Page 31 of Spiteful Heart

Sylvester exhaled loudly, his fingers curling into a fist, and then he knocked. He knocked twice before he stepped back and waited. We stood side by side, waiting for our father to answer that door and, with any luck, also be the savior to all of our problems.

But the door didn’t open.

My brother and I glanced at each other again, and without saying anything, Sylvester went to knock a second time. When he pulled back and folded his arms over his chest, a frown forming on his face, I growled out a sound and hit the door myself.

The idiot was knocking like he was afraid to touch the door. If you wanted someone inside to hear, you really had to pound your fist on it like you were the big, bad wolf about to blow the whole thing down. The door rattled on its hinges.

As I pulled back, he muttered, “That seemed unnecessarily violent.”

I looked at him. “Unnecessarily violent is my—” I was about to saymiddle name, but right then, I heard the lock inside the house unlatching. Within seconds, the door swung open to reveal a face I half-expected not to see.

A face much like mine stared back at me, brown eyes so dark they bordered on black. Black hair the shade of a night sky with no moon sat on his head, a bit longer than it should’ve been—and a little greasier. His jaw was covered in thick stubble… stubble so thick I might hazard to describe it as a beard.

But, no, my father would never have abeard.

But here he was, scruffy, dirty, and very much like a fucking lumberjack. I guess he’d let himself go since he’d given everything up and moved here permanently.

And he was wearing plaid. Fuckingplaid.

One of his hands kept hold of the door, and I could see it squeezing the wood harder as he gazed upon Sylvester and me. His jaw ground—though it was hard to tell with the new beard. I can see he didn’t look too thrilled to see us. Well, ditto pops. Fucking ditto.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Sylvester started, “and we—” The door shut right then, practically slammed in both our faces, causing him to abruptly stop.

Sylvester and I shared a look. He was about to rap his knuckles on the door again, but within another second, our father came out. He’d thrown a coat on and had keys in his hand. He said nothing as he pushed past both Sylvester and me, heading down the steps.

“Uh, should we follow?” I asked.

“Yeah” was all my brother said before darting after him, and I trailed after him.

Our father went right for his car, getting in and starting her up. He said not a single word to us, nor did he throw us a glance as he backed up, maneuvering his car around Sylvester’s to get out of the garage. Once he was out, he hit something on his vizor and the garage door shut, and then… then he just drove off like we weren’t even there.

The prick.

Sylvester and I looked at each other. We hustled to the car, got in, and we were on his tail. Didn’t know where the asshole thought he was going, but he wasn’t going to get away from us that easily. We’d found him, and we’d driven all this way—and now that I’d seen him, my fury at him had only grown.

Who the fuck did he think he was, ignoring us like that? Fucking driving off like we didn’t deserve his attention? Fuck, I really did hate him right now, and I didn’t know if those emotions would ever fade.

“Where is he going?” I asked, watching as he made a left out of the driveway. He wasn’t booking it, so I didn’t think he was trying to lose us—and if he was, then he’d definitely lost some of his touch, because he was kind of driving like a grandpa right now. Slow and steady, even using his turning signals.

I know. What. The. Fuck.

“I don’t know,” Sylvester said, “but we’re going to find out. We came all this way. The least he could do is talk to us.”

Every turn our father made, Sylvester followed. We tailed his car all the way back into town… where he suddenly pulled off the road and into a parking spot right in front of the local grocery store. It was such a small place, its parking was out front, right off the road. Maybe ten cars could park there at a time. Disgusting.

Sylvester pulled into an open spot, and we watched as our father got out of the car and headed inside the store. The place had a wall of large windows in the front, allowing you to see inside. Most of the shops on the main street in town were built in the same way. There looked to be one register in the front of the store, near the windows, and the man standing behind it waved to our father when he walked in.

I glared. Was our fathergrocery shopping?

“What the hell is he doing?” I asked, incredulous. I was more than annoyed by now, more than furious. This guy… ugh, this fucking guy. “Should we go in?” I undid my seatbelt, ready to hop out at a moment’s notice.

“No.” My brother held up a hand, stopping me from storming the stupid grocery store. “Let’s wait until he comes out.” He glanced at me and shrugged.

At this point, I didn’t want to argue with him, so I tried to simmer down.

Our father walked out a few minutes later, carrying a bag full of things from the store. He didn’t go back to his car straight away; he walked next door to the grocery store, to the butcher’s place, where he then must’ve placed an order for some meat, because the next thing I knew, he was coming out of the butcher’s place with an extra plastic bag. He finally got in the car and drove off.

As Sylvester followed him, I muttered under my breath, “This is so fucking weird.” Our father was going about his day, acting like we weren’t there. Doing his errands, while we were just his shadows.

---