Past Imperfect Read Online Free PDF Page A

got the picture of my mom out of my head or I collapsed from exhaustion, whichever came first.

    Dad and I were sitting at the kitchen table eating pizza. We ordered out a lot now that Mom was gone. It’s been two years since I found her. Dad tried to sell the house right after, but didn’t get any offers. Their room has been completely redone: new carpet, new bed, new paint, but we never go in there. He sleeps either on the sofa or in the guestroom. All he does is go to work, for groceries, and he takes me to the occasional doctor and dentist appointments. That’s about it. He moves and breathes. He exists, but he’s not living anymore. I knew he loved and missed my mom a lot, but so did I. He had forgotten that I needed him too. I lost both my parents in one day.
    “Dad, we’re supposed to be at the field tomorrow at 8 am,” I said, picking up another piece of pizza. He turned his head in my direction. The same glassy dazed look that had taken up permanent residence in his eyes met me. I knew he had no idea what I was talking about even though I had asked him a week ago if he would come to my last game of the season. “My soccer game, Dad. It’s the last of the season. I asked you about it last week,” I said, annoyance evident in my voice.
    “I’m sorry, Mabry. I completely forgot.”
    “So, we have to be there at eight.”
    “I won’t be able to make it. I have to work,” he said robotically.
    “Tomorrow is Saturday and you promised last week you’d do whatever you needed to do at work, so you’d be able to make the game.”
    “Well, I tried, but didn’t get everything done.”
    “You didn’t try. You just said you completely forgot, so how could you have tried when you can’t even remember you still have a daughter who needs you at her last game?” I stood abruptly, shoving my chair, causing it to fall backward.
    “Mabry, I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard. I’ll try to do better. I promise.” His voice was shaky. It sounded so weak and small.
    “No you won’t! It’s been two years since you’ve acted like my dad. I miss her too. I think about her all the time. I still smell the blood when I pass by that door. I can’t get the image of her lying there out of my head. You’re the dad. You’re supposed to help me get through this, but you left me just like Mom did.”
    We stared at each other for a few seconds. Tears streamed down both our faces. He made no attempt to reach out, to hug me, or to comfort me in any way. All he did was stare at me with his dead eyes. I ran to my room, slamming the door as hard as possible. As I paced, I felt the anger that had started building at the table double in strength. I tried to breathe deeply to calm down, but it wasn’t helping. I hated my parents for not loving me enough. I hated my mom because she didn’t stay around to take care of me, and I hated my dad for not being strong enough to take care of me.
    I had to focus on something else. I had to stop thinking about how much my parents hurt me. I needed some way to make this pain go away. I stomped over to my dresser, picked up my hairbrush, and started hitting myself in the head. With every slap of the hard bristles on my scalp came a little relief. I concentrated on the stinging sensation instead of my parents. After five hits my head throbbed, but my anger had disappeared.
    Stay focused on the throbbing, Mabry. Think only about the throbbing.
    I crawled into bed still in my clothes. I had to fall asleep before the physical pain stopped because once it stopped, the real hurt would be back.

It’s been three days since Mabry ran out of my place. I decided to give her some room to breathe and recover. The look in her eyes that night just before she bolted was something I won’t forget. Mabry always has an underlying sadness in her eyes. They’re beautiful and mesmerizing, but sad. After a month of being together I asked questions, hoping she would open up. I wanted to know everything about