The sound of my father’s breathing was louder than the clanking of the steam radiators in the basement hallway. It had a dry, whistling rattle that did not belong in a man of fifty-four.
vHe pushed the wide dust mop over the red linoleum tiles, leaving a clean path through the gray winter grit. I sat on my heavy backpack near the boiler room door, watching the silver signet ring spin around my right pinky finger.
“I have swept these same tiles for twelve years, Nicole, and they still have plenty of shine left,” he said, his voice a low, raspy whisper.
He stopped and leaned his chest heavily against the top of the wooden broom handle. His face was the color of skim milk.
“Let me carry the bag, Dad,” I said,
reaching for the nylon straps.
“No,” he said, coughing once into his blue handkerchief. “A senior preparing for college shouldn’t be hauling coal sacks.”
He swung the heavy bag onto his shoulder with a sharp grunt that made him wince.
vWe walked into his custodian closet, where the sharp smell of green floor wax and pine cleaner always hung thick in the continue reading …
air. He set my bag on a metal folding chair and reached into his vest pocket.
He pulled out his round silver pocket watch, but his hand came up empty of the heavy metal link that usually draped across his front.
“Well, look at that,” he murmured, turning the smooth metal casing over in his palm. “The chain is gone.”
“Where is it?” I asked.
vHe let out a continue reading …
dry chuckle, though his chest seemed to labor under the effort. “Must have slipped off while I was clearing the brush behind the athletic fields on Tuesday.”He placed the chainless watch on his small wooden desk next to a jar of rusted screws.
At five o’clock, the bell in the main hallway rang three times, signaling the final lockup. Principal Bradley continue reading …
stood at the door of his office, adjusting his wire-rimmed spectacles as we walked toward the exit.
“Nicole,” Mr. Bradley said, his voice slow and measured. “Step in for a moment, please.”
My father kept walking down the corridor, his boots dragging slightly on the concrete.
“Is Albert doing alright at home?” Mr. Bradley asked, looking continue reading …
down at a stack of maintenance schedules on his desk. “I can assign the gym floor to the night crew if he needs a lighter load.”
My fingers tightened around my signet ring, spinning it fast against my knuckle.
“He is perfectly strong,” I said. “He doesn’t need anyone taking his shifts.”
Mr. Bradley did not look up from his papers. “We want him here for continue reading …
a long time, Nicole.”
“He will be here,” I said, turning toward the door.
The walk home was six blocks through the damp Indiana dusk. My father walked half a step behind me, his breath coming in shallow, ragged puffs that rose like steam in the cold air.
The kitchen table at home was small enough that our knees touched when we sat down. A bowl of simple continue reading …
potato soup sat between us, the steam rising in thin gray curls under the yellow light of the ceiling fixture.
My father reached for the salt shaker, and his fingers trembled so hard the glass clicked against the ceramic pepper pot.
I watched the soup spill over the edge of his spoon, back into the bowl. I did not look at his face.
“The school board approved continue reading …
the weekend overtime shifts,” he said, his Midwestern drawl sounding thicker in the quiet room.
“You don’t need to work Saturdays,” I said. “We have enough.”
“We have what we need for today,” he said, setting the spoon down with a small clink. “But tomorrow costs more.”
“Then sell the watch,” I said, pointing to the empty pocket of his denim vest. “You continue reading …
don’t even have the chain anymore.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bare silver watch, placing it gently on the oilcloth table.
“The chain is gone, Nicole,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “But the watch still keeps the hour.”
Nicole watches her father carefully place his chainless pocket watch into his worn denim continue reading …
vest pocket.
The morning after, I walked into the school foyer.
The yellow linoleum in the cafeteria entryway always had a dull sheen on Tuesday mornings, the fresh coat of pine-scented wax still tacky under my sneakers. I kept my chin tucked into the collar of my corduroy jacket, hoping to slip past the double doors unnoticed.
Gary, a senior whose father continue reading …
owned the three largest auto dealerships in the county, stood by the water fountain, jangling his heavy brass key fob. He stopped the metal clicking when I reached the threshold.
“Hey, Nicole,” Gary said, his voice carrying easily over the chatter of the morning crowd. “Did your dad spill the bucket on you this morning, or is that just your new perfume?continue reading …
Two boys near him laughed, their voices echoing off the concrete walls. I gripped my
vThe bell above the door of Clara’s shop chimed three times when I pushed it open that afternoon. The small
smelled of pressed steam and wool, a comforting heat that usually took the edge off the Indiana wind. Clara, my aunt, stood behind the counter with three silver safety pins pinned to her collar, her fingers smoothing a length of blue velvet.
“There is a plate of molasses cookies in the back, Nicole,” Clara said, not looking up from her shears. “Eat continue reading …
thread.”
I leaned against the counter. “We cannot afford brocade.”
“He wanted to know what three yards of it would run, plus the pattern fee,” Clara said, her voice dropping as she adjusted a pin on her collar. “He said a girl only has one senior spring dance, and she ought to look like she belongs there.”
The spring formal was still continue reading …
yellow cloth.
“The prescription for Albert is ready, Nicole,” David said, reaching under the counter before I could speak. “Mr. Miller filled it about an hour ago.”
He slid a thick brown paper bag across the counter, the paper stiff and heavy.
“That will be sixty-eight dollars and forty cents,” David said, his pencil poised over the ledger.
yellow cloth.
He slid a thick brown paper bag across the counter, the paper stiff and heavy.
“That will be sixty-eight dollars and forty cents,” David said, his pencil poised over the ledger.
I stared at continue reading …
I stared at continue reading …
the black numbers on the small white receipt stapled to the top. My father’s weekly groceries rarely came to forty dollars, and his usual cough syrup was six.
“Is there a mistake?” I asked.
“That is the price for the new ones,” David said, looking down at his ledger. “The doctor wrote the order yesterday morning.”
I pulled three crumpled continue reading …
twenty-dollar bills and a ten from my pocket, my fingers cold against the paper.
twenty-dollar bills and a ten from my pocket, my fingers cold against the paper.
The wind from the north shook the loose kitchen window pane while the tea kettle began its low whistle. My father sat in the wooden chair by the radiator, his shoulders curved forward as he held a blue cotton handkerchief to his mouth. A dry, scraping cough shook his chest,
The wind from the north shook the loose kitchen window pane while the tea kettle began its low whistle. My father sat in the wooden chair by the radiator, his shoulders curved forward as he held a blue cotton handkerchief to his mouth. A dry, scraping cough shook his chest
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