Creeps Read Online Free Page B

have left it in the pot.”
    â€œSupper’s at five.”
    His father peers into his own teacup. “This isn’t fit either, I suppose?”
    Wayne’s mother doesn’t say anything.
    Wayne’s dad stands up and takes his soup over to the stove. Throws it in amongst the hot stuff, then refills his bowl. Comes back over. Nearly misses his chair upon sitting and sets everything shaking on the table. Wayne’s milk spills over the sides of his tumbler and tea splashes onto the tablecloth. Wanda’s able to cover her glass of Diet Coke just in time.
    His father rights himself, then hovers over his food and starts eating.
    Wayne’s mother rubs her forehead.
    The grandfather clock chimes.
    Finally, his mother says, “Where’s the butter?”
    Wayne slowly turns to look at his father. Wanda does, too.
    His father looks up from his bowl. Red eyes. Brows slanted downward. Bits of soup entangled in his moustache. On the verge of falling asleep it looks like. He breathes in. Exhales. Glances around the kitchen as if he’s trying to remember where he put something.
    Wayne’s mother goes, “‘I’ll pick some up,’ that’s what you said, Calvin.”
    His father is still for a moment, then he drops his spoon into his soup. Pushes the bowl aside and glares across the table. “The minute I get in the door.”
    No one says anything.
    â€œJust once I’d like to walk in and not have you nag me.”
    Wayne’s mother leans forward but doesn’t speak.
    â€œYou think Frank Hewitt up the street has to put up with this every time he comes home … What?”
    â€œYou’re far from Frank Hewitt,” Wayne’s mother says.
    â€œIs that right?”
    â€œI’m sure when Frank Hewitt tells his wife he’s going to pick something up he bloody well comes back with it.”
    â€œI forgot.”
    â€œâ€˜I forgot,’ he says. Don’t forget the bar though.”
    Wanda pushes out her chair and leaves.
    â€œWouldn’t forget the bar if you had Alzheimer’s,” his mother says.
    Wayne clutches his glass just as his father swipes his own bowl onto the floor, flecks of pea soup striking Wayne’s face.
    Wayne’s mother stands. “You’ve thrown your last bowl!”
    â€œHave I now?”
    She walks around the table—needing an extralong stride to clear the broken bowl and spilled soup—into the hall. “That’s the last bowl you’ll ever throw!” A door slams. Then it goes quiet.
    Wayne wipes his face and lets go of his glass and sees the imprint of his fingers.
    His dad’s staring in the direction of the hall. Then he turns and rests his face in his palms. After a while he lifts his head and looks at Wayne. “Do me a favour.”
    â€œOkay.”
    His father yawns and rubs his belly because his belly’s always upset. Shifts closer. “Run to the store after you’re finished and get some butter.”
    Wayne nods. His dad reaches over and messes his hair, then goes to pick up the broken bowl but Wayne does it for him, sweeping the shards into a dustpan and sopping up the pea soup with paper towels and then dropping it all into the garbage beneath the sink. He goes back over and sits down. Finishes his milk.
    His father stares out the window.
    â€œMom says Uncle Philip used to be on TV,” Wayne says finally.
    His dad turns to him.
    â€œWas in a dog show then drove a truck or was it a taxi?”
    His father goes to pick up his mug but then remembers it’s not fit for drinking. “It was a van. Showbiz people, mostly. Picked them up at the airport and drove them to their hotels or to movie sets.”
    A long silence.
    Then Wayne says, “You’ve never mentioned it.”
    His father coughs and wipes his mouth and goes back to staring out the window.
    â€œHow about getting that butter now?”
    Wayne nods. Walks to the foyer and gets