August 3A Chapter by Calypso
over my food diary from yesterday and I realized I only had chicken soup and
some crackers. I hope Dr. Small will understand that I was sick.I couldn't imagine being set back a level for being unable to hold down food.
I woke early (like 5 am) to find Dad sleeping on the couch. The TV was still on a movie channel and some black and white movie was playing. I figured he feel asleep while watching one of the channel’s older movies. Dad always keeps his blanket on the back of the couch so I pulled it off and covered him.
I was wide-awake at 5:30 and I knew it was futile to sleep. I brewed coffee and spent the next four hours on Facebook.
“What are you going up so early?” I turned around to see Dad, half awake with blood shot eyes.
“I woke up early.”
Dad smacked his mouth as if there was a bad taste in there, “I’m making breakfast. Want some?”
favorite breakfast is corndogs wrapped in beacon and dipped in gravy. If he’s
too lazy to make gravy he’ll dip it in. Sadly he considers this cooking. Considering
his cooking skills it is creative, I'll give him that.
“None for you?”
Once he sat down at the table to eat he said, “Why don’t you call Abigail?”
“I guess I might…”
“I’ll be gone for a few hours too.” He used his index finger to pick something out of his teeth. “Will you be okay?”
The air changed when he said that. I would be an idiot to think that he forgot last week.
So I didn’t have to answer him I picked up the phone and called her. She said that she couldn’t come last week because her tires busted, but could come now. Abigail said she should be here by 3pm, the same time Dad had to be at the church.
It so happened that she showed up three minutes after he left.
I could see it was her threw the peephole in the door. As soon as I opened the door she busted threw and hugged my torso.
“Hello sexy lady.”
I giggled softy. I automatically took the Wal-marts bag from her.
“Oh my ziggales you’re going to love this!”
Abigail has always been very eccentric, something I’ve come to realize I need at times. On the other hand she can be sober and calm when need be. Despite all of this she tends to be sillier then serious.
“Well what is it?”
“Orange sorbet and M&Ms.”
Oh joy. “How kind of you.” I opened the bag and saw a pint of the sorbet with the bright, smiling faces of the cartoon M&Ms.
“Do you mind if I played some music?”
I took the pint of sorbet into the kitchen and answered, “Oh course not.”
She plugged her lime green Ipod into my Ihome and put it on Taylor Swift. Abigail danced over to me as I pulled two small plastic bowls and an ice scoop from the dishwasher.
She kept dancing as I placed the ice cream scoop into boiling hot water. Abigail never could dance (she reminded me of Ellen DeGenerous she did) but it wasn’t worth spoiling her fun.
Once the scoop warmed up I stepped out of her way to let her scoop herself two large scoops of sorbet. I scooped out half the amount she did.
She sat at the table and I went to turn off the music.
Once I sat down the elephant in the room seemed to grow twice as big. I knew this would be hard.
“I’m sorry.” I whispered into my bowl. Using the tip of my spoon I pushed around a red M&M and leaving a red trail in its path.
“You would have said something, anything.”
I just shook my head.
“I never thought you were bulimic. I’ll admit that once or twice I wondered but I blow it off because I didn’t think you were … vain enough.”
“It has nothing to do with vanity.” I quickly hissed “and everyone thing to do with feeling like trash. I saw other lives better then mine.”
Abigail stood up and took her bowl to the sink. “I’m sorry. I’m just… scared. What if you die?”
I almost volunteered that I could have but I instead told her how Dad found out. I finished with, “And if he wouldn’t have found me I would have never looked for help.”
“What’s it like there.”
I told her about my normal day and therapy. For some reason we walked over to the ‘psuedo’ fireplace as we talked.
After I finished talking there was a five second pause. It was long enough for me to count one Mississippi, two Mississippi…
“How long have they been dead?” She pointed to the glossy photo of Dad, Mom, Morana and I.
“Mom has been dead for 8 years and Morana has been dead for 5. If she would have lived she would be 21 now.”
Once again the pause was long and sad. She turned around to go somewhere else and I turned the frame over for no reason at all.
© 2012 Calypso
A Forgiver in Ivory
AboutI'm a full time college student, part time worker. I'm two years away from my bsw! In my free time I read, write and sim. Check out my tumblr blogs some time. http://emmy-1127.tumblr.com/ more..
People who liked this story also liked..