Chapter 5 Tonight I Skate
Charlotte
I walk home with the bags of actual groceries, biting into my fingers, and trudge through the snow toward the house. My arms ache, my toes are numb again, and the porch light is on, which is never a good sign.
That means Dad’s awake.
He’s sprawled on the old, musty couch with the television blaring, an empty bottle tipped on its side by his foot and another clenched loosely in his hand. His eyes flick to me the second I open the door.
“Where have you been?” he snaps.
I lift the bags, holding them up as the only proof I’ve got. “I went into town to buy some things for dinner tonight and lunches for tomorrow. I thought you’d be hungry.”
He snorts and slams the bottle down on the coffee table hard enough that I’m surprised it doesn’t break. Beer sloshes over the rim, darkening the wood, and I watch the way that seems to piss him off further.
“Yeah?” he says. “I was in town. Didn’t see you there.”
Probably because the first and only stop you made was the pub, but I keep that thought firmly inside my head.
I shrug instead and step past him, careful not to let the bags bump into anything. “You must have just missed me. Are you hungry?”
He grunts and turns back to the television, volume ticking up another notch.
I take that for what it is.
A win, as far as these things go.
The kitchen is cold and smells faintly sour. I set the bags down and start unloading, lining things up on the counter as I go.
I was careful and strategic with the cash I was lucky enough to get today. I got dish soap and a cheap sponge because the fridge needs a proper clean before I trust anything in it. I also got butter, toilet paper, a bag of apples and some bananas.
For dinner, I got a pack of chicken thighs and a few vegetables, nothing fancy, but I know with some spices I can make it taste like a decent meal. We can survive a day or two on this, and my shift at the diner tomorrow will cover the rest.
I fill the sink with hot water and scrub out the fridge shelves, fingers stinging as I work. I wipe everything down, stack things neatly, and start cooking.
The rhythm helps keep my nerves at bay.
Chop.
Stir.
Season.
It’s easier to focus on food than on everything else.
Charlie comes in just as I’m plating dinner.
He tries to hide it, but I see it anyway. The way his shoulders sit a little straighter, and the bounce in his step that smooths out the second he spots Dad upright on the couch.
It’s an automatic response now, how we adjust ourselves around him, careful not to set him off.
“And where the hell have you been?” Dad snaps without looking away from the screen. “Both of you just run around causing trouble these days. This was meant to be a fresh start.”
His words slur together, which is a hopeful sign that he might pass out soon.
“Sorry, Dad,” Charlie says easily.
He doesn’t explain. He knows better. Sometimes explanations give Dad something else to grab onto.
“Dinner is ready,” I say quietly as I slide a plate in front of Dad and pass another to Charlie. Once dad is busy stuffing his face, I look over to Charlie and mouth the words silently.
Did you get in?
He nods once, quick as ever and then he grins and gives me a quick wink before taking his plate and heading upstairs.
I let out a breath, silently and proudly, to myself.
I knew he would.
Charlie is too good not to make the team.
I look back at Dad, who eats like someone who hasn’t decided whether he’s grateful or angry, probably the latter. He complains about the seasoning, says the chicken is dry, yet still finishes the plate.
When he’s done, he slumps back against the couch, eyelids drooping. Within minutes, he’s snoring, mouth open, the television flickering over his face.
I clean up quietly, washing the dishes and wiping the counters. Then I go and cover him with a blanket from the back of the couch and turn off the TV.
Upstairs, Charlie’s door is cracked open. I knock softly and step inside.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, jersey folded neatly beside him, admiring it like something precious.
“Well?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
His grin breaks wide. “I got in.”
I smile back, honest and full. “That’s great news.”
“They let me join practice straight away,” he says, words tumbling over each other now that he’s started. “I mean, I wasn’t officially on the roster yet, but the coach watched me skate and said I could stay. I played a few drills and scrimmaged. Lotty, they’re good, but you know I can keep up.”
“I know,” I say.
“And I made a friend,” he adds, almost like an afterthought. “His name’s Blake. He’s the captain.”
I get a weird twinge in my chest at hearing that. It’s brief and odd, and I think it’s just that I am so proud of him.
“He gave me his old stick,” Charlie continues, eyes bright. “Said it was better than the one I had. Can you believe that?”
I can.
Somehow, I can, because Charlie is good at making friends. He’s good at fitting in. That’s why he’s our best chance at making it out of this life.
“That’s amazing,” I say, and mean it. “You deserve it.”
Charlie finally winds down, exhaustion catching up with him. He kicks his shoes off and flops back onto the bed, still smiling.
“Thanks, Lotty,” he murmurs, already half asleep.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
I pull the blanket up over his shoulders and turn off the light. Before I close the door, I whisper, “Goodnight, Charlie.”
When the house finally goes quiet, I sit on my own bed and wait. I count Dad’s snores. Watch the minutes tick by on my phone, and when I’m sure everyone is asleep, then I stand.
I pull my skates from the bottom of my box and run my fingers over the cracked leather and the frayed laces.
They are mine. The one item in this world I will never leave behind.
Well, they were Mum’s, but they’re mine now.
They’re a small piece of her I get to keep for myself.
I might get new ones one day when I can afford them, but I will always keep these. They’re special.
I slip on my jacket and shoes and creep down the stairs past Dad. With my skates in hand, I ease the door open and step back into the cold.
My vision adjusts to the dim night sky as I let a deep breath out and smile to myself.
Tonight, finally, I skate.
