Loving Sunday

When Sunday reached the house, she wiped her feet on the welcome mat and stepped inside, quietly shutting the door. She dropped her bag at the foot of the stairs and walked down the hall, toured the kitchen.

Kate’s voice was irritated and annoyed, like she really didn’t want to be having the discussion she was having. Sunday paused at the corner and listened. It was quiet for a moment while the person on the other end of the phone call spoke.

“I don’t give a hell what you want, there is no way I’m letting you back into her life,” Kate screamed, chest heaving and face red. “If Sarah didn’t want you in her life, then I sure as hell don’t.”

The person on the other line began to talk again. Sunday held her breath and bit her lip. It was her father on the other line, she knew it. Why is he calling? Sunday thought, tears springing to her eyes. Why after all these years would he want anything to do with me?

Kate started screaming again.

“Don’t even think about trying to get layers involved! Sunday will be eighteen in a month, so it doesn’t even matter.” Kate looked up and saw Sunday standing in the doorway, tears running down her cheeks. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Give it up Christopher; you’re never going to see her again.” She pressed the end button.

Kate and Sunday stared at each other for a moment, Kate trying to find the words to say to her niece. But Sunday didn’t need to hear anything; she knew all that she needed.

“It’s okay Kate, he’s a fucking bastard and it doesn’t even matter that he called,” said Sunday, her voice cracking a little. She inhaled and wiped the tears away. “Let’s just forget that he called, ‘kay?”

Kate nodded. “Of course.”

***

The sky had been dark for awhile, but Sunday couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her father driving away in his black SUV. It was a nightmare and she just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry her eyes out.

Sunday turned over on her pillow and decided there was something she needed to do.

She threw the covers back and slid out of the bed, tiptoeing across the room to her wardrobe. It was wide open, spilling out dresses, skirts and a few other things. Sunday pushed all of this aside and found a shoe box under all the mess.

Holding the box close to her chest, Sunday tiptoed to the window and sat on the cushioned window seat. She set the box on her lap and hesitated only a moment before gently tugging off the lid. Sunday was hit with a wave of memories.

She smiled and reached into the box, pulling out a small stack of photos and a plastic rose. Her mother gave it to her for her sixteenth birthday. She smiled and then sighed. She put it back in the box and turned to the photos instead.

The top one was when she was nine and it was thanksgiving. The picture showed her and her mother dancing in the kitchen, covered in flour. Sunday laughed quietly and continued through the pictures. Most of them where of her and her mother, but every once and awhile, her father would appear.

The very last picture was one that disgusted Sunday. It was her tenth birthday morning and she was holding a package, smiling from her fathers lap. They both stared up at the camera with the same pair of brown eyes. The last photo of them together.

Sunday wanted to get rid of this picture, she never wanted to see it again. She looked into the box and, as if by fate, a cheep lighter from the first time she smoked was sitting there. Before her mind had caught up, her hand was grabbing the lighter and she was burning the picture.

Watching it wither away, Sunday was glad. She felt like a heavy weight was being lifted from her shoulders, a weight that her father had put on her.

“Goodbye daddy dearest,” she whispered as his face caught the flame and started withering away. Sunday sincerely hoped that would be the last time she ever saw the man.