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Mattie walked down the old, creaky wooden stairs of her home. She traced her fingers on the railing of the stairs as she came down wearing a pink tank-top with a cute ribbon on it, which tightly fit her large, curved figure. The striped sleep pants she wore drooped over and obscured her large thighs, hiding the scars beneath. The scars on her arms were fully revealed, but at this point it was known by her family that she had been hurting herself. She was forced into staying clean for a while, and the scars on her arms had faded into soft pinks and purples.
Her bare feet touched the cold, hardwood floor as she came down and peeked around the corner in the living room. She noticed her dad sitting on the couch, slumped back with a bottle of wine alongside a glass sitting on the coffee table in front of him. She knew her dad was a light-weight drinker, and he would likely spend the following morning miserable and pissy if she didn’t stop him.
“...Dad?” Mattie solemnly whispered to her dad from the corner.
“Alfie! Love, why dont’ya join me?” Arthur called back, not turning around.
Mattie frowned. “No, Dad I’m— I’m Mattie.” Alfred had left the house nearly two hours ago to go on a date with his girlfriend Kiku, and her dad had helped him get ready. He always did this, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it always stung.
“Mattie, Alfie, whoever…” Arthur hicced. “Sit with me, dear!”
“Dad, shouldn’t you be in bed?” Mattie mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t have an outburst over this.
“Oh, Alfie, dear—”
“Mattie…” She corrected silently.
“—you don’t know what you’re saying! It's a Friday evening, why not relax a bit.” Arthur commented, patting the couch a bit, inviting Mattie to sit with him.
“No, Dad, you’ve had enough tonight.”
Arthur scowled. “Alfie, please darling, don’t lecture your father. I know what I can handle.”
“Dad, please, I’m Mattie!” Mattie said a bit louder this time.
“Please don’t raise your voice right now.” Arthur grimaced, rubbing his temple.
Mattie irritatedly sighed and walked over to the couch, sitting herself down next to Arthur and laying her head on his shoulder in a comforting manner. As she did. Arthur began to sob— he sobbed tears that seemed to have been trapped for ages.
“Alfie— you look so much like Francis.”
Mattie didn’t correct him this time. She just laid with her dad as he began to sob. This wasn’t uncommon for her, but she hated when this happened. She didn’t want to hear about this— she hated the thought of her parents’ divorce. It just burned and reminded her that she was the result of something that was never meant to happen. The marriage was out of necessity— not out of love. Mattie convinced herself of this, that she was just the result of a big accident. They didn’t even want twins, she just happened to come with Alfred. Living with Arthur more often than Francis hurt because Arthur made it obvious he loved Alfred more, and he would always mistake Mattie for Alfred.
Mattie wiped a tear that began to fester in the corner of her eye. She laid with Arthur as he began to just spill out his emotions.
“God I was such a moron with him.” Arthur sobbed, “I should’ve known he would end up leaving me, he was always such a twat. He just wanted to mooch off of my money for a while and once he got some he was off to whore around with others. God I’m such an idiot, I should’ve known with him!—”
Mattie hated hearing her dad and Arthur always talk about her papa. Mattie sighed and stood up, preparing to take the wine bottle back to the liquor cabinet, but then Arthur grabbed her wrist.
“Oh, love, please don’t leave me like how Francis did.”
Mattie paused at this and just looked at Arthur. She looked at her dad— drunken, lonely, and wildly depressed— and she felt pity. She sighed and looked at him, her eyes sympathetic and her expression soft. She brushed away her father’s meaty hand and assured him that she would be right back, before walking off to the kitchen in the next room.
Mattie began to sob in the next room, pulling out her phone, which had been sitting in her back pocket. She unlocked it as she put the wine in the large, over-the-top cabinet filled with a variety of brands of liquors and wines. Mattie opened her messaged with her papa and texted him one thing:
“Papa, please come get me if you’re still awake”
She then opened her messages with Alfred to shoot him a message that was also a vague cry for help. Just as she did, she noticed she had one missed message from him, and it was just a message that was a dumb picture of him and Kiku at a restaurant together. She realized this, and just replied with a little pink heart emoji before putting her phone away again, not wanting to disturb his date.
Mattie came back to the living room after wiping her tears onto the back of her neck. She found her dad still weeping to himself. She hated this— and she hated dealing with this even more. She huffed to herself before walking over to Arthur and putting a hand on his shoulder to grab his attention.
As he looked up at her, he had a pitiful expression. His eyes were red and puffy, his nose was runny, his eyebrows furrowed, exposing the lines from aging across his face. The tears stained his cheeks, and marked little wet dots on his messy green button up. His face was flushed from blood rushing to his head after drinking, which only made him look even more pathetic.
Mattie couldn’t help but make a sullen expression at the sight of her father appearing as such a mess in front of her. She offered a hand to help him up, and as she did, he stood with her assistance. She was taller than her father, so it was no trouble guiding him around the house— the problem came when she had to take him up the stairs to his room. She seriously considered having him sleep on the couch for a moment, but she feared he would just get up and retrieve another bottle.
Mattie guided her dad up the stairs, step by step, slowly. She was careful to not let him fall, mostly for his sake, but also because she didn’t want to go down with him. Each step creaked as they both stepped onto it. The creaking always scared Mattie— it made her feel like they were about to break beneath her weight, and that anxiety was only worse with two people on the stairs.
She felt a wave of relief as they reached the top of the stairs. She continued guiding her teary-eyed father to his room, opening the door for him and handing him off to his bed. He laid down on the bed, over the covers and continued crying into his pillow. He didn’t say anything, and neither did Mattie.
The room was a mess— clothes scattered on the floor and piles of old stuff from hoarding. Memorabilia of Mattie and Alfred’s childhood sat on the ground, as well as photos that Francis had either been torn or burned out of. Mattie looked at the bedside table. On it sat a lamp with an old stained-glass nightshade alongside a small music box. Mattie looked at her dad before picking up the music box and leaving the room. She didn’t know what to say, and if she was honest, she didn’t want to talk to him much longer.
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Mattie went back to her own bedroom. It was technically her and Alfie’s, but Alfie was barely around anymore.
She sat herself down on the lower half of her and Alfie’s shared bunk bed and held the music box in one hand. She checked her phone to see if her papa had responded, of which he had.
“I’ll be over in a minute, mon ange.”
Mattie put her phone down and held the music box with both hands now. It was small, and wooden. It was delicately burned to have flowers engraved into it: roses and irises adorned the sides and swirled together. Mattie’s fingers softly opened it and she stared at herself in the mirror inside. She looked at her small, blue eyes that reflected the light from the lamp in her room. She twisted the crank on the side of the music box and listened to the notes play throughout the room as she waited for Francis to come get her.
A tear fell from her freckled cheek to her scarred arm.
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