***
After a quick shower to wash away the demons, I dress and check myself one last time in the mirror. Before I hit the first step to go downstairs, I smell Dad’s famous pancakes and bacon. So, they aren’t famous in the conventional sense, but in the Monroe house, Dad makes the killer pancakes, and Mom? Mom doesn’t make anything anymore. I run a hand through my hair and push the thought back before I can get angry with her again.
“Sailor,” Dad calls out from the kitchen, and I enter to find him sitting at the table with his hands steepled. This isn’t good.
“Hey, Dad, smells good. What’s the occasion?”
“Can’t a dad just have a good breakfast with his daughter on their first official day of their new lives?”
I raise my eyebrows, not buying it. There’s something more here and I am trying to properly prepare myself for whatever it is he is about to unleash on me.
“Right, have a seat. I need to talk to you, and I think the breakfast table is the best setting for what I have to say.”
Oh yeah, definitely not good. I wish I could just jump out the window and make a run for it. I could probably make it on foot in no time. I’d be late, but at least I wouldn’t really be dead.
“Well, I hope you can talk and eat quickly or else we are both going to be late for our first day to our new lives, Dad.”
I grab a plate of pancakes and two strips of bacon and scoop out a nice helping of scrambled eggs. My chair skids on the floor as I pull it out and take a seat and I wince, knowing Dad will have something to say about scuff marks on the floor, but he doesn’t. Instead, he clears his throat after a sip of orange juice and wipes his mouth.
“Yes, but I have been working on my stern face to show you how displeased I am with you disappearing for hours and coming home late. Like, another day late.”
“Wow, that sounds like a lot of work. Is a hearty breakfast part of the package, because if it is, I think you might need to brush up on your definition of a stern face.”
I cram some eggs in my mouth and chew furiously. He’s making me more and more nervous by the second. He can’t seriously be going to make a joke of this and not punish me at all. If I keep my mouth full and busy, maybe I won’t have too many snide remarks for him, because let’s face it, they’re not helping.
“It was. I missed an episode of Cake Boss.”
He doesn’t do serious. Mom always did this part better. She was the scary one. Poor Dad, he doesn’t stand a chance.
“Well, since you worked so hard on it, let’s see it,” I say, still shoveling food in my mouth.
He sticks out his chin and narrows his eyes, looking down at me with them. It takes all of my power not to laugh at his goofy face.
“Wow, impressive, Dad. Almost believable.”
Crap, my tone is definitely not as lighthearted as I intended. Instead I sound as sarcastic as I look, I’m sure.
“Thank you,” he says, crossing his arms.
I pushed him too far and he is finally getting angry. When he gets angry his Adam’s apple has a vein that ticks away, and his neck to his ears gets fire engine red, like it is now.
“Does that face come with any kind of punishment? Or is it more like a preview for the next time I mess up?”
I’ve pushed it this far. I might as well go all out and get it over with.
“It’s a preview but it comes with a verbal warning. Now I am thinking about tossing in a punishment for your attitude this morning, young lady.”
I shake my head.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t sleep well.”
His expression softens, and I feel bad about my sarcastic comments. I feel even worse for the lies I’ve told him about where I was yesterday. But it’s not like he’d believe me if I told him the truth.
“Biscuit, I was terrified that something happened to you. The only thing that eased my mind was knowing that unlike New York, we are now in a small town and it’s relatively safe. However, the same rules apply. We stay in touch with each other. We don’t just disappear for hours without so much as a phone call. Is that clear?”
“Yeah, Dad. I’m sorry.”
“Good. And while I’m glad you made friends, you still have a curfew. And you will be in this house when you are supposed to be or you will be grounded. Am I understood?”
“Yes, but I told you I had no cell…”
“Sailor Vivian Monroe. Do you understand me?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Good.”
We glare at one another for a moment, until I look away. It’s one thing to have endured that look from Mom, but from my dad? I can’t have him angry at me. He’s all I’ve got now. Dad gets up and comes around the table.
“Honey, I’m so proud of you for making friends so quickly. I just want to make sure you are safe,” he says as he wraps me up in a hug.
I relax into it. After Mom’s death, we kind of grew apart. Hugs are a bit of a commodity these days. When he pulls back, there are tears in his eyes.
Not the waterworks, Dad. I can’t handle it when you cry.
He stares into my eyes, a faraway look in them.
“You look so much like her. Your mother,” Dad says, his voice soft but laced with sadness.
I swallow against the lump, but the waterworks and his voice are almost too much and I look away. In the corner of my eye, I see his head turn away too and his breath breaks as he inhales deeply, catching at the back of his throat. He’s fighting really hard not
