65. Boy
Boy
Kiri
The door opens.
Dad steps inside like he still owns every breath in the house.
He’s thinner than the last time I saw him at Thanksgiving.
The broad frame is still there, the height, the shoulders that used to fill doorways and make every room feel smaller, but age has started pulling at the edges of him.
His face has hollowed. The skin beneath his eyes hangs looser.
His hands look more knotted around the joints.
He’s frailer, but not frail enough. When I see him, all I can think is that I wish it were finished already.
Dust. Gone.
Then Ma wouldn’t jump every time a car door slammed. Rithy wouldn’t turn toward an entrance before he even realized he was doing it. None of us would have to measure the air around him to work out what kind of night we were about to have.
Dad looks at me first. His eyes move over the shirt, the tattoos, the size of me like he’s checking whether anything has changed since the last time.
He gives one short nod. Then he sees Rithy and his mouth curls in the usual disgust. Rithy lifts one hand and gives him a slow wave, smirk already in place.
“Hello, Father dearest.”
Dad ignores him. His gaze moves to the counter. Only crumbs are left behind, miniscule. Nothing anyone normal would even notice but his face hardens anyway.
“What’s all this mess?”
Ma starts moving before he finishes the sentence.
“I will wipe down now.”
“You should’ve done it already.”
“I was—”
“Just shut up and hand me a beer already.”
She turns and opens the fridge. A bottle cap snaps and there's a beer in his hand before I can force my jaw loose. He takes it without thanking her and heads toward the living room. The second he sees the albums open across the coffee table, he stops.
“What the fuck is all this old bullshit doing out?”
Ma flinches.
“I’m coming to get.”
He shoves the top album aside. It hits the floor hard enough that several loose photographs slide free beneath the table.
My hand curls at my side. Dad drops into the recliner and plants his beer on the coffee table exactly where the album had been.
No coaster or concern for the ring it’ll leave on the wood Ma has spent years polishing around him.
One rule for us. Another for him.
Always.
The television comes on loud enough to shake the quiet out of the room. Ma hurries in and kneels to gather the pictures. I move before she can reach under the table.
“I’ve got it.”
“I'll do.”
“Ma.”
She looks at me. I take the photographs from her hand and stack them carefully while Rithy closes the albums and puts them away.
Dad stares at the screen as if we don’t exist. It takes him another full minute to notice Natalia.
His eyes drag over her where she stands near the kitchen entrance.
Her dress. Her hair. Her hand wrapped tightly around the back of a chair. Then he looks at me.
One scoff, a small shake of his head. Like she’s another stupid thing I’ve wasted my time on.
My body reacts before my mind catches up.
Shoulders tighten. Teeth lock. Every instinct I have presses forward.
Natalia notices, she comes closer and slides her hand into mine and guides me back into the kitchen.
Dad turns the television up.
We try to keep talking anyway. Ma asks Rithy about the album.
The volume climbs.
Natalia tells Ma the cake was one of the best things she’s ever tasted.
Another click.
Rithy leans toward her.
“He does know headphones exist, right? Useful for deaf fucking decaying assholes.”
I kick his ankle beneath the table. He grins. Dad doesn’t look back, but the volume rises again. Soon the whole room is filled with canned laughter and shouting from whatever show he’s watching. Every attempt at conversation becomes something we have to force through the noise.
Ma keeps smiling. That’s the part that hurts the most. She acts like none of this is happening, like the television isn’t punishment. Like the beer on the table and the pictures on the floor didn’t mean anything. Pretending if she keeps the day pleasant enough, he might let her have it.
Eventually, I can’t stand it anymore. I kiss the top of Ma’s head. Then Natalia’s.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I tell them. “We’ll head out after.”
Natalia looks up at me.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
The lie comes easily. She squeezes my hand once before letting go. I walk down the hall and shut myself inside the bathroom. I stand over the sink gripping the edge hard enough that the counter bites into my palms.
Breathe.
That’s all I have to do. Breathe. Piss. Wash my hands. Get Natalia out of here before he gives me a reason to forget every promise I made myself when I was sixteen. Don't go to jail over that asshole.
Through the wall, I can hear her talking to Ma.
I can’t make out the words, but Ma laughs.
Natalia says something else, and Ma laughs harder.
It builds fast, the kind where you try to stop and that only makes it worse.
One laugh catches on the next until both of them are breathless. At first, I smile.
Then the recliner snaps shut. The sound rings through the house, then heavy footsteps hit the floor. Dad’s voice explodes from the kitchen.
“I'm trying to watch fucking television.”
The laughter dies. I’m already moving.
“So goddamn rude.”
The bathroom door slams against the wall behind me. Then I hear it.
“Dumb blonde bitch.”
Everything inside me goes silent as I round the corner.
Dad is towering over Ma while Natalia stands between them.
Her chin is lifted and shoulders squared.
Every inch of her vibrates with fury as she looks up at a man nearly twice her size.
Age may have weakened him, but he still knows how to fill a room like a threat.
Ma is behind her, one hand pressed to her chest. Rithy has a hand wrapped around Natalia’s upper arm, trying to pull her back without making it obvious.
“Nat,” he says quietly. “Don’t.”
She doesn’t move. Dad points at her.
“How dare you come into my house and make noise while I’m trying to relax? Were you raised in a barn?”
Natalia’s eyes narrow.
“I was talking to Ma.”
“You were screeching like a damn harpy.”
“She was laughing you piece of shit,” Rithy says as he tightens his grip on her arm and tugs. "Come on, Nat."
“This has nothing to do with you. You stay out of it. Maybe if I’d beaten you harder as a boy, you would’ve grown up to be a man instead of fruitier than a goddamn Christmas cake.”
Rithy shakes his head.
“Wow. Christmas cake. You really know how to hit where it hurts.” His gaze drags over Dad. “If anything in this house is dry as dust and crumbling apart, it’s you.”
Dad takes one step closer. Natalia holds her ground, so Rithy releases her arm and moves in front of her, putting his body between them. My brain finally catches up to what I’m seeing. The angle of his body over them and every version of this room layered over the one in front of me.
Ma against a counter. Rithy on the floor. Me, too small to intervene so many times. I wasn't strong enough then, but I am now.
I cross the kitchen in three strides. Dad barely has time to turn before I catch him by the chest and drive him backward.
His back hits the wall hard enough to rattle the framed pictures.
The beer bottle slips from his hand and shatters across the floor.
I pin him there with my forearm across his chest.
His eyes lock on mine. They’re older now. Smaller and sunken in, but the hatred in them is exactly the same.
“You don't touch them,” I tell him.
Dad’s face twists, then he laughs.
“Who do you think you are, boy?”
I shove him harder into the wall. I can feel the frailness of his bones grind against my forearm. It wouldn't take much, not anymore.
“Say one more fucking word and I'll shut you up permanently.”