My alarm tone was the typical yelling of the vitriolic couple upstairs and as I tiredly emerged out of my early teens' decorated room, dad did too, dressed in his white undershirt and calf-length trousers. "What time is it papá?"

"Siete," dad replied wearily, stifling a yawn. "They started early today."

"Yeah, it isn't eight yet." I languidly walked towards the cleaning cabinet in our tiny kitchen. Opening the wooden door with its broken knob, I reached for the broom which suffered from progressive hair-fall. "They should get a divorce. It'll be a favour to all us residents. Honestly."

I heard a low chuckle and just when I began sweeping the floor, dad plucked the broom from my hand. "Let's go for a walk first."

He was already striding towards his bedroom, looking for a clean t-shirt to wear before I could respond. We used to go to long strolls in the better part of the town where people were clad in gym clothes which always looked new and branded shoes with their bright logos. We used to end our walks with two scoops of ice cream each, regardless of the time or weather. We used to come home all sweaty and fight for who would shower first. Used to.

Then dad lost his job and every day was a long, purposive walk for him which ended with futile sweat and never ice cream.

I was cynical about what changed today, but I wasn't complaining. I hurried to my room and discarding my faded pyjamas, I slipped on less faded blue jeans and a white shirt. Dad was patiently waiting in the corridor, his once tight t-shirt now hanging loosely around his broad shoulders.

"Good morning," our neighbour's hoarse voice greeted us before we could wander out. His greying hair revealed flashes of white under the morning sunlight. "Where are you both heading to?"

Some place where nosy neighbours couldn't find us.

"To a walk," my dad said politely. "Settling in Abel?"

"Oh no." Abel bent down to tie his shoelaces. "There's not going to be any settling in. I'm out of this place as soon as I can."

Dad nodded mutely, but I knew what he was thinking. Too ambitious. Too foolish. But Abel made this apartment sound like this was the worst place on earth. Not true. The buildings (if I could even call them that) next street were much worse- every two months a man was found dead, a daughter kidnapped, a child thrown into foster care, a son accused as a perpetrator of horrific crime he probably didn't commit and a mother trying to prostitute herself. And I didn't have to start on the motels beyond that, they were the heart where the blood of the victims flowed.

"We'll go then?" I tugged at my dad's arm.

"See you later," Abel said as cheerfully as he could with his gruff voice. "I'm off jogging."

"Keeps one fit," dad said almost to himself. "See you later." As we advanced ahead, dad muttered, "Estúpido."

"I know right!" I exclaimed, too loud for anyone within a mile to hear.

The next few moments, dad and I were scurrying out of this rotten place, dodging any further pleasantries with our neighbours. Except for Sam. Sam who looked fresh like a tulip awoken with dewdrops in his thrifted bomber jacket, a band t-shirt and skinny jeans. He usually wore that jacket when he had a date.

"A date?" I shouted from the gate since he was on the opposite side of the street. He immediately crossed the road without bothering to look out for rash bikes and cars which disturbed me. "You didn't have to cross."

"Hello uncle," he first addressed dad who gave him a comfortable smile. Then he shoved his thin hands in the pockets of his jacket which suspiciously held what seemed like cigarettes. He better not expose himself in front of my dad who considered him as his own son and wouldn't hesitate to lecture him. "Where are you going?"

"Would have come home from a good walk by now if I wasn't interrupted."

"In my defence, you interrupted my walk," Sam said lightly.

"Fair enough. I was only asking if you were on a date with that girl . . . What was her name again?" I pretended to think, then snapped my fingers. "Ah, Mary!"

"Broke up with her last week." He grinned proudly. "Today on a breakfast date with Josephine."

"Jesus Christ . . . "

"Yeah, he's the only one left to date now," he joked and I sniggered, trying my best to not burst into a fit of girlish giggles. Dad didn't appreciate jokes on God. He stood beside me frowning, disapproving at what our small Sam was becoming. "I should go, can't be late."

"A true gentleman," I mocked him and he gestured like he was tipping a hat.

He left with an impish smile, removing a pack of cigarettes from his pocket before he disappeared out of our vision.

"I'll talk with his father," dad said worriedly, but I knew there was no helping my friend. He would do reckless things to displease his dear mother, but in the end, he had proper goals in his intelligent mind. He would never back down from them because like all of us, he too strongly desired to move out of this hellhole with his father and away from the devil of a mother.

Listening to his stories, I was relieved that I didn't have one in my life.

"His father has enough to worry about," I reasoned out, trying to protect Sam albeit it would end with him dying from lung cancer or addiction or from some sexually contracted disease. Possibilities were endless, but at least he wouldn't die at the rough hands of his mother. "Besides, Sam gets good grades. I'm sure he'll get himself a full-paid scholarship and once he's out of here, he'll ace like he always has done."

"A good child doesn't equal to performing better academically, it's many other things mija."

"Sam is a good kid, perhaps not morally, but he cares. Well, not really of the girls he's dating one after the other, but . . . Okay, I get your point papá." I sighed dramatically in defeat. "Let's not argue, it's been a while that we have come for a morning walk and I don't want to ruin it."

Dad seemed to agree with me because we both fell silent, allowing the peace of a civilised neighbourhood to work its magic on our stressed-out minds. I tactfully avoided looking at the pristine houses with its immaculate lawns because goddamn, they made me want to gouge my eyes out. Instead, I focused my unswerving attention straight ahead where the hard black street met the azure sky and the birds glided effortlessly below the scattered clouds- traversing through each other's paths but not once bumping.

Reminded me of when I was fifteen and spotted Isaac with his friends outside the mall and how I had run in panic to the opposite direction- dragging behind a baffled Allison with me. Then a year later on the street where our local library was situated, I had rushed back to the safety of books to avoid him. After that, he was gone- gone to a college far away and I thought I got rid of him. How smart of me.

"How's your work? Disfrutando?" my dad suddenly asked, attempting to engage me in a conversation. We didn't talk much these past few months, if I were, to be honest, our relationship became strained after he lost his job. He turned quieter out of shame and I would keep blabbering to brighten the melancholic atmosphere. Eventually, I gave up and we both learned to exist, not live. "Did you make any friends?"

"Sí," I lied. I couldn't call my co-workers friends except for Tony which was more of an obligation than free will. Allison wouldn't like if I didn't consider her boyfriend my friend. And I could never tell dad about Isaac, oh, I could never. "Tony helps me out a lot."

We again let silence consume the warm air drifting between us till my dad decided to buy ice cream from the expensive gelato store. I was a couple of steps behind him and had to jog to make him aware of the high prices. I caught his arm and flashing a tight-lipped smile to the staff, I whispered, "We'll buy from Romie's, here it's too costly."

"We can afford an ice cream," he disregarded coldly, removing his wallet. "Two scoops of chocolate uh . . . hazelnut cream. I hope that's fine Mariana."

His tone was clipped and I didn't find his paternal pride to be rational here, but I didn't voice my opinion till his large hands were clutching two wafer cones.

I was given one and as I licked my smooth ice cream, I wondered why on earth this fancy store was open at eight in the morning. "This wasn't necessary papa, it's ridiculously high-priced."

My father took a huge bite of the ice cream, savouring it slowly in his mouth. "Which I can buy for us."

"It's not about if we can or not---"

"We can," he snapped, cutting me off.

"Papá . . . " But he had increased his pace as if his solitary goal was to get away as far as possible from his only daughter. I didn't follow him, I dismally watched him from a distance as he threw the barely finished ice cream in the bin. My own melting ice cream soaked the delicate tissues wrapped around the cone and steadily trickled down my hand and bony elbow. I could hear the faint drops of it splattering down as I completely lost sight of him.