Grace added.
I parted my lips with a heavy exhale before forcing them to smile.
“Thanks, guys,” I said.
Then they helped me clean up the table and put away the leftovers. I sent them upstairs when it was time to do the dishes. I could handle that.
Hell, I can handle anything, I decided as I scrubbed and dried the plates and forks and glasses. Iwouldhandle anything becausetheyneeded me to.
