Page 4 of The Cleaner

Entering the apartment, I feel a sense of dread. I hate this apartment, this is where dad moved to when he left our home to live with his mistress. Anger rises through me. God, I don’t want to be here.

"How could you bring me back here?" I demand, my voice trembling with emotion. "This is not my home. This will never be my home."

Dad's expression softens, guilt flickering in his eyes. "I know this is difficult, Lisa. But we need to stick together now more than ever. Your mother wouldn't want us falling apart like this."

"My mother is dead because of you!" I scream, the words tearing out of me like lave erupting from a volcano. "You left her for another woman, and now she's gone. How am I supposed to go on without her?” I ask, my eyes burning with tears.

Dad winces, taking a step back as if my words physically struck him. "I made mistakes, Lisa, terrible mistakes that I'll never be able to take back. But I loved your mother. I love you. Please, let me try to make things right."

I shake my head, the tears flowing freely now. "You can't fix this, Dad. You can't bring her back. You can't erase the pain you caused by cheating, by being so vile to threaten her with taking me away from her. Now she’s gone and I’ll never see her again."

He reaches out a hand tentatively, as though afraid I might reject his touch. After a moment's hesitation, I allow him to hold me. "We'll get through this together," he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'll do everything I can to help you heal, to help us heal together."

I look into his eyes and see the genuine remorse etched in them. Despite the anger and hurt raging within me, a small part of me longs to believe him. I have no other choice. He’s all that I have left.

With a heavy sigh, I nod, acknowledging his words. "I don't know if I can forgive you, Dad," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I'll try."

He pulls me into a hug, holding me close as we stand in the hallway, not having gotten any further into the apartment. "Thank you, Lisa," he murmurs, his voice trembling with emotion. "We'll take it one day at a time."

He rocks me in his arms, just as he did in the hospital. But a sudden crash startles us both. We break apart, and Dad rushes toward the noise. I’m right behind him, wondering what the hell happened.

I skid to a halt in the living room, my heart racing and my eyes wide as I stare at my dad in disbelief. “You lied,” I accuse, my words void of emotion. I should have known he was lying. Of course he wouldn’t have gotten rid of his whore. My gaze moves to the floor beside Tanya’s feet. My stomach clenches as I see a picture frame shattered to pieces. Gingerly, I move forward, reaching out for it.

“Lisa, sweetheart,” Dad says softly. “I’ll clean it up. Why don’t you go on upstairs and rest?”

I ignore his words and lift the picture frame from the floor. I already know which photo lies inside. One of me, my dad, and my ma. It was a picture taken on our last Christmas together—the very last Christmas that I spent with my ma. I spin the frame in my hands and see the picture is still there. Thankfully, it’s not destroyed, but the frame is. I clutch the picture to my chest.

God, I miss her. I miss my ma. I can’t believe she’s gone. How on earth am I supposed to carry on without her? She was my best friend.

“Why?” I ask, my eyes moving to Tanya, whose arms are wrapped around my dad. “Why would you do this?”

She shakes her head, feigning innocence. “I didn’t mean to. I was cleaning. I hadn’t expected you and your father to be home yet.”

“You’re not meant to be here,” I say. “Why are you here?”

A furrow forms between her brows. “This is my home. This is where I live. Why wouldn’t I be here?” she asks, acting and sounding as though she’s confused.

I turn my gaze to my dad, whose cheeks are red and his eyes filled with remorse. “I’m sorry, Lisa. I thought she was staying with her parents this evening.”

“What?” Tanya says, rocking back on her heels. “You wanted me out of the apartment? Why, Ben? Why would you want me gone?”

“This isn’t about you, Tanya,” Dad says, running his hand over his face. “Lisa’s just lost her mam. She’s going through a lot and we all know that the two of you don’t get along.”

Tanya folds her arms over her chest and starts to tap her foot. “I’m not leaving,” she snarls.

I roll my eyes. Of course she’s not. I don’t bother to talk; I just walk out of the room and up the stairs. I hear Dad calling after me, but I don’t look behind me. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to listen to any more of the lies. I can’t do it right now.

I close my bedroom door behind me and climb onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. My mind is spinning with a whirlwind of emotions, each one crashing into the next like waves against the shore. The image of my mother lying so still in her bed, her wrist slit hits me and nausea crawls up my throat. I could have saved her, I could have stopped it, instead, I was oblivious, lost in a book, and she bleed out. Guilt gnaws at me from the inside out, a relentless beast clawing at my heart.

I clutch the picture frame to my chest, feeling the jagged broken glass pressing against my skin. The photograph insideshows a happier time, a snapshot of a family that no longer exists. Something I’ll never get back.

My body trembles as tears cascade down my cheeks, soaking the collar of my shirt. I gasp for breath between silent sobs, feeling an overwhelming sense of loneliness and uncertainty. As I struggle to stay afloat in the depths of despair, I can't help but wonder if there is any hope of escape from this drowning feeling.

“She’s not eating,she’s not drinking, she’s not talking," Dad growls. “She needs help.”

“What will people say?” Tanya hisses. “God, Ben, it’s bad enough that we’ve got to listen to people gossip about her mother; the last thing we need is for them to talk about her daughter.”

They’re speaking as though I’m not here. I hate it. God, I hate her talking about my ma.

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