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Creative Nonfiction

When I wake up he is already knocking on my door because he promised he would before leaving for work. He always wakes me up asking if I'd like a coffee despite having already started making it. 2 sugars with milk. I don’t like milk in my coffee but I won't tell him that. He feels guilty about waking me up, despite it being me who asked, so he buys a doughnut from the petrol station. It’s my favourite so I won’t say anything to him. He feels guilty about a lot of things. 

When I arrive in the country I get the train straight to my home town because he can’t pick me up. The train is long and I'm tired. I fall asleep sometimes but I know the route well enough to wake up on time. I always eat the sandwich or crisps I got on the flight on the train instead. He texts me a dozen times while I'm on the train because he’s worried. The first time I took the train straight from my home to him he was so worried I had to call him 8 times. He made me call him when I got to the platform, when I got on the train, when the train started moving and so on. He says he doesn’t worry anymore but I still tell everyone the story to embarrass him. When I get to the train station in my hometown he is already waiting on the platform. I hug him and hold out my bag with a dumb grin. He takes it anyway because he always does. It’s not really heavy and I don't actually mind carrying it but I like that he does it for me. 

We don’t go home straight away, we never do. It’s for the most part because he is still at work, he just takes a break to come and get me, but I'm always happy that we don’t. Instead, we go to Thomas’s. Thomas is his friend and his restaurant is right next to our old department. He works there as a cook in the evenings now. During the day he works somewhere else. It’s another thing he feels guilty about. He doesn’t have as much time for me anymore. I don’t mind since I'm happy enough about the time I don't get to spend with him but I don’t think he believes me. Thomas is there too today so it’s already a good start. I hug him and he makes his usual dumb jokes. I think Thomas is already drunk even though it’s only 5pm but it doesn’t surprise me. I place my bag in my usual seat in the corner of the restaurant. He promised to make me my favourite dish again like he always does when I arrive. I’m not sure if it’s my favourite anymore but I won't tell him that. He always looks so happy making it. 

I’ve still got school work to catch up on so I take out my laptop and try to work on the essay I’ve been putting off. Seeing as it's due at midnight I thought I should at least start it. He comes by to check on me a couple of times. He and Thomas offer me something to drink at least a dozen times and make sure to remind me I'm allowed to take anything I want. It’s only been ten minutes. We’ve lived here since I was seven. The rules haven’t changed in the past ten years. I know where the fridge is, I've worked here before. 

Maybe half an hour after I got here my dad says sorry that it was taking so long and that he’ll make my food soon. I didn’t say anything and given that I'm not an actual customer I was not in any way thinking about it. I try really hard not to laugh since he is apologising for something I didn't actually care about again. Of course, as any good person does I make sure to act thoroughly upset and starving. He laughs at me. Mission accomplished. 

Thomas comes back a little bit later and asks if he should make my “favourite” food. I’m not correcting him either. I don’t know if I should accept it or not. To be honest I am hungry now but I know my dad wanted to make my food. I don’t want him to feel guilty again. So that’s exactly what I say. Well almost exactly. I tell Thomas that he already wanted to make me food but Thomas dismisses it and says he has time and will make it instead. I feel a bit guilty but I won't complain about the food. Later when he comes back he asks if I’m hungry and I say Thomas is already making my food. I’m worried he’ll be sad but he just seems happy I'm getting food so I'm relieved. He always makes a kicked puppy face when he’s sad. The restaurant is one of my favourite places. Not just because I get well-made food for free every time I'm here. A lot of my favourite people come by here. People I've known since I was a child and my father’s friends. Despite how much I like it here given that I just got off a plane and have been sitting here a good couple of hours by now. It’s seven thirty-five and my dad finishes at eight pm. I don’t feel like working on my essay anymore so I close my laptop and lie my head on it instead. Thomas hates it when I do that so I try to sit up straight and play on my phone. He comes by a few minutes later saying that if I help him clean the kitchen we can go home early. I’m not really bothered about waiting but I help anyway. Sometimes I help do the dishes during my dad’s shift but I was too tired from my flight. We clean up pretty quickly and I go to grab the helmets while he walks toward the motorbike. He doesn’t have a car so we always take the bike. It’s why I make sure to only ever bring a backpack on the flight. I can’t put a suitcase on a motorbike. I always want to try it though.

He asked if I wanted to get a  Lamachu on the way back even though I just ate. I say yes anyway. We pick them up from a doner place on the way home like we usually do and eat them in the living room. He sleeps in the living room when I'm there because I have his room. But by the fact that when I lift the blanket on my bed and see the water bottle I left there 3 months ago, I'm pretty confident he always sleeps in the living room. In the old house, I had my own room in the attic. I think the current apartment is about the size of my old room. I liked that house but I like the apartment too. Plus I don't need the space. I always sit in the living room with him anyway. I think I actually like the apartment better. In the old house, he stayed in his office but now we spend all the time at home together in the living room. He feels guilty about the apartment being small but I don't really get it. I scroll through my phone looking for a new recipe to make tomorrow. He always makes dinner and lunch for me. Neither of us eats breakfast, but in the past few years, I've started cooking too. Only when I'm here though because I make the food for Him. No one wants to try my recipes back home but he always does! I usually make things he can take to work with him. 

When he gets back from work we go to the supermarket around the corner. He says I can get whatever I want and put it in the basket. He always does this. In the old house too. I would get cookies and chocolate and ice tea and my favourite puddings. He would have already bought most of my favourites beforehand anyway but we got more. Instead, I ask if he thinks I should get a bang of crisps and some pudding. He always suggests we get ice cream too. I feel guilty but he says he at least wants to do this for me. I can’t buy my favourite iced tea here and they don’t sell it in the country I live now. So he says he’ll get it for me from the other supermarket. The one we used to go to at our old house. I like that supermarket, they always have free cheese samples.

He makes me another one of my favourite foods for dinner. I don’t really think he actually likes it himself but we have it all the time when I’m home. They don’t sell it where I live now. When we’re watching a movie in the living room he starts nagging me to make him ice cream by pretending to be injured and sad. He does a terrible job at pretending since he’s not trying but I go make us ice cream Sundays anyway. I top it with cream and chocolate sprinkles from the jar on top of the fridge. We always make these in the evening. And when I give it to him he says thank you all happy as if he wasn't trying to guilt trip me earlier.

They don’t have any doughnuts at the petrol station the next morning so he promises to go to the new doughnut place with me on his work break tomorrow. There isn’t usually anywhere new in town so I was surprised when I first saw it. To be honest I was somewhat sad seeing my home town change without me. When he finally had time to take a break the doughnut place was already closed. I was a bit upset seeing as I was leaving again tomorrow but I smiled and said I don’t mind to him so he wouldn’t be sad. Instead, he takes me to the ice cream place across the road and gets me a fruit Sunday. He got a coffee for himself. 

We didn’t really have any ingredients at home but he figured out something to make me for dinner anyway. It was weird but I liked it anyway. After dinner, I pack my bag to leave in the morning. When I go through one of my old boxes looking for art supplies I need for class next week I see a small pink box. It was something he got me a few years ago when I arrived at the old house. It was a box of chocolates.  I don’t like the colour pink and I don't really like chocolate but I kept the box anyway because it made me happy when he gave it to me. I always smile when I see it. Since it’s my last night he makes the ice cream Sundays for the movie. 

The next day he wakes me up with a doughnut and coffee before taking me to the train station. I stopped crying every time I leave now. I smile and make jokes but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. When the train gets there he hands me back the bag of food to bring back home. My bag always doubles with food when I leave.

When I walked through the airport terminal on the other side she was waiting at the gate for me. I smile and hug her and we walk to the blue convertible. She loves the car, and so does my sister. They even gave it a name. On the way back I ask about lunch and she’s surprised I'm hungry but we stop at a restaurant on the way back anyway. Choosing food I always difficult here since we like different things. She doesn't usually feel like cooking and she doesn’t like my food so we eat out a lot. We go to a Thai restaurant and she says I can get a starter but not to ask for a hot dinner later. She doesn’t eat as much as me so we always fought about it growing up. I make myself soup for dinner. I think she had crackers.

The next morning it’s quiet when I wake up. She’s probably at work in one of her offices. I stop by sometimes and bring her cake or fruits. There's the reminisce of her breakfast on the kitchen table. I grab some of the food I brought back from my home town and put it in my backpack. You can’t get most of the things here so I always bring stuff for my sister and friends from the same country. We live in the city so my school is close by. I take the bus anyway. For lunch, most of us just go out to McDonald's or the cafe across the road. I have work after class so I drop the rest of the food off at my sister’s place. She’s not home but her boyfriend lets me in. He offers me tea and some chocolates. They’re the chocolates I bought for my sister last time. They’re almost empty so I made a mental note to get some more to bring her tomorrow. When she gets back from work she offers me a lentil burrito. 

When people ask why I like my sister so much I always say it’s because she gave me a burrito. That and the dozens of other meals she made me.

When I get back home she’s watching something in the living room. I ask her about dinner but she says she had a big lunch so I know she won’t be hungry. I decided to make the same soup from last night again. It’s the one my sister always made for me when I was sick so it’s my favourite. I have a kitchen in my room so I make most of my food there but I still sometimes need ingredients from the pantry in the main kitchen. It’s next to the living room so I stop by to see what she’s up to. She tells me that she needs to go abroad overnight on Friday. She’ll leave some money on the kitchen table for food. It’s something she started doing recently. I don't know why. She’s always gone on business trips so I already know where to find money, and anyway I make my own food most of the time when I'm here. I text my friends that night asking if they want to come over and bake something on the day she’s going abroad. I don’t like being alone. 

I’m a bit hungry when I went to sleep that night but I didn't buy any ingredients to make something else and I already spent the money from work on my flight. I’m meant to save up for a trip but I think it evens out since I don't spend any money on food when I'm there.

A few weeks later I received a parcel with snacks and food from my hometown. I laugh because I was just there and bought stuff back myself but he always sends me my favourites. I split the things I'll give to my sister from the stuff I'll keep and take a picture of me grinning next to the box holding up a peace sign. I send it to my dad and press the call button. He picks up after a few rings.

“Hey, dad!”

September 03, 2022 08:38

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1 comment

Wendy M
21:50 Sep 14, 2022

Hi Luka, I have received your story to critique. I like your story, which I'm guessing from the tags is drawn from personal experience. These are a few thoughts I had on the story and writing. The story completely hits the brief, well done. From the start, I was convinced you were referring to the father and you confirm this when you later use the term 'dad'. I wondered why you changed this when you refer to 'she' but don't change this to mother. I think this is the wrong word choice 'There's the reminisce' There is a lot of love and unde...

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