Its Called Chapters... Everyone Has One
In the midst of finding life outside of this shoe box that I live in, and the restaurant where I lend my hand, I have been building this portfolio!
Dinner was supposed to be at 6:30.
Kate had prepped the meal earlier that afternoon, knowing the kids would be hungry as soon as they walked through the door. His two and hers—four total—clamoring in the kitchen like cousins on a school night. Plates were set. Laughter bubbled up from the living room where the kids settled in with snacks and a show.
But Hank? Missing in action.
She glanced at the clock. 6:42. She stirred the pot out of habit, not need. By 7:15, dinner had been served, eaten, and cleared. She stood alone at the sink, her hands in hot water, looking out the back window like she might see headlights cutting through the dusk. But the alleyway remained empty.
He knew she was cooking. The kids all came home together. He hadn't a key yet... He did, though, so she thought he knew the schedule and A place he had at the table.
At 8:20, the back door creaked open. Kate turned slowly, towel in hand.
There he was—Hank in the flesh, reeking of beer, shots, and poor decisions. His shirt half untucked, his words slurred like loose gravel under tires.
“Got... held up,” he muttered. “Work stuff. Buddy needed a hand. Not a big deal.”
She stood there quietly, not moving, the towel clenched between her fingers.
“Dinner’s at 6:30,” she said evenly. “It’s always been that way. That’s how I was raised, and that’s what these kids will know.”
He snorted, plopping into a chair with all the grace of a falling log. “Alright, Martha Stewart. Didn’t realize we were running a drill camp.”
His tone was thick with sarcasm. Dismissive. Drunk.
She set the towel down. “You don’t have to be here. But if you say you’re coming—if you tell your kids you’re showing up—you show up.”
He looked up at her then, eyes glassy. “Jesus, it’s just dinner.”
“No,” she said. “It’s the foundation. And you just pissed all over it.”
He couldn’t eat. Couldn’t speak with coherence. Just a shell of the man who had sat in that truck, weeks ago, weaving sob stories and victim scripts like a master playwright.
Kate saw it now—the unraveling of a man who couldn’t hold consistency in his hands without squeezing it to dust.
And while the kids laughed from the other room, she made a quiet vow:
This wouldn’t be her normal. Not again.
The kids were starting to shift uncomfortably on the couch, their voices softer now, eyes flicking toward the kitchen like they were waiting for something—anything—to go back to normal. But nothing about this was normal.
Hank slouched deeper in his chair, elbow leaning too heavy on the table as he wiped his face and muttered something incoherent.
Kate didn’t bother asking him to clarify. She knew better. This wasn’t a conversation. This was a performance. And tonight’s act was sloppy, unscripted, and drunk.
Just as she reached to gather his untouched plate, he slurred out, “Don’t forget—we’re going to my mom’s this weekend.”
Kate blinked. “Excuse me?”
He waved his hand as if it were a calendar reminder she’d somehow missed. “Storm knocked out some lines. I need to check things around the house. She’s been on me about it.”
Kate narrowed her eyes. He couldn’t remember to show up for dinner—but he could remember to run to Mommy when a gutter needed tightening? The absurdity lodged itself in her chest like a bitter cough.
She said nothing.
But inside, something stirred.
This wasn’t just about dinner anymore. It was a snapshot of something deeper—of Hank’s priorities, his comfort zones, and that tangled emotional umbilical cord still tied to his mother. Kate didn’t know the full picture yet, but this was the second time something felt… off. The cracks weren’t just showing—they were widening.
She finished the dishes in silence, the clinking of plates against porcelain like punctuation in a conversation no one was brave enough to start.
And across the room, four kids sat quietly. Watching. Absorbing. quietly, Kate thought, my God, what else have his kids witnessed?
It was only the beginning.
Like I said, we all have chapters. Some are a bit more descriptive, and some unfold into deeper issues. Oh, that first Chapter is called " It is what it is." Ya know,😉 the beginning of online dating and the mishaps of dating a guy down the block, fixed up by mutual friends. Hank wrapped up in victimhood, taking no accountability but yet thrives on sympathy and control. A con game based on a lot of charm and a whole lot more lies!
Stay tuned...
Kitryn Marie
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