- And don't you dare complain to anyone! I gave birth to you All night she drew on a sheet of paper that was supposed to be hung in the classroom: "My family."
A girl of about nine stood quietly at the threshold. The room smelled of beer, cheap cigarettes and something sour. Dad was sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa, his eyes half-closed, his mouth half-laughing, half-swearing. There was an empty bottle on his lap. “Dad, I… there’s a matinee tomorrow. Will you come?” she whispered, fingering the hem of his sweater. He blinked slowly and stared at the ceiling. “A matinee? Why didn’t you tell me before? Huh?” He tried to get up, but his body wouldn’t obey. “You’re making it up again, like your mother. You’re all lying.” “No, I… I just wanted you to be…” his voice trembled treacherously. “Oh, don’t whine. Better take a couple of coins from the nightstand and buy Dad some cigarettes. If not, snitch on the neighbors. You’re the smart one.” She left silently. She sat down in the hallway, her forehead resting on her knees. A hoarse cry came from behind the door: