Midnight Coffee

Content Warning: Mentions of physical and domestic abuse

Sophie grabs the light blue mug from the back of the cabinet, wiping off five years of dust on her shirt. Its quirky design of two pugs riding a tandem bicycle makes her smile; she'd forgotten how determined the front pug looked to get them where they needed to.

“How have you been?”

“Come on, Sophie. That’s not what you want to ask.”

She scoops sugar into the empty mug, slides it underneath the Keurig dispenser, and presses the 12 oz. button. She tries again. “...where have you been?”

“Kansas,” her brother answers, the mention of a state so far away makes her shoulders tense. “For a few months, at least. Then a buddy of mine got me a job in Arkansas, so I went out there for a couple of years. After that, it was Texas, Wisconsin, back to Kansas, and now I’m helping build this big office in Wyoming. After that’s done, who knows?”

“Who knows,” Sophie repeats to herself as the mug fills with coffee. “So, you’re still doing construction then?”

“It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

The weight of their father's mantra creates a suffocating tension in the kitchen. Sophie waits, wondering if the words could reach upstairs and shake their father back into a state of lucidity he hasn’t had since his diagnosis. The only response she receives is one she’s become all too familiar with: silence.

“You know that’s not true,” she responds. The dispenser sputters to a halt. She grabs a small spoon, places it in the mug, and repeats the whole process for her own cup of coffee.

Back at the table, David is leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. In the silence, he had been looking around their childhood home. “Not much has changed, huh?”

Sophie sits on the opposite side of the table, looking everywhere he does. Five pictures still hang on the wall next to the garage door; she remembers how long her mother fought to keep the fifth one up. The ornate rug still sits underneath the living room table, hiding the stain from when Sophie spilled paint on it and the other stain after their father found out and David covered for her. Even the coat closet still has the same number of hangers inside, with the same number of coats and the same number of belts.

“We got a new TV,” Sophie says, pointing to where it stands on the entertainment center they built together.

David’s eyebrows raise in the way an adult does when a child shows them their new finger painting. “You did. Still watching all those shitty reality shows?”

Sophie pouts, “Still watching your favorite sports teams suck ass?”

David gasps and puts a hand on his chest. “Low blow.”

“You started it,” Sophie argues, sliding the mug towards him.

“Thanks,” he says, stirring the obscene amount of sugar throughout the drink. “Those aren’t the same pods from five years ago, right?”

“Of course not. I drank all those after you left.” Someone had to.

Her brother looks at her with what seems like genuine curiosity. “You drink coffee now?”

A mixture of pride and defiance exudes from Sophie as she scoffs. “I’m seventeen, I can drink coffee if I want to.”

“How scandalous.” David shakes his head and raises the mug to his lips. “Next thing you’ll tell me you’re staying up past your bedtime and kissing boys.”

“Shut up,” Sophie counters.

“Rude,” David rebuts.

“Your face is rude.”

“Your face is rude.”

“Yeah, well you…you’re a…” Sophie sticks her tongue out, as does David. Their age-old argument ends as the siblings snort and giggle, and for a moment it’s as if no time has passed at all.

But it has, and as silence settles in once more, Sophie sees the man that David has become. Dark rings have embedded themselves underneath his once bright, blue eyes, his skin is cracked and calloused, and the stubble that once adorned his jaw has settled into a poorly trimmed beard. It’s hard to believe they’re only nine years apart.

David takes another sip and asks, “How is she doing?”

Sophie’s eyes travel back up the stairs, and she sighs. “She’s tired. When she's not at the hospital working, she's there checking on dad. I take care of myself a lot now because she doesn't come home until late at night. It sucks." Her eyes widen as she realizes what she’s saying. “I’m sorry, I sound really selfish. I didn't mean to make this about me-"

“It’s not selfish,” her brother says, taking another sip before reaching a hand across the table. “You're stuck here. Dad's a lost cause but mom is choosing to stay by his side instead of looking out for us- ah, for you. Just like she’s always done.”

Sophie shakes her head. “She’s not doing that. She’s trying to make this work, and I’m making this sound worse than it is.”

“No. Don’t downplay this, Sophie. This whole thing sucks, and you deserve better. You always have."

Sophie looks at her brother; past his set jaw and furrowed brow, she sees what she’s always seen. She never faulted David for leaving and going no-contact. After every ‘lesson’ from their father, he would put on a brave face, but she could always see the pain behind his eyes. This time, however, she can tell the pain isn't for him.

She places her hand on top of his, squeezing his fingers gently. “I'm trying to make this work too,” she says softly, as if not wanting anyone else to hear.

“This is not your burden to bear,” David says, lowering his voice as well.

Sophie shrugs. “How can it not be? This is our father.”

“You can't fall into the same trap mom did. Our dad is a lost cause, he's holding on out of spite. You have no obligation to do anything or be anywhere for him.” The moonlight that sifts through the blinds illuminates the change in her brother’s expression; it lets her know what he’s saying without saying it.

“David, I’m not like you,” she says as tears begin to pool in her eyes.

“You’re right. You’re so much better than me– better than this whole messy, fucked-up family. But if you stay here, I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to see that.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, you jerk,” Sophie jokes.

“I mean it.”

“Your face means it.”

“Sophie.”

This is not how this is supposed to go. Why is David staying serious instead of bantering? Why won’t he stick his tongue out when she does the same? Why won’t these stupid tears go back in her stupid face?

With a defiant sniffle, Sophie tries to lighten the mood one more time. “I…missed you. So much.” But she can't.

David hurries to the other side of the table, wrapping his arms around his shaking sister. The five-year-old dam finally bursts, and Sophie buries her tears into her brother’s shirt. He smells like dirt and sweat, leather and wood, safety and warmth. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I missed you too.”

They stay where they are for the better side of an eternity, making up for text messages never sent, calls never made, and roads never traveled. The peace is only broken once Sophie mumbles into his chest, “How long are you staying?”

She feels him take a long breath. “I’m not,” he says.

Sophie sits back up, regretting it instantly as the cold air hits her. “I know you’re not moving back in or whatever, I just meant how long you’ll be in town for.”

David shakes his head. “I’m getting back on the road after this, I just came here for you.”

“Driving all the way from Wyoming just to say hi?” Sophie tries to grin, but it comes out as a pained smile. “That’s crazy.”

“It is crazy.” David reaches across the table to grab his mug and sits next to his sister. “But I didn’t come here just to say hi.”

Sophie raises an eyebrow, “Then why are you here?”

David takes a pensive sip of his coffee and leans forward. “I want you to come with me.”

Sophie's stomach drops as the floor comes out from underneath her. “...what?” she breathes out.

“Not right now, obviously. But after you graduate, come move in with me.” His eyes widen as if they're already in Wyoming.

The thought of going out to find her brother had crossed her mind many times over the years. As did the thought of what her life would have been like if she faded into the night with him. But that was during a different time, with a different Sophie and a different David.

She takes her brother's hand. “David, I told you mom needs help. I don’t want to leave her here to do everything for our dad.”

He shakes his head, and his smile deforms into a look of confusion. “That’s not your responsibility."

“Mom needs someone for her after dad’s gone.”

“Who says that has to be you?”

“I do.”

“That’s...this isn't right." His brows furrow as he tries to decode the rising flaws in his plan. "Mom hurt us just as much as dad did.”

Sophie shivers despite the warm night. “Mom never laid a finger on us," she says, wondering why she would even need to remind him.

“She was complicit, she let it happen.”

“She was protecting us just like you protected me. It would have been so much worse without her.” Sophie tries to rest her hands on his shoulders, but David stands up and walks away. He looks at the living room, his back turned to her and his shoulders pulled up to his ears. Whenever this happens, Sophie would hug him from behind and wait until the tension left his body.

But David turns around before she has a chance to get closer, the redness of his eyes still visible in the darkness. “Why are you defending her?” he hisses out.

Sophie thinks of the things David never saw. The books and pamphlets in their mother's purse, the belts she hid away, the long talks with their father on the driveway before they went inside. It's thoughts of the past and this eerily familiar scene playing out with different characters that brings the tears back. "David...she tried her best," she manages to say.

His eyes darken. “Her best wasn’t good enough. It still happened, Sophie.”

“I’m not saying it didn’t, I–I’m saying she dealt with it the only way she knew how. Just like how you dealt with it by running away!” The words Sophie promised never to say escape her mouth before she can realize it. When it hits her, though, she stands petrified, a pitiful hand reaching out to her brother. "David, I didn’t mean that.”

David doesn't respond, doesn't move. His eyes are fixed to the floor as if he's somewhere else. He shakes his head as he comes back to her, but his voice has lost all the bitterness from before. “No…no, you’re right. I did run away, and it’s not fair to you to think you’d want to do the same. I’m sorry.”

Sophie wraps her arms around her brother and utters, “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault.”

“Yeah," he says, not hugging her back. "Listen, I–I gotta get going. I need to hit the road now if I want to beat the morning traffic.”

“Oh." Sophie steps back, trying to meet David's eyes but he's already looking toward the front door. She wipes her face with her arm. "O–Okay. Yeah, that’s smart."

David nods and walks to the door, his worn-out boots create a hollow echo. When he unlocks it, Sophie finds her voice again.

"Wait before you go, uh, graduation’s in May. May twenty-third. Do you think– I mean is it possible you could…”

She trails off. David keeps his back to her, letting out a breath and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll see if I can," he answers. "The contract will be up around May and I’m thinking of looking around for other, uh…other jobs.”

“Yeah." Sophie clears her throat, putting on a smile even though no one will see it. "No yeah, that’s smart. Just don’t forget, okay? May twenty-third.”

“May twenty-third," he repeats to himself. "I’ll see you later, Sophie.”

"See ya...David." The words leave Sophie's lips with less resistance than she wanted, and she watches her brother walk out the door the same way he did five years ago.

It isn't until the rumble of David's truck dissipates back into the night that Sophie feels her legs start working again. She walks back to the table and grabs her brother's half-empty mug, the coffee now too cold for consumption. She goes to the sink to dump its contents out but something on the counter catches her eye.

A full mug of coffee left forgotten and unfinished underneath the Keurig dispenser.