8.

 

I’m home…schools finally over. My dad is home again. He looks so little and useless…he is moping around, watching Wheel of Fortune. The only nice thing was that he has gone to the grocery store; at least we have some food. I am wondering about money though…it has never been a big problem before. But if he has been out of work for 6 months, well that can’t be good… so I decide to sit down and ask him about what all was going on.

            I sit next to him on the sofa, watching the game show. I seriously don’t know what is wrong with the host of that show…he is bright orange. He looks like an Oompa Loompa, those little midget things from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I used to be deathly afraid of those things. They were really freaky, and they sort of reminded me of clowns, except they weren’t exactly. I always checked under my bed at night for those things. I was sure one was going to shove an Everlasting Gobstopper down my throat and choke me to my death in the middle of the night. But that’s when I was little.

            I clear my throat a little, and ask in my smallest voice, “Dad…have you been looking for a job?” He looks over at me. I realize right there I have hit a soft spot.  His eyes are blazing.

“You don’t think I’ve been looking for a job, Jill? You think I’ve just been sitting here looking around? Yeah, I looked. I looked, and there isn’t anything out there, okay? I don’t know what I’m gonna do. You think I’m some jobless bum?” He clenches his jaw as he stands up from the couch.

 “No, Dad. I didn’t say that…” I’m trying to backpedal from whatever I did wrong. “I was just wondering…you know, about money. If you need me to, I can get a job…” I offer, trying to make what I did wrong seem innocent.

 “We don’t need money!” His face is starting to get really red. I look down, embarrassed, and notice an empty vodka bottle on the floor. Oh, no. He’s drunk. I shouldn’t have said anything. What was I thinking? Leave. So, I start backing away. “Where do you think you are going?” He is obviously drunk; I don’t know why I didn’t notice that before. His words are slurring, he looks confused and unbalanced.

 “No, Dad. I just meant…” This is bad. Something is going to happen. My Dad isn’t bad. He has just been weird lately. With all the drinking, and getting angry, I mean.  “I was just making sure you didn’t need help!” I try to defend myself.

“We don’t need any money, we don’t have any problems, I could never work again…after the insurance money we got!” Dad yells. A second after he said that, he looked like he had been slapped, and his face cracked, and a million pieces of anger shattered into distress and sheer pain. A tear brushed his cheek. “I miss her, Jill! And you miss her, too. I know you do! Stop acting like she doesn’t exist!”

            I am so confused. What is he talking about? Is he really that drunk? Who is gone? And what insurance money? This all sounds like gibberish to me. I decide he is just drunk, and confused.

“It’s okay...Dad…nobody is gone…it’s okay…nothing ever happened. How about you just take a nap, I can get you some Tylenol…” I try to be gentle with my offer, I know he’s upset. I don’t know about what though.

“THAT is what I’m talking about! Do you not miss her? How much of cold-hearted girl can you get? Everyone’s gone, Jill. Everyone. Why don’t you care?” I am hoping this is the drinking talking.

“Dad, seriously. Just, calm down…” I plead.

“NO!”

I see his angry face coming towards me…his thick eyebrows drawn together in despair, his mouth drawn down in sadness, his eyes blindly flashing with anger.

            He takes a step forward at me; I am still backing away from him.

 “I HATE YOU!” He screams at me, his face two inches away. “DO YOU HEAR ME? I HATE YOU! YOU WERE NEVER GOOD ENOUGH! NEVER.”