The food is cold. The room quiet, except for the buzz of the Television.

I sit waiting, waiting for the phone to ring: for it to be late enough to call it a night.

I think about my sister. I tap my fingers. Is her house full of sound? The last time I saw her, the leaves were changing, the air crisp, and her words hung in the air.

Driving home, I almost hit a deer.

I swerved, almost losing control as I skid off the road.

Reaching for a cigarette, I put it between my lips as I fumble with the lighter.

No point telling my wife about it.

My Aunt, who lives up in Thunder Bay, showed up at our house un-expectantly. Bags by her feet, another slung over her back.

She didn’t look nervous. I don’t think anyone knew she was coming.

I stood by the table with the lamp. I nearly knocked it over while I watched my mother usher her in.

My Aunt smiles as if it hasn’t been seven years since we have seen her.

I try to lock eyes with my mother, but she won’t look at me.

And then there is another knock at the door.

There is so much force in such a tiny body.

I watch as the child tries to drop to the ground as her caregiver held on to her hand.

Another child, maybe 9 years old, thinks it is funny. You can tell by how her face twists up while she’s trying not to laugh. She holds on to the chair for support.

I think she might have started it all.

Children are loud.

The little hand holding mine belonged to my sister’s child. A child who is trying to take her first steps.

My sister is sick in bed. Her fever is high.

She had been sick a lot, ever since before her pregnancy. So I watch the child.

She adores that baby. Tiring herself out, attempting to care for her. She will end up sick again.

My sister has been going on that she thought the baby would be taking her first steps soon.

I sigh and gently push the baby to the ground.

Maybe things would be better tomorrow.

Once you hit 14, everyone in the Neighborhood wants you to watch their kids.

It was a Saturday night. My eyes kept locking onto the clock, and it felt like time was barely moving.

There was a party going on a few streets over, and I was hoping that they would be home in time that I could make it there.

I look at the bag on the chair, inside a different dress and some stolen liquor.

10:08

This town isn’t large, so everyone I know was going to be there.

I bite my lower lip, grab the liquor out of my bag and open it. Maybe a little buzz will help speed up the clock.

10:11

I sit on the floor.

The TV is on, but I’m more interested in the book at my feet.

My mother is in the kitchen. I hope that she is cooking.

I flip to the next page while I rub my feet together.

I don’t want to do my homework.

I lean back and look at the ceiling. I reach my hands forward, pushing them in-between the cushions of the couch.

I feel the things lost under the couch.

I guess at what they are.

I stand in the grass waiting.

I want to take my shoes off, but I know that I’ll be scolded.

I look up. At the leaves on the tree. How much longer do I have to wait?

I can hear my mum trying to round up the boys. There is no point trying to get them ready until moments before we have to leave.

They won’t stay clean.

I don’t know much about today. Only that we have to look nice and family will be there.

I push a stick with the tip of my shoe.

I watch a robin up in the tree. I think it is waiting for me to leave.

I sit alone. Holding a cup to my lips.

I blink a few times. I scratch my head and dig through my bag.

My memory is not very good anymore. I have to write it down.

I take a sip and open the book. This is promising.

A pen in one hand, I scrunch my nose and sway. I need to find the right words.

I push the stolen book onto the floor. I cover half my face with my hand.

I don’t know how much time passes.

I get up to leave, and I kick the book as I pass. I stand in the grass waiting.

I want to take my shoes off, but I know that I’ll be scolded.

I look up. At the leaves on the tree. How much longer do I have to wait?

I can hear my mum trying to round up the boys. There is no point trying to get them ready until moments before we have to leave.

They won’t stay clean.

I don’t know much about today. Only that we have to look nice and family will be there.

I push a stick with the tip of my shoe.

I watch a robin up in the tree. I think it is waiting for me to leave.

I pick at the wart on my foot.

They always come back.

He stares at me. I want him to think I didn’t notice.

It’s a display of will. I can wait a long time.

I can’t meet his eyes.

I continue digging at the thick skin.

The table is set.

I am alone in the room because I have not called everyone for dinner.

It is almost over, then I can relax.

It is hard work. Getting food ready for so many people.

I shift the dishes around. It's apart of my nightly routine.

Cook the food.

Set the table.

Stare.

Move things around.

Dish out the food.

The pressure behind my eyes pulse.

Everyone will come. I will smile. My oldest will say the prayer.

Everyone will eat.

And I will watch.

I can never sleep. The window is drafty.

It lets all the crisp air into the room.

I have tried to move my bed away from the window. The room is too small.

I have collected what extra fabric I can find.

It does not help.

If you hold your hand up to the window, cold air hits it.

I can’t feel the heat from the vent.

I hold my knees to my chest, my body shutters.

I pull the cloth around me over my head.

He was older than me.

After he kissed me, I stole makeup from my mother.

It was my first kiss. He pulled me to him. His face scratched mine.

He tasted of smoke. The taste lingered. It made me think of my dad smoking while he read the paper.

He grinned at me. He thought it was funny.

I don’t know if my lips really tingled or if I just remembered it that way.

He tells me when to meet him.

Sometimes he is late. Sometimes he never comes.

Sometimes we barely talk. Other times he tells me a little about his life. Every time there are more kisses.

We never go anywhere.

He is really handsome.

My eyes burned. I blink once. I found a note. I scrunch it up and push it deep into my pocket.

I walk away.

I think about how things would be if I had never found it.

If nobody ever found it.

It feels like I have lost my stomach. It fell away as I walked, leaving just a hole.

I just keep walking.