I shot straight up in bed, panicked. I could have sworn there was something outside my window, or someone. Maybe it me being stupid but it scared me senseless.
Why in the world would someone be outside my window? I peeled the covers back off of my body and slid off of my bed to walk to the window of my room and peer out of it. It was a cold night and my breath was fogging up the window. But as far as I could tell, no one was outside my house, let alone near my window. I didn't know what time it was but I wasn't going to fall back asleep, not tonight.
I went back to my bed and lay there staring up at the ceiling thinking about the fight mama and daddy had earlier after he came home from the gin mill. I think he was ossified because I could here them yelling all the way from downstairs in the kitchen. It was awful. Daddy wanted to go to the authorities and tell them about something Mr. Fitzgerald was doing. I was confused, I thought they were friends. Why would daddy want to put him in jail? He’s a nice man. But daddy said he had to because Mr. Fitzgerald constantly obsessed about Russia's government and America's government was all wrong. And that he was a communist. I didn't quite understand what he meant but mama begged him not to tell, she said there would be consequence. But they had gone to bed and it was silent now. No more yelling.
I laid there for about fifteen more minutes before I decided to get some water from downstairs. I walked out of my room and down the hall, stopping in front of my parent's room. I noticed something ominous. Their room smelt of marzipan. And they were awake. Daddy was lying down on the bed and mama was standing next to the bed where he lay with her back to me. It was pretty dark so all I could see was their outlines but I could tell mama was covering daddy's face with her hand. Daddy had a habit of rambling. And another odd thing was that it was the middle of winter, but the window was wide open. They must have been really hot, probably necking with each other.
Daddy noticed me standing there, reached out his hand and wiggled his fingers at me, waving. But he didn't stop. He kept waving for longer than normal. He could be such a jokester. I waved back until he let his arm drop. Then mama turned her head and waved too. I waved to her and continued downstairs.
I got to the bottom of the stairs and walked through family room and the diner to get into the kitchen. Only to find my mother, Samantha, against the counter drinking a cup of coffee.
"Hey bird," she said to me. "What are you doing up so late darling?"
And again I was in a panic. If mama was down here, with me, then who's upstairs with daddy? I lost it. "Daddy!!" I screamed. I ran back up the stairs my mama close behind me.
"Lily, wait!" she yelled. "What's wrong with daddy?"
I got upstairs and stood in the exact spot I stood not even five minutes ago, right outside my parent's room. The window was still open and the faint smell of marzipan was still present. The only difference was that my father was alone. Something was terribly wrong.
My mother finally caught up to me and asked "What's wrong sweetheart?" I looked up at her, near tears. All I could do was point at daddy. "What?" she asked once more. She looked into the room and began to walk in. "Why is the window open? And what is that smell? Is that almonds?"
She walked over to the bed and shook my father. "Jacob, Jacob, why is the window open." But he didn't answer. She reached over to the lamp and pulled the cord that provided her with the light that she needed to see her husband's dull lifeless eyes.
He was dead, nothing but an empty beer bottle.
And next to the lamp on the bedside table was a note where the words "Tell my secret and die like he did. So pipe down." were scribed. And all I did was stand there.
And cry.
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