A Daughter’s Love

My name is Amber Morrison and I am a senior creative writing major at UTEP from Arlington, Texas.

This piece is about a 17-year-old named Riley, who struggles through the daily routine of her father’s drinking addiction to remind him he​’s not alone.

A Daughter’s Love 

Riley blinked against the sun, ducking her head under the wooden awning of the apartment building and into the shade. She separated her keys to unlock the front door when she reached the top of the stairs. The lock clicked, and she stepped into the apartment, dropping her backpack on the floor beside a small pile of shoes. The kitchen and living room reeked of Hamburger Helper, cheap whiskey, and cigarettes, even though she’d asked him not to smoke inside. Riley took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, her eyes focusing on the trail he left behind. She took the bag out of the trash can and tossed out the red plastic cups filled with butts. She found two cups still containing alcohol and poured the warm Kentucky Deluxe down the sink. She emptied the overflowing ash tray and tied the garbage bag.

Riley left, closing the front door without locking it. She tucked her dark hair behind her ears and hurried down the stairs. Sister Lee, an elderly woman who attended the Calvary Temple every Wednesday and twice on Sunday, walked out of her apartment 204 and nodded to Riley.

“Good afternoon,” Sister Lee said, searching her purse.

“Hello, Sister Lee. Did you lose your keys?” Riley asked, moving the trash bag behind her leg when she stopped on the last step.

“No, today it seems to be my phone. Perhaps it’s back inside,” Sister Lee muttered as she returned to her apartment. Riley turned away and fast-walked along the curb. She opened the side of the dumpster and threw the trash inside, holding her breath against the smell of rotten food mixed with vomit. Riley jogged to get back to the shade of her building when Sister Lee walked past, hobbling in her blue heels and adjusting her feathery, blue and yellow hat.

“Found it!” Sister Lee said, waving her phone in the air.

Riley hunched as she walked by to avoid poking her eye out on the cluster of yellow feathers sticking out from the side of the hat. “That’s great, sister. Are you off to the church?”

“Oh, yes dear, I’m meeting with Pastor Todd to do some praying for baby Lillian tonight.” Sister Lee stopped hobbling to grab hold of the stairwell railing. Riley stopped halfway up the stairs, waiting to see if she needed assistance. Sister Lee looked up at her. “I’ll pray for you, dear,” she said, and then her smile lessened, “and your father, too.”

Riley swallowed, breaking her eye contact and staring at the railing before offering a smile. “Thank you, sister.” She looked up, her smile widening and showing her dimples. “Drive safe.”

Sister Lee’s expression brightened, deepening the crow’s feet around her eyes. “Always do!” she said, digging through her knock-off Louis Vuitton. Riley smiled and shook her head, climbing the scuffed steps two at a time and reentering her apartment.

Opening the kitchen and living room windows, Riley lit a cinnamon candle and set it on the tan linoleum counter. She huffed as she put her hands on her hips, surveying the common area. She grabbed a dry washcloth and moved to straighten the photos on the bookshelf just across from her father’s favorite recliner, lifting up the ones of her mom and dusting them off. Riley picked up the family portrait taken when she was seven and her older sister Robyn was ten. Robyn smiled perfectly, her hands resting in front of her body, while Riley’s forced smile looked like a cross between fright and disgust. She and her sister wore matching outfits in pink and white dresses while their mother held them both, her dyed blonde hair woven in curls that draped her face. Their father stood behind them, keeping them all together with his shoulders rigid and his hands on the shoulder of each daughter. He wore a suit with a pink tie to match his little girls. Riley shook her head, remembering how tense her father’s hand felt on her shoulder as he struggled to find the pose the photographer so desperately wanted for their portrait. In the end, her father gritted his teeth and barked that the next picture would be the one they chose so he could go home and get out of the tight suit. Fortunately for him, the next picture was the one her mother loved.

Riley dusted the portrait and set down the frame next to a signed Mike Buck football from the Saints’ win against the Browns in the only NFL game her father had ever attended. She turned the glass box to face straight into the living room, careful to avoid the knick in the glass from when her mother threw it at the table. Riley picked up her backpack on her way to her bedroom, closed the door behind her and turned on the lights. Various shades of blue decorated the small room, from the custom, floral paint design on the walls she and Robyn did the year before Robyn left for college to the blue, white, and black geometric-styled comforter thrown atop her bed. Riley took out her economics textbook when the front door opened.

She flung open her door and stood in the hallway as her father walked inside, beaming as he kicked off his shoes. Sweat soaked his tattered Sears uniform, and she reminded herself to buy more oxy pods for the laundry.

“Hey!” she said, walking into the light.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, giving her a one armed hug as he closed the door and walked into the kitchen. He pulled a glass from the counter and opened the freezer.

Riley took a seat on one of the chairs at the table. “How was work?”

“Sucked. I had to fix close to twenty machines today.” He poured a glass of Kentucky Deluxe and tucked the bottle in between the frozen pizzas and meals in the freezer.

“I take it Gary had to fix the same numbers?” Riley asked.

Her father chuckled. “Yeah right, I think he fixed seven.” He walked over to the table to sit down across from her. “How was school?”

“It was good. I got an 83 on my English test.”

“Good job! Did you put in on the fridge?”

“Dad, I’m seventeen. I don’t put stuff on the fridge.”

He raised his eyebrows and pointed to the hallway. “Go to your room and get the test. I’m putting it up right now. Go, go.”

Riley smiled as she hurried to her room. She flipped through her binders and its dividers, leafing through papers until she found the test, and took it back to the kitchen. She held the exam out to him on her palms. Her father took it from her and stuck magnets on the top and the bottom. “That looks nice, don’t you think?” he asked, standing back.

“It looks great, Dad. I’m going to see if I can finish reading this chapter for class by tonight,” she said, walking backwards out of the kitchen.

“Don’t study too hard!” he said. Riley giggled in response, turned away and walked into her room, closing the door but not shutting it. She took a breath before sitting down and reading the first page of the econ assignment.

The light from her window cast a purple and pink hue in the room as the sun set, the opened blinds shadowing on the wall behind her bed. Just as Riley finished reading she turned on her lamp. She remained seated, her eyes shifting to the picture of her and her dad sitting on the nightstand. She pulled her hands together and wished she knew how to pray. Her hot breath hovered in the air and floated through the gaps between her fingers and onto her palms. She wiped her hands on her pants and closed the textbook, picking it up and packing it in her backpack. She slipped into sweatpants and one of her mother’s old shirts and shuffled into the living room.

Her father sat in the recliner. The light from the kitchen shined into the living room, but only enough to see his silhouette and the outline of his disheveled hair. The rest of his body disappeared with the dark. No trace of smoke reached her nose, but she noted the empty liquor bottle sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Dad?”

He looked up. She could see him turn his head and smile as he faced the light. “Hi, sweetie. Done studying?”

“Yeah.” Riley walked into the room and stood beside the bookshelf, debating between the sofa and the coffee table for a seat. “What ‘cha doing?”

“Sitting,” he said. He held up his empty glass. “I was drinking, but it’s gone now.” He lowered the glass to the arm of the chair and stared into the dark corner of the apartment. “It’s all gone now.” She could hear his voice crack.

“What’s gone, Dad?” she asked. Riley stepped forward but kept her arms near her body, her fingers knotting together. She swallowed.

“Everything.”

“I’m here.”

He looked toward her, his smile lessening, wrinkles covering his forehead.  Wrinkles she didn’t remember being there. “You are. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

She watched his gaze go past her to the bookshelf. She could see the family portrait out of the corner of her eye. Her arms started to shake, nervous he might break down again, but she tightened her muscles to gain control. She had to stay strong for him. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, but it fell back when she lowered her gaze to the floor.

“I’m a terrible father,” he said, his eyes never leaving the picture on the shelf.

“No, you’re not,” she whispered. “We just need to work on your husband skills.” He tried but couldn’t fake a chuckle, the sound resonating from his throat reminding Riley of a choke, as if he were gasping for air.  He looked down at the glass in his hand and set it down on the dinner tray table beside the armrest.

“It’s getting late. Why don’t you head to bed?” he asked, sitting up in the chair and kicking down the footrest.

Riley swallowed again. “Are you sure? We can watch ‘Whose Line’ for a little while until you fall asleep.”

She watched him shake his head. “No, go on to bed.”

Riley turned away and walked to the edge of the living room. She rested her hand on the wall between the kitchen and the hallway. “Good night, Dad.”

“Good night, sweetie. Sleep tight.” She turned her head to see him close his eyes and lean against the back of the recliner. She followed the hallway to her bedroom. She closed the door with her body and slumped to her bed. Sitting down she was eye level with the picture of her and her dad from her fourteenth birthday party. Both of their eyes were closed from laughing so hard, and a tear had fallen from Riley’s eye as she fought to catch her breath. Her mother had taken that picture while Robyn sat on the floor, covering her mouth to hide her snort. A few months later her mother left after her father cheated the third time with the woman who lived two buildings over, the same woman who swore she was friends with Riley’s mom. Robyn left for college the following fall and when she returned for break, she stayed with their mom.

Riley didn’t agree with what her father had done. She tried to get him to slow down the drinking, for the sake of his health and bank account, but she knew none of that mattered so long as their family was broken up. At least the family was together before despite the emotional strain and turmoil they suffered during the fighting. Riley could wake up and check on her sister and parents sleeping in the beds they were supposed to be in. Now, with the family divided, she had to drive to the other side of town to see her mom, and when Robyn didn’t visit the apartment over her first break following the split, Riley didn’t know whether or not she knew how harshly that affected their father and his drinking. Even though she missed them, Riley had no choice but to stay with her father. Her mother couldn’t forgive him for being a horrible husband, but Riley couldn’t hate him for being the best dad she’d ever known.