I should have crammed my stuff into my backpack, but it’s already ripping at the seams.
Life didn’t use to be this way.
Hard.
Unbearable.
My dad always had a job. He worked in the coal mines until they went bankrupt. When he couldn’t get a new job, he turned to the bottle. The drink made him mean, and him and Momma would fight. He’d knock her around, and she’d call him ugly names.
She’d say mean things like my little brother wasn’t his kid.
That she wished they’d never met.
She wished my existence away.
They’d fight and make up.
Then fight some more.
Momma would lie in bed and cry, and I would stroke her hair to soothe her. I hated when Momma cried.
She tried so hard to make things better, but her idea of making things work was like putting a bandage on an amputated limb. One day I came home from school, and she was sitting at the kitchen table of our double-wide eating chocolate cake straight from the container with my little brother, Jacob. She had gotten a job at a bar downtown. Was celebrating her first paycheck.
Some of the light in her eyes had returned.
I foolishly thought this meant things would be better.
Daddy didn’t look so happy as he sat in his recliner drinking his beer.
Momma didn’t let me have any cake. Said I shoulda ate at school.
I did, but I wanted cake.
She always loved Jacob more than me.
Momma would work all hours of the night. She’d be going to bed as I’d be going to school. Eventually she came home less often until one day she didn’t come home at all. One day all her and my brother’s things were gone. She had left us, but more importantly, she had left me. No goodbye. There was no note saying, ‘I will be back for you soon, Hope.’
I don’t know what I did wrong. I tried so hard to be a good girl. I made good grades and never got into trouble. I never raised my voice. Why didn’t Momma want me? Why wasn’t I good enough?
Daddy just sat in his chair and drank some more. Eventually, all our utilities were shut off without Momma paying the bills. Then we were evicted and moved in with one of Daddy’s friends. That didn’t last long when he caught Daddy in bed with his wife.
After that, we slept in the car. Every day I woke up somewhere new until we found ourselves here in the city that never sleeps.
I follow my dad down the alley, foolishly believing he is taking me to get food.
All my optimism is dashed when I see him pulling out the last of our money for a little yellow rock. Tears burn at the corners of my eyes as I bite my lip, tasting the metallic flavor of my blood as my teeth cut through the chapped skin.
I worked for that money. Picking pockets. Begging. I earned it and he just takes and takes and never gives.
We’re supposed to be saving for a place to stay. To eat.
I can’t remember the last time I showered.
The last time I slept in an actual bed in a room with four walls.
I want to hit him. I want to take that stupid rock and toss it into the burning barrel nearby. I don’t do that though. I stare at the flames as the heat licks my face, wishing I could float awayjust like the ashes from the burning newspapers as they float into the winter air. Burning embers slowly fading to nothing. I wish I could disappear too. A tear slides down my cheek as my dad sinks down to the ground and him and Charlie share that stupid rock.
They melt it on a spoon with a lighter.
