I have to check the oubliette.
Clearing my throat, I begin to drum my fingers along the tabletop. It’s a small enough distraction that he peers at me over the top of his newspaper, before he reaches over and puts his hand on mine to stop me.
“What’s up?” he asks curiously.
“I’m more worried about what’s down,” I reply tiredly.
“What?”
A rare look of confusion crosses his face, and I sigh as I slide my hand away from underneath his. I glance out the window behind him, and don what I hope is a meaningful look, but if he understands what I want, he’s choosing to ignore it.
“Well?” he asks, shaking out his newspaper. He licks his thumb as he flips the page and keeps his eyes trained on me expectantly.
“I’m hungry,” I admit quietly. It’s not exactly a lie, but it’s not the entire truth. I am hungry; however, I’m more concerned with taking my scraps to Vaughn.
If he’s still alive.
“You can eat,” he says with a nod as he turns his eyes back to his article. I almost faint with relief, because he’s never given us food so easily. I think it has to be because he’s already attempting to make me pregnant, so it makes him slightly kinder.
I know better, though. I know that trusting a man like Pater, no matter what the circumstance, is a more dangerous game than anything he could possibly dream up.
“Thank you,” I reply softly.
I get to my feet and walk toward the counter where there is still one steak left on a greasy plate. There’s a spoonful of home fries and one strip of bacon, too. I quickly pile it onto a clean plate and, as I’m placing it into the microwave for a quick reheat, I hear Pater slide his chair back.
In a matter of a few steps, he’s standing next to me, washing his hands in the sink, and I can feel myself start to tremble again. I know he feels my fear when he gives me a sidelong glance and smirks. He doesn’t say anything, though. He dries his hands off on a dishtowel, pulls the drawer open next to me, and fishes out a fork. Once the microwave dings, he opens the door, pulls out the plate and takes it back to the table.
I’m two seconds away from throwing the mother of all tantrums, when I see that he’s set the fork and plate where I had been sitting. As he makes his way back to his seat and newspaper, he clears his throat and continues to read.
“Make sure you eat every last thing on that plate, baby girl. I know you kids had some kind of system with whatever you swore you just couldn’t eat, but don’t forget: you’re the only kid now.”
He’s lying.
I know he’s lying because I can still feel something in my heart that’s only lived there since I was put in charge of Eloy and Vaughn.
“Hey, don’t you have a birthday coming up soon?” he asks conversationally.
“Yes.”
“Any idea what you’ll be wanting?”
“I haven’t thought about it,” I say, finally taking a bite of the steak. My stomach growls loudly and Pater chuckles, but makes no further mention of the disruptive sound.
“Well, how long do we have until it’s time to celebrate, Joce?” he asks, setting his paper down and smoothing out the pages with his hands.
With another sigh and shrug, I take a second bite of the steak. It doesn’t matter how long I feel we have, or how long it will actually be until my birthday. The only thing that matters is when Pater will be ready to dedicate a moment to the day. It doesn’t hold any special meaning to me anymore, my birthday. If anything, it’s a day I’ve come to loathe. I wasn’t born into normal surroundings.
I was born into a world where evil existed long before I was conceived, and where innocence goes to die.
“How old are you these days, Jocelyn?” Pater asks, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. He glances up at me when I don’t answer him right away, and I’m terrified he’s caught me scraping food off the plate into my lap.
“I’ll be twenty, I think,” I reply, as I grab the fork and slice another piece off the steak. I’m not sure what it was exactly that I managed to scoop off the plate, but I hadn’t expected him to ask me something so personal. It’s not like Pater to give a shit, and he should know the answer to that question anyway.
“Huh,” he says indifferently. “That’s about the same age your mother was when she had Vaughn. Eh, I might have to sit through more boys again.”
“Pater?” I ask carefully. Now he’s mentioned Mama, I have a few questions of my own. “May I ask you something?”
He looks at me for a moment as he considers my request. He sucks his teeth before turning his eyes back down to the newspaper.