Before-After

The night before Sadie’s father died, they ate pasta with garlic bread. She and her mother drank milk. Her father had a beer.

“Careful, Daddy. You’re starting to get a beer belly.”

He frowned around the lip of the bottle. “Hey, now. Can’t a man enjoy a beer every once in a while? Back me up here, Laura.”

“Your father works extra hours to put food on the table for us, Sadie. I think he’s entitled to a beer every once in a while.”

“Ha! I win,” he tilts back the bottle with a smug look.

“Whose side are you on, mom?”

“I’m on your side, sweetie. I’m just trying to be reasonable.”

Sadie crossed her arms. “I don’t know how you’d survive without me.”

“I’m glad I have you to keep my  heart beating strong, Sadie-bear!” He laughed with lungs like bellows. Sadie loved that laugh. She blushed and twirled her pasta around her fork.

The night after Sadie’s father died, she had spent the entire day locked up in her room. Her mom came up to feed her. She wasn’t hungry. She came up to give her water. She wasn’t thirsty either. Did she want to talk? No. She merely stared at the blinds, watching the sunlight through the slats die.

Finally, she got up and switched on her computer. In her private blog, she wrote: “We killed him. If we weren’t around, Dad wouldn’t have had to be out there working. He’d still be here.”