Sorry again for the hiatus guys! I'm getting this chapter up thanks to the wonderful Spring Break. The weather here has been absolutely gorgeous so I've been spending more time outside rather than on the computer. Only 6 more weeks left of school and then updates should be a lot less sporadic.
Here we go! Chapter 3!
Zephyr was a big girl now. Seven years old was too big to sit in Dad's lap and read comics. Seven was too big to be tucked in. She did remember how, when she was little, how she used to climb into her father's lap after he got home from work and he would tell her stories and let her sip his coffee sometimes, when he wasn't tired. They used to have company over often, and she'd listen to their soft chatter flit around the warmly lit room like so many sparrows before she fell into a deep, untroubled slumber. Before she went completely into unconciousness she liked to pick out her parents' voices. She was lulled by the sound of Dad's breathing, his heart beating calmly in his chest.
Company didn't come anymore.
Now when she returned home from school she went almost immediately to her room. Her mother's schedule was sporadic and Zephyr's housekey was used extremely often. Her father didn't return home from work until after it was dark. Sometimes her mother came home afterward, and they'd argue.
"Where have you been, Anora?"
"I've been out, Jack. I had errands to run and I grabbed a drink at the bar. You're not my keeper."
Arguing was not exactly new to Zephyr's ears; everyone's parents fought at one point or another. But this arguing was different. It seemed pointless and spontanious. They would go to bed angry; nothing was resolved. The words had more fire, their intentions to cut and hurt. Her parents flung insults at each other as children do.
Zephyr shut her door to the argument and went to the side of her bed, praying.
"God, I'm sorry we haven't been at church lately. Mom and Dad...I don't think they want to go anymore. Don't be too hard on them. They try, they do. It's just hard. It must be. I'd appreciate if you could help them out a bit. Amen."
She was about to change and climb into bed when she heard her mother calling her.
"Zephyr! Zephyr come down here!" The voice was stern and angry. Not violent, but not the maternal voice she loved, either. Kindness was absent from the tone. It scared her. But big girls are brave. She crept down the hall and stood timidly in front of her fuming parents.
"Yes, Momma?" She asked, swallowing hard. She'd always been able to hide when they fought. Now she was out in the open in front of their anger. She'd never seen them like this.
"Tell your father I left a note for you telling you where I was. Go on, tell him. You saw the note, didn't you?"
Note? No one had ever left Zephyr a note. She was confused and shook her head in a negative gesture. Her mother must be mistaken.
"N-no, Momma. You don't leave notes." Her mother's face clouded and her father winked at her before turning angrily to his wife.
"You can't even leave a note for her?" He yelled. "What are you doing drinking, anyway? You should be here taking care of her!"
"I'm here more than you are!" She shot back. Anora possessed the classic red-head Irish temper. She was fiesty and not afraid of her husband or, it seemed, anyone else. "And you should talk about drinking." The adults had forgotten their child, and she watched them, scared to retreat. Instead she observed her parents and their frantic mannerisms.
Her mother had stopped caring about herself as much as she used to. She used to like to dress nicely for when her husband returned from work. Now her clothes were wrinkled and her eyes were bloodshot. Zephyr noted the smell of cigarettes emanating from her, along with another scent she couldn't identify.
Her father was stressed. His hair was just barely turing gray at his temples, and he had large bags under his eyes. Often his voice was cracked and hoarse. He almost never smiled.
The argument grew heated and the small girl shrank back as her father did something she'd never seen him do before.
He raised his hand against Anora.
"No, Da!" Zephyr screamed, confused. This was not her father. This had to be someone else. "Don't let it get the best of you!"
Jack looked at her and stopped. The tears had srpung to his eyes already. He knew what was happening to his family and he couldn't stop the downward spiral. He lowered his hand, strode into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle from the fridge, and made his way tiredly to the bedroom he usually shared with his wife, and slammed the door. Anora shrank into the armchair in the living room, lighting a cigarette. After a few moments she saw her daughter staring at her.
"Go to bed, Zeph," She commanded, hoarse but firm. Zephyr shot to her bedroom and closed the door. She shrank to her knees once again.
"They try, they do."
Zephyr's life fell into a pattern. As she grew, she became accustomed to the abscence of at least one of her parents and the despondance of the other. Her mother constantly had a cigarette between her once lively lips, and her father almost always had a bottle in his hand.
When Jack drank, his temper became horrible. He went from raising his hand to actually striking Anora, and eventually Zephyr as well.
The first time it happened she felt it as a blow far worse than it once. He'd smacked her across the face for not being in bed on time. It shocked her more than anything. Tears sprung to her eyes and she tried to pull away from her father, who softened and apologized repeatedly. She forgave him for hitting her, at least until he began hitting her out of anger and not for reasons of discipline.
She learned quickly to hide her bruises; she knew that if anyone found out they'd take her dad away, and then who would she have? Her mother disappeared for days on end with no calls. She'd reappear, glowing, but when her gaze fell upon Jack she'd glare, almost with a sadistic triumph. She had bruises too.
They tried, they did.
One day, when Zephyr was ten years old, she came home from school to an unlocked door. There was a man's jacket and hat on the table, but they weren't her father's- he never wore hats and the only jacket he wouldn't refuse to wear was one of the ancient jean variety. The smeel that wafted from them was familiar- it was that stench she'd detected on her mother. Her parents' bedroom door was closed and, she discovered, locked. The sounds coming from behind it scared her back into the kitchen, where she stayed utnil a few minutes later, when, surprisingly, her father came home.
His eyes were clear and looked years younger. He smiled as he saw her.
"Hey, Zeph," He laughed, swooping her up in his arms. She laughed. Her dad was home. After all this time he was home. "You know what? I'm tired of living like this. I got a raise today. We can move to a nicer apartment in a nicer area, and we can leave all this behind. Tonight we can-"
He stopped and froze mid-sentence, staring at the hat and jacket on the table.
"W-what's that?" He asked, putting Zephyr gently on the floor. She shrugged. Anora laughed from the bedroom as the door opened and she stepped out in her robe. She saw her husband and child in the kitchen and stopped, the elusive smile disappearing.
"Oh, you guys are home," she began nervously.
"What the hell is this?" Jack asked, holding the garments in his hand, thrusting them at her.
"Oh, um, those are...uh..." She couldn't think of anything to offer. Before anyone could say another word a man came out of the bedroom, buttoning up his shirt and zipping up his pants.
"Hey, now, what's going on, 'Nora?" He asked. He blanched when he saw the angry husband glowering at him, jaw clenched.
The man was tall and blond, his eyes blue, his smile charismatic. Zephyr thought him handsome, but her father's expression told her not to fall for anything. Her mother looked like a deer looking down the barrel of a gun.
"Get out," her father growled, hurling the hat and jacket at him. the man put his hat on and touched the rim of it with his middle and index fingers as he passed Zephyr.
"Neal, you don't have to-" Anora began, but Jack shut the door in the interloper's face. He looked to Zephyr as if the anger was just a last-ditch effort not to collapse. He looked crushed.
"Neal? That's his name? Goddammit, Anora. He leaned against the wall, running a hand down his face, then rubbing his eyes and supporting his forehead with the same hand. After a few moments he kicked a kitchen chair over. "Why are you such a whore? God, why'd you do this to us?" He smacke dher, harder than he ever had before, and got a bottle from the fridge. Before he could sit down and open it Anora had retreated in tears to the bedroom and Jack himself collapsed, sobbing into his folded arms. His daughter, nearly in tears herself simply because she didn't understand, went to hug her father. He pushed her away. She left for her bedroom.
A few weeks later, a man in a suit and tie came to the apartment. Zephyr's mother and father signed some boring-looking documents. A few days after that, Anora dropped her wedding band on the table and walked out with a suitcase in hand. Zephyr watched, crying, from her window as she got into a car with Neal. She grabbed the wedding band and hid it in her drawer before her father found it. Her family was gone.
They'd tried, they had.
Rire in: Yes, closer to the meat! I'll try my best to get the next chapter up shortly!