That Sunday, at dinner, Audrey finds herself silently lost in her thoughts.

She keeps her head down, and all that's heard are the sounds of cutlery clinking on the table.

Her dad sits across from her at the table, but it's like he's still miles away.

That's what Audrey always thought.

Daddy, why do you smoke a lot?

He looked at young Audrey, chuckled, then smiled rather affectionately.

'Baby, I need'a smoke to fill the potholes in my soul.'

She doesn't remember how long that was ago. She was still a young girl then, Audrey remembered. A time when Dad didn't have such a scraggly beard that he had on now. So it must have been over ten years ago. Twenty, since he came back.

"Audrey."

She doesn't answer.

"Audrey, I'm talking to you."

"Yeah, dad?"

Audrey finally mutters in a low voice.

The man clears his throat roughly. His voice is monotone, hard from years of chain-smoking no doubt, but if he was mad, Audrey could never tell. Only monotony.

"I heard you got picked up by the cops. Is that true?"

"N-No… I'm sure it's probably one of my friends. I was there…"

"Audrey, be honest with me kid."

He speaks in a low, almost soft voice, but Audrey knew better than to push it.

"Yes, sir…"

He sits up straight and faces her.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, sir."

The man wrinkles his eyelids at her, watching Audrey carefully. But he doesn't say anything else. "Okay," he finally says.

He says, "I hear that boy who works at the auto shop downtown was the one who bailed you out."

Audrey doesn't say a thing.

"He's a good kid… father's served as well. A whole lotta better than you, an' you can learn from that. Raisin' a kid's hard enough, to be a decent god-damned human being no less…"

Audrey keeps her thoughts to herself. He must be mad, she thought. Dad trails off at the end, but I catch it all. Can tell he's irritated, but he never does what I fear he could do. I know for a fact my Ma would belt me across the face if I came home to her apartment, which is why I found myself rather coming to stay the night at my Dad's.

Audrey doesn't say anything still. Her chest burns a little. So does her cheeks. If Audrey was ashamed, or insulted, she didn't show. She didn't even know; maybe it's both.

"Audrey, kid."

"Yes, sir…"

"Audrey. Don't get into trouble. Stay away from drugs."

"Yes, Pa… it won't happen again, I swear."

Audrey mumbles. When he stands up, she waits a minute before doing the same and clearing up the table after.

The man sits out on the porch and when Audrey is done washing the dishes and wiping down the table, she tentatively steps out the screen door. He's smoking a cigarette. A bottle of booze beneath his wooden chair, with about a drop left at the bottom.

Audrey doesn't see where his eyes are looking - he's got his cap pulled over - but she bet he's still staring hard across the yard, across the horizon. His mind still out there somewhere. Audrey only wonders. He's here with us, but just like Ma, he's not really 'with' us. I don't feel anything much for both of them.

Her dad doesn't say anything more. Audrey pulls on her brown leather jacket and brushes off her jeans. The jacket was just about the last gift she ever got from her dad two years ago. At least it looked cool, she always thought. That accounted for something I guess.

Audrey walks down the steps, down the cement path, and turns on the curb. She does take one last glance back at her dad.

Her dad doesn't stir. Somehow, Audrey realizes that the more she looks back, like this, every time before leaving home, the more the emptiness in her chest grows. She continues to walk on then. When Audrey is sure she's out of his sight, she pulls out a crumpled pack of Marb Lights just like her father's from her breast and heavily lifts a cigarette to her lips.

.

.

.