I was working with Henry almost every day now, and I was learning a lot even though he didn’t mean for me to. We went to Bennett Park instead of the library. It was much more private there.
My main job was to compose a piece that went with his documentary. It was half an hour long, so we had a lot of work to do. I had to make sure that everything went perfectly with the emotions he wanted to convey, and he usually changed that so I had to change my part as well. Oh well. Whatever made the old man happy was fine by me.
“That part should be a bit softer, so they can understand that this part is even more important,” he told me one sunny day. I laughed and nodded, starting to play the same part again. My finals were over; I no longer had a care in the world.
At night when I went home I was always in a good mood up until I stepped through my door. However, as soon as I saw my dad, I nearly stopped dead in my tracks, but he was always too drunk to notice. He hadn’t been able to find a good job yet, and I was working a part time job cleaning for an elderly neighbor who new of our situation, spending time with her whenever I could. She paid well for company.
One particularly horrible night, Dad walked up to Mom and said, “You worthless piece of junk. I never should have married you! Start pulling your own weight.”
She shivered and said, “But they will take me away from my home. I won’t be able to come back-”
“That’s ridiculous,” he snapped. “You can still work.”
“Then something could hurt me,” she replied in a small voice. I sighed. Polyphobia. Nothing you could do to help it, really. At least nothing that I knew of.
I sighed and walked over to the fridge, taking out a bottle of wine. Dad would probably down the entire thing, but who cared? At least he would be half unconscious instead of criticizing Mom.
As soon as I had her settled with her favorite movie (Pride and Prejudice. Go figure) and Dad settled with his alcohol, I set out to do my work. I ignored my homework, knowing that I would just get up early in the morning to do that, I walked over to the old woman’s apartment.
“I’m here Mrs. Sylvia!” I called as I unlocked her door. She had given me an extra key so I could come in without her having to get the door every time. She like to keep it locked, just in case.
“Oh, good, Kathryn. You can start with cleaning my kitchen. My son visited earlier, and he gets quite hungry and is too lazy to clean the messes he left behind. You’ll get paid extra, though, since I didn’t make the mess,” the elderly woman called from her room. I smiled at her kindness and started cleaning.
“How did you do in school this year, Kathryn?” she asked as she set her book down and walked slowly to the living room to watch me.
I flinched. “I barely passed Math. One percent lower and I would have had to repeat this year.”
She clicked her tongue at me. “You should study harder.”
I ignored her. Like I had the time.
When I finished cleaning she gestured for me to sit down. I did, gladly. It had taken two hours to clean the entire kitchen and to vacuum the living room.
“How are things outside of school?” she inquired softly. It was almost eight, and she had to go to bed soon.
“Henry and I are almost halfway done with the documentary,” I offered, putting a pillow behind my aching head. I would take a Tylenol as soon as I was able to. “And then after that’s done I’ll be able to come here more often. Well, I will anyway, in the summer.”
Mrs. Sylvia laughed. “Yes, that will be pleasant. Even though I inherited much of my parents’ fortune, I enjoy living here. The town is small and quiet, even though it’s cold, and I have nice neighbors.”
I blushed. “I would rather live in the Cities. St. Paul, though. Or maybe Roseville.”
She nodded. “I liked it when I lived in Roseville, though I prefer Golden Valley.”
Laughing, I replied, “We will have to disagree there, I guess.”
I stayed there half an hour longer. After that, she had to get to bed. I trudged to my apartment, worrying about what I would see when I got there. What I saw wasn’t all that bad. At least, not to me it wasn’t.
Dad was blubbering on the couch, speaking gibberish to the TV. The Twins were losing to the Los Angeles Angels. It was an old game, one that we had recorded. Torii Hunter was in it, and that was the only reason we had recorded it. Brad and I missed the guy. Him and Santana, but Kubel, Mauer, and Morneau weren’t all that bad. Slowey was okay, too.
Mom was nearly passed out in the kitchen. She was muttering things. “They’re not going to let us stay here. We’ll be taken to a town in Antarctica where the tigers will eat us all. Yes, the genetically mutated tigers will destroy us.”
I sighed. “Mom, we’ll be able to pay rent this month. They won’t turn us out. Mr. Puller isn’t that cruel. I just came back from Mrs. Sylvia’s apartment. Mom, I clean for her now. She’s going to pay me and we can pay for rent.”
She continued rocking herself, and I sighed. There was no use. She wasn’t listening to me. She was too deep in her nightmares. Instead, I went over to practice my violin.
I had just gotten the tenth book, and the CD with it. Placing the CD into my player, I sat back on my bed and listened to it, memorizing the notes and the slurs and dynamics and basically everything else before I even glanced at the sheet music.
The phone rang an hour later. I sat up and picked it up. There was one in my room, the living room, and the kitchen. That was it. I didn’t expect my parents to answer it. They were both long gone.
“Hello?” I answered. “This is the Hyland residence.”
“I know, Katie. I used to live there, remember?”
I smiled. “Hi Brad. Anything important? Why are you calling?”
He scoffed into the phone, creating static. “Anything important? How did you do on your finals?”
“Everything was okay,” I replied.
“Except Math,” he guessed.
I signed. “Except Math. I got a D on it, so I didn’t fail the year, but I don’t know how I’m going to be able to pass next year.”
“Next year I’ll be twenty one and I could be your legal guardian. You’ll be able to move in with me.”
“Just so I can pass Math?” I laughed at him. “Math isn’t that important.”
“Yeah, but you’ll need help. Geometry is next year. Everyone struggles with that,” he pointed out.
“I won’t,” I replied stubbornly.
He laughed at me again. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you do fail it.” I stuck my tongue out at him over the phone, knowing he would guess what I was doing in my silence. He chuckled darkly.
“I’ll be up next week. School’s out after tomorrow, right? We’ll stay at Mike’s again.” He said again because he stayed there all summer, and I switched between there, Kayla’s, and home during the three months.
“See you there.”
I hung up the phone, not wanting to talk to him any longer. Instead I picked up my bow and violin and started playing.
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