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It was the kind of question that didn’t really require much of an answer. Lucy did anyway.“Yeah, I’m sorry. We’re closing up for the night.”“Nah, it’s fine. Sorry for taking up space for so long. I like background noise when I read, easier to focus.” He cracked a slight smile then, which Lucy couldn’t help but return it.“I can tell,” she said brightly, “that book must be fascinating.” His smile widened in response, and he tilted the cover so she could read it. A Christmas Carol. How cliché.“It’s better than you’d think,” he defended himself before she’d even had a chance to voice her opinion. “Seriously, it’s a classic for a reason.”“But Dickens? No one reads him anymore except English Majors.” Lucy smiled as she teased him. Was she flirting? He was cute, but he was also a stranger.“And Computer Science Majors,” he corrected. He chuckled, and then his smile subsided. “Either way, I’ll get going. Thanks for the Frappuccino.” Nick stood to leave and closed his book without checking his. Timmy was only 3, so he was too young for her death to really impact him, and as for Dad, well, he just got really moody, and spent most of his time outside the house. While he had never really been the warmest father to us, even while Mom had been alive, he was almost distant now. Many nights, he would come home drunk, the smell of booze and cigarettes all over his clothing. For the most part, it was just me and Timothy at home. I wound up having to do most of the housework. I was only 14 then, and most of the times, it was just us two fending for ourselves.My body started to really develop about the time I turned fifteen. I think Dad also became aware of my development then, because I began to notice him eyeing my chest-at first furtively, but then more and more openly as time went on. We were never really a cuddling type of family, so I knew things weren't quite okay when he started asking me for hugs, or when Timmy and I would be watching a movie in the living room, and he'd walk.
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