Sidenote - This is the beginning of the 2nd chapter for my new story.*Beware: The last 6 paragraphs have vulgar language.*
After parking his Pontiac, William thought he'd go inside his house and sleep. Instead, he decided to smoke one more cigarette because, hey, why not? So there he sat against the trunk of his car, staring up into the cloudy night sky and enjoying one last stick. He exhaled smoke, feeling the harsh warmth escape his throat, and watched it seemingly vanish into the clouds above. The moon was white, full, and bright as if it kept a watchful eye over Northhaven.
A door clicked opened, and William shifted his gaze to see a middle-aged woman exit the front of her home from across the street. She put up her black hood, folded her arms, then crossed the road toward William. When she reached the driveway she smiled widely at him.
"Hello, Mrs. Lucero," William greeted with a smile back. The Filipino woman had been his neighbor since he moved in seven years ago, but William knew she and her husband have lived in this neighborhood longer than that. They never spoke much with each other after their first meeting, and almost all encounters consisted of only small gestures like hand waves.
"Ah, William!" she whispered in a more excited tone than William expected. Though it was dark, William could tell that her deep brown eyes were full of unexplainable happiness, a trait she and her husband shared. "I am doing okay. What about you, ha?"
"I'm just fine, thanks. What brings you out this late?" William asked as he took a drag, "Not tired?"
"No, I am not tired," Mrs. Lucero shook her head, strands of black hair falling in front of her face. "I was just there watching some television in the living room, then I hear somebody drive over here at your house," she explained with pointed fingers and lips. "And then I look here, and I see you are bleeding. That is why I come out here, William, to check on you."
William looked down then scratched his cheek; he had forgotten about covering up his bloodied shirt. He sighed then zipped up his jacket. "Don't worry, it's been patched up. I got hurt on the job, and I appreciate the concern," he said. He brought the cigarette to his lips, then stopped. "Oh, sorry, you don't mind, do you?"
Mrs. Lucero gave him a smirk and thumbs up. "No, it's okay, go ahead. My husband and I smoke, too."
"Would you like one then?" William pulled out the pack and matches, then offered them to Mrs. Lucero.
"Oh sure, thank you," she said as she took the items. When she flipped open the top of the pack, her eyebrows shot up. "Oh, I have never seen this brand before. Lucky Smokes?" She handed it back to William before lighting a match. On the front of it was a green shamrock with the name of the brand written below it. "Is this foreign brand?"
"Yeah it is. I was in a rush when I bought them," William lied. He couldn't possibly tell her how he actually got the pack. "I just pointed at them and the cashier grabbed it and rang it up. I thought it'd be menthol since it was green, guess not," he chuckled.
"It would be confusing, ha?" she laughed along, handing the matches back to William. "Oh yeah, by the way I met Robert a little while ago, too."
William froze for a moment, and he felt as if the heat in his body escaped him all at once. He tilted his head then gave Mrs. Lucero a squinted look. "Robert?"
She nodded as she smoked. "Yes, your father. I saw him about an hour ago walking around your home. I thought it would be a robber, so my husband and I come out here to see him. We did not believe him at first that he was related to you, but after he told us he knew where the spare key would be, we believed him. Oh, and you two have the same eyes and nose! That's what really gave it away. Is he visiting?"
William felt his blood rush and his teeth clenched. Keeping a smirk, he got off the trunk of his car and said, "Sorry Mrs. Lucero, I have to tend to that. I completely forgot about him coming over." He put out his cigarette.
"Oh, do not worry, William, family is important and I need to get going anyways," she responded. "Thank you for the cigarette, ha? Bye, I will see you later."
"Sure Mrs. Lucero, have a nice night." The woman walked back to her home, and William immediately bolted through the front door of his. There, snoring with an open mouth on his living room couch was a stocky man with short, graying black hair. On top of the table ahead of it was a brown duffel bag with the initials 'RW' stitched on the side. William slammed the door, startling his father awake.
"Huh, wha-?" Robert mumbled, blinking his hazel eyes as he sat up. William flipped the light switch and caused his father to shield them.
"What're you doing here?" William asked with tensed muscles.
"William?" he groaned. William stayed silent. Robert moved his hands then smiled. "It's good to see you, kid. Looks like your memory has gotten better, huh? I could tell you haven't needed to use your spare key for a while with all the dust and dirt around and all-"
"What are you doing here?" William asked again, emphasizing each word.
"Kid, can't you cut me some slack?" Robert chuckled out, smirking. "It's been-"
"Shut the fuck up with that 'kid' shit and just answer my goddamn question," William shot. "What the hell are you doing here, and how the hell did you find me?"
"Is that any way to speak to your father?" Robert narrowed his eyes and got up from the black leather couch. "I haven't seen you, let alone even spoke to you for the past seven years."
"There's a damn good reason I haven't kept touch, and you know it," William retorted pointing his finger at him. "And I swear to God even if after all these years you still deny what you've done -"
"Here we go again, not even a minute into the conversation and you bring this old thing up," he interrupted. "You two always blamed me for things I didn't do, and now what? What are you going to do to me? Are you going to threaten to kill me again like before?"
"I just fucking might."
"What's wrong with you, William?" Robert shook his head. "Who would want to kill their own father?"
ASSIGMNENT: Everyone except the author leaves a critique on this piece. Later in the week, the author can join in, but only to ask questions.
Please don't leave highlighted comments. The author can't tell which part you are talking about. It does take more time to type out a snippet of what you are talking about, but that's the only way for the writer to know what you are referring to.
