Member-only story
Doing Time
Just Not Doing it Right
“Leave him alone, Chrissy.”
Chrissy thought it over. Daddy was slumped over and snoring in his recliner again this morning. Mom never acted like it was odd. Although the one time Chrissy started to talk about it in front of Granny Graham, Dad’s tipsy old mother, Mom grabbed her arm and pulled her into the pantry for a talking-to.
“Why doesn’t Daddy sleep upstairs with you, Mom?” Chrissy knew the answer but with the unerring aim of any canny eight-year-old liked watching Mom squirm. Or at least thought she did until this morning when that one got her one of Mom’s icy glares.
“Ask him yourself, you’re so smart. Now get your lunch or you’ll miss the bus again.”
Clive came to in the afternoon, head pounding and mouth grainy. He could tell the house was empty. Good. God willing, by the time Adele was back from whatever good works she was doing these days, he’d be showered and ready for her. As ready as possible, anyway.
He’d made it out of the chair and was halfway up the stairs when he heard the door. So much for God.
“Your daughter wanted to know why her drunken father was slumped over in the recliner this morning. Care to explain things to her or shall I?” Adele stood at the foot of the stairs, immaculate and bloodless. Clive nodded…
