Arcadia's Gift - By Jesi Lea Ryan Page 0,35

hallways. I didn’t get that smell off of my hands all summer.

I rang the bell, and Dad buzzed me in.

“I’ll get you a key made next time I go to Menards,” Dad said as he opened the door for me.

I stepped inside and glanced around. “Still living in boxes?”

Cardboard U-Haul boxes stood stacked like skyscrapers around the apartment creating a skyline effect in the living room. The only thing that appeared to be put away was his extensive DVD collection which consisted of every John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Al Pacino movie ever made.

Dad grinned guiltily, running his hand through his thinning hair. “Guess I just haven’t had time to deal with unpacking yet.”

I shrugged off my jean jacket and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair. I recognized the oak dining set from my Grandma Nora’s house before she moved to Arizona a few years ago. When she left Iowa for a tiny condo in Scottsdale, she’d put most of the furniture from her large family-sized home into storage.

“Food will be here any minute,” Dad said. “Have a seat.”

I followed him over to the couch where I snuggled in and put my feet up. The comfortable sectional was also a relic from my Grandma’s home. It was strange to think that my dad lived here in this place. It was all just...too bare. All of the walls were off-white and the carpets beige. Hotel rooms have more personality than this place.

“So…” I said, feeling rather awkward and knowing he did, too, “maybe after we eat, we could get to work on fixing this place up.”

Dad nodded. “I was thinking, you know, if you want, we could fix up one of the bedrooms for you. It would probably have to be the small one, because Aaron may be moving in and if he does, he’ll want the bigger room. You know, living here full time.”

I nodded. “Aaron told me he wanted to move with you. Has he talked to Mom about it yet?”

Dad shook his head, “Don’t think so.” After a pause he added, “How is Mom anyway? She looked pretty rough today.” This trial separation was something they both wanted, but the tone of his voice made it clear he was still genuinely concerned about her.

I debated about what to say. If I told him the truth, that Mom was turning into a junkie hermit, would that be disloyal to her? But what if protecting her was actually a bad thing? I decided to just be honest.

“She almost never leaves her room, Dad. She drinks alcohol and takes pills and sleeps like fifteen hours a day.” I didn’t mention my suspicion about her using multiple doctors. I didn’t want to accuse her without concrete proof. I’d wait until I had a chance to take a look at those pill bottles. The prescribing doctor’s name should be on them.

Dad drew in a sharp breath, but he didn’t really look all that surprised. “Yeah, Aaron mentioned she was taking things pretty hard. Maybe —”

His thought was cut off by the tinny ringing of the doorbell. The food arrived. Dad took care of paying the delivery boy and brought the bag with him into the living room. I grabbed us two cans of soda from the fridge while he divided out the white take-out boxes between us.

I opened mine and let the steam escape from my egg rolls. Dad ripped into a package of chop sticks and began attacking his shrimp with lobster sauce. I picked up one of the crispy rolls and took a bite.

“Aw, man,” I cried as I dropped my egg roll back into the box and scrambled for the can of soda. My tongue juggled the chunk of egg roll around my mouth, trying to keep it from burning my tongue into a melted lump of flesh. The cold Pepsi washed through my mouth like heaven.

“Careful there,” Dad warned too late.

I set the food carton down on the end table. “I’ll just give that a minute.”

Something was off in the room, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. The temperature seemed normal, but cool breezes kept brushing my skin. The ceiling fan above me was off and none of the windows were open. Something else about the room was making me uneasy, worried. I pulled my sleeves down over my hands and crossed my arms in front of my middle.

“So,” Dad said, concern clouding his expression, “about your mother...I know you’re worried about