A Lost King: A Novel Read Online Free Page B

while you eat it. All of it.”
    â€œIt’s not his fault,” said Nina.
    â€œI wasn’t talking to you,” he said. “He climbed on the horse and we’ll let him ride…. How’s the stew?”
    â€œIt’s good,” I said.
    â€œBe careful,” he said, ominously.
    I took a deep breath.
    â€œThis stew is a treat,” I said.
    He swept the dish off the table.
    â€œClean it up and go to bed!” he said. “Right now!”
    Later that night two fellow workers from the steel mill came to visit him. He was in such a drunken fury that he turned the oven on full blast to get rid of them. Those two men sat there sweating in the kitchen. They couldn’t stand it. Suddenly they leaped to their feet. They were dancing round as though the floor itself had gone hot. They were gasping and grabbing for their coats and plunging through the door. My father burst into laughter.
    After a bad day in his crane at the mill he rushed home to complain about everything in sight. He tasted the beef soup and then jumped with a cry and threw dish and all against the wall. He always threw it against the same spot over the sink. Nina burst into tears and ran into her bedroom. I sat there eating while my father cursed and pounded the table. Dishes and cups were dancing.
    â€œDo you call this living?” he said. “Work and sweat like an animal and then come home to this? Dishwater for supper! You should be ashamed of yourself! I say there’s no love in you! You won’t even take the time to cook a decent meal for your own flesh and blood! You couldn’t hold a dog in the house with this food! By Christ, he’d rip your apron off! Why the hell do you even wear an apron?”
    Nina was crying.
    â€œLook around,” he said. “Look at this house. Five rooms to clean and it’s like a tornado hit! What the hell do you do all day? I know, I know: you brush your hair and paint your lips and look in the mirrors. I wish I had a dollar for every time you saw yourself. You should have a twin sister. You could spend the day holding hands and looking at each other!—What’re you doing?”
    I was eating. I was eating everything in front of me. I finished my soup and snatched his bread. I speared some boiled beef. I was reaching for the lettuce and tomato salad when he turned on me.
    â€œEating,” I said.
    â€œI hear it,” he said, grinding his teeth. “How was the soup?”
    â€œIt was all right.”
    â€œIs that the truth?” he said, looming in a dangerous way.
    â€œIt wasn’t so bad.”
    â€œI’ll give you one more chance.”
    Nina was sobbing.
    â€œIt was remarkable,” I said, bracing myself.
    I jumped sideways as he turned the table over.
    â€œGet out of my sight,” he said, softly. “Quick, quick. I don’t want to see your face tonight.”
    Hour after hour he sat in the kitchen. I watched him through my bedroom door. He was drinking wine. His big brown work shoes sat on the floor beside him. They were like puppies. There were dark stains of sweat under the arms of his dungaree shirt. Now he was looking at his black cap and lunchpail on the cupboard. Beside them were his work gloves like smashed swollen hands. His glance went up to his black hat on top of the gleaming new refrigerator. It was the hat he saved for special occasions and for remembering. He got up and put it on. He sat down again. He was leaning forward in the chair. Surely he was thinking of my mother. Long into the night they would stay up to hold hands and drink wine and laugh. Her laughter was hushed and sweet. He would snort. Remembering, I got out of bed just to let him know I was there with him. He watched me. He beckoned.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” he said.
    â€œI can’t sleep. I guess I’m thirsty.”
    He gave me half a glass of wine.
    â€œIt’s good,” I said.
    â€œI know. For you