Voice of Desirae Part 6
NoV: Oya, oya.....summer is very heatalicious.
Bisho: Heatalicious?
NoV: Anywho, here's part 6!!
Desirae was a quick eater, Malcolm noticed, as he nimbly cut and ate his cheesy calzone. She downed mouthful after mouthful of steaming spaghetti, pausing every once in a while to sip her soda.
"It's better than I thought it would be," he mentioned, in a congratulatory manner. Though she nodded and smiled gracefully, he felt that he might be overcompensating her. Or maybe that was because she didn't reply to anything. He lay his plastic knife on the plate of half-eaten calzone and cleared his throat. "So.....do you.....go to school?"
Desirae, already having cleaned her plate of any evidence of food, was ready to have a heart-to-heart with her father. She nodded.
"Really? I see.....do you....like school?" Malcolm asked, feeling like a jerk for asking pathetic questions.
She patted her cheek, and smiled. Then, she nodded. It was hard to tell when he was being serious.
"That's great," he said. "Well....did Rachel, err, your mom ever tell you what I do for a living?"
She shook her head. She smiled inwardly. It had been uncomfortable up until now that he hadn't seemed to want to divulge any of his "secrets." Ready to listen to any profession he would tell her about, she leaned back in her chair with a relieved sigh.
He had already worked up a great speech about his career, starting with "I work with numbers," but took her sigh as a sign that she was bored and wanted to go home. So, instead, he said, "Well, I'm sure you've probably got homework to do.....want to get some ice cream on the way back?"
Desirae tried not to show her disappointment and nodded, giving him a faint smile.
She smiled, and reached into her purse for her keys. She promised herself that she wouldn't cry until he had left her apartment and was driving off in his car. As she took a few steps into the living room, she stopped dead in her tracks and looked around, incredulously.
Malcolm followed her inside and said, "What the hell?"
All of the dirty clothes, the knickknacks, even some of the furniture were all gone. Pictures, magazines, the TV, all just disappeared. It was as if the room was unoccupied.
He looked to Desirae for some sort of explanation, but she gave him none. Malcolm, with much more ease now than before since the floor was relatively clean, raced throughout the apartment, calling, "Rachel! Are you here?"
He peeked into the kitchen, and nearly went to the next room. He did a double take when he noticed a white piece of copy paper pinned to the refrigerator with a cat magnet.
The note was simple, and to the point with its haunting message.
"Now you know what it's like to be walked out on.
Rachel"
Malcolm covered his face with a hand and turned around, nearly knocking Desirae over.
She snatched the note out of his hand and studied it, curiously. Malcolm thought she might cry and throw a fit, until she turned away and ran into her room, her expression unreadable.
"God.....god, god, god, god......" Malcolm repeated, bending over and laying his head on the counter. He laughed for a minute, in spite of himself, hoping he wasn't losing it.
A banging sound alerted him of danger, and he ran back into the living room, to see Desirae hauling a very stuffed suitcase. She set it down in front of him, and smiled up at him.
"No, Desirae," he said firmly. "You absolutely can't come home with me." He was steadfast in his argument. "My life is too busy and full for me to start taking care of a kid." He met her intense gaze. "I'm sorry. It's not my fault she walked out on you....." The letter suddenly came back to him, evocative and taunting him. "Now you know what it's like to be walked out on." Now he was left with the responsibility. He was left with everything he had left behind before.
"Let's go."
NoV: Yai! Chapter 6!