Games of the Heart

With her hands carrying the handles of a hamper filled with folded, clean clothes, Clarisse walked through the door at the top of the stairs that led from the basement to the living room. When she did, she saw No stretched out on the couch watching TV, his hand in a bag of microwave popcorn.

His eyes came to her, dropped down to the clothes she was carrying, he grinned his teasing grin and she knew he was about to say something that was going to tick her off.

“Penance or are you workin’ off the allowance you owe Dad?”

She stopped and stared at her brother.

It wasn’t either.

Something was wrong with Dad. She didn’t know what it was but whatever it was made him not right in a way Clarisse didn’t like. Since they came home from Mom’s last Sunday, he’d seemed sad or mad. She didn’t know which but it felt weirdly like a combination of both. What was weirder was that he didn’t seem mad at someone, he just seemed mad. And Clarisse thought it seemed almost like it was at himself.

Clarisse didn’t like it when her Dad was mad at her. What she did like was that when he got mad, he said it right away, explained it, doled out punishment and they moved on. This was unlike her Mom who could sit on being ticked about something for months. Clarisse figured she could do it even for years. Then she’d suddenly explode when it was least expected and it was never pretty. She didn’t only do that with Clarisse and No. When they were together, she did it to their Dad all the time.

So if their Dad was mad at one of them, he would say. And he wasn’t saying. And since Clarisse couldn’t talk to him about whatever was bothering him, she was doing the next best thing.

She was helping out.

On Monday, her Dad took a case that meant overtime. This meant for the last three days he didn’t get home before nine. Once they were in bed when he got home and she only knew he got home because he came in and kissed her temple like he always did when he got home way late.

And with Dad working so hard and being upset, someone had to look after things.

On this thought, her stare at her brother became a glare and she suggested acidly, “You could help out.”

His brows flew up. “With what?”

“It’s your turn to vacuum this week,” she reminded him.

“So, I’ll do it on Saturday.”

“You should do it now so it’ll be done when Dad gets home. And the dishwasher needs to be unloaded. I ran it when I got home from school.”

No studied her and she knew why. Usually they both had to be reminded to do their chores and sometimes they had to be reminded more than once. And also, neither of them did anything extra unless they were told. Like running the dishwasher.

“What’s your gig?” he finally asked, his eyes flicking back to the hamper before again coming to her face. “It’s not your week to do the laundry. It’s Dad’s.”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, I have. Something is up with Dad.”

His eyes grew more alert and she knew he’d noticed. Then again, they were both children of divorce and their parents’ marriage had gone from bad to really bad and stayed that way a while before it was over. They were unconsciously attuned to their parents’ moods like kids from happy homes were not. And when you learned something like that, unconscious or not, you never lost it.

She finished, “He’s workin’ late so I’m helpin’ out. You don’t wanna, fine. After I finish with the laundry, I’ll run the vacuum and I’ll unload the dishwasher.”

And with that, she turned on her foot, flounced out of the room and down the hall. She carried the clothes upstairs and put hers away. The ones that were No’s she just put on his bed. His room was a disaster, it wasn’t worth the effort and if he pulled his finger out, he could put his own clothes away.

She was walking back downstairs when she heard the vacuum go on and she grinned.

Her brother could be a pain. But they both were old enough to know what was going on when their parents got divorced. They also were old enough to know what was going on when their Dad got full custody of them. And they both wanted to live with their Dad. Mom’s apartment was small and even now when they were with her they had to share a room which sucked big time. First, because No talked under the covers to his many babes on his cell. Then, he talked in his sleep. It drove Clarisse insane.

She knew if he was in the mood, No would help out. They’d both do anything for Dad mainly because Dad proved he’d do anything for them.

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