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CHAPTER 1
We were just sitting there, at the end of the dock looking at the sun starting to play a little game of hide and seek with the moon. A girl and her dog looking at one of the last beautiful things on this earth. The water swirled at my toes, ruining the almost impossibly calm deposition of the waves. The sun finally found its hiding spot from the moon electing to hide just below the horizon line. Lois surprised me with one of her signature wet slobbery kisses for the first time in a little under two and a half minutes, her tail wagging furiously. She plopped down right on my lap choosing to rest her chin on my chest.
"Come on Lois, we gotta go in otherwise Pops might get mad."
Moping, she took her head off of my chest and looked over my shoulder back at the back at the beachfront with sadness in her eyes, she spared one glance at me with an accusing stare. She looked back at the beachfront, squinting into the darkening tree line.
'Oh Lois, be sensible, there is always tomorrow!"
Lois seemed to brighten up at the thought of tomorrow and a new day and a new chance to do something great. She finished her moping, and thank the heavens for that! I was starting to suffocate from how heavy Lois is. She trotted behind me out of my line of sight.
"Woof… woof, woof!"
"What are you barking at?"
She sounded like there was something terrible behind me. My heart dropped as the thought of Pops standing, no, barely standing behind me, with the smell of alcohol and tobacco radiating off of him like smoke from a fire. He was barely able to keep two feet on the dock, with a bottle of whiskey hanging from one hand and a cigarette ¾'s of the way smoked. And of course, me not being able to stand the smell of his breath! If I closed my eyes, I could imagine myself being at the bar since he smelled so much like Old Cullys Bar & Tavern. On good days, Pops would be at the bar three hours, at best two. He was a drunk there was no denying that, even Pops admits that when he's sober. The only constants in this world are Pops drinking habits and Mamas child support checks.
I haven't seen Mama in what, four years? Maybe five, I don't even bother to count anymore. I wish I was with her so that I wouldn't have to worry about Pops so much. Honestly I don't know the first thing about her. I don't know where she is, what's going on in her life, or really anything. I wish she would reach out so I could have somebody who kind of understands my pain. The only thing I remember about her is her eyes. Those eyes were real. She wants no part in my life anymore, I wish she did.
While I was fantasizing about having a normal family, Lois took my daydreaming in stride and plopped back down on my lap.
"Sorry Lois, but we gotta go inside."
She jumped up as though she was expecting it and trotted over to something behind my back. I stood up and turned my back on the sky and the sea in one beautiful harmony. I looked over to see what Lois had in her mouth. It was a stick. I wasn't surprised. She walked over to me and dropped it right on my toe. I flinched and expected someone to hit me, it never happened. I immediately regretted doing that and cursed that stupid instinct. I picked up the stick and threw it as far as I could (which wasn't that far). Lois took a running start and yeeted herself into the lake. With no remorse, she swam to where the stick was in five seconds, tops. She disappeared underwater and my heart stopped at the thought of Lois dying because I threw a stick. It froze my happy heart, but then again even on the brightest of days, Pops could ruin it with his drinking habits. I blame myself for all our family's problems.
Lois popped up on the other side of the dock and did one of her signature cray-cray shakes and soaked me up to my thighs, barely touching my shorts. Lois trotted up ahead of me making the dock slippery and wet. I slowed my pace just to be safe. I don't want to fall and crack my head open, things are already strained enough without a couple thousand dollar medical bill. And if I want to eat this month, I can't get hurt. I watched where I stepped, making sure I kept my feet in check so I wouldn't fall.
I sighed as I thought that this might be one of the last quiet moments today. I was at the front door. More like the front steps. They were in such disrepair that the second and third stair were broken. I mean like if you wanted to fall into quicksand and die of suffocation. With nobody finding you for decades, and the only reason your bones were found was because a big beachfront hotel was getting built where you used to live. Be my guest, I don't plan on dying today. As I walked up to the door I ripped off the note that I left for Pops. I guess he took the bathroom window to get in the house. Lately he has been fantasizing that he was secretly living in our house and he can't enter through any doors. If somebody else was living in this house we wouldn't last 2 seconds. From the way that he yells to the way that he staggers throughout the house stomping and throwing all of his empty whiskey bottles on the floor.
"MELANIE JANE WHERE THE H**L ARE YOU???"
Well today really isn't my day, I should have taken the quicksand way out.
"Coming, Pops!" I shouted, trying to keep my voice level.
When I walk through the disheveled living room to the kitchen I realize that today really isn't my day. Pops was drunker than a skunk times one hundred. I wondered what caused him to drink this much. The only reason he was standing up was because of the counter, I wish somebody would help me deal with this trainwreck.
"Now," he burped, "little girl," he said pointing his finger at me "where were you for the past fifteen seconds?" he puffed on his cigarette .
"Pops, I left a note on the front door."
" I thought you knew that the other family that lives here will see us if we use the front door!" he leaned in trying so hard to whisper but failing spectacularly. "Dumb kid," he said under his breath as he leaned back. He stumbled, falling backward, because he leaned back too far. He really needs to get his bearings in life, jeez.
"I… am going to take a.." he burped " nap" he burped (again?).
Then without warning, he falls forward falling asleep before he even touches the ground. I took the half empty bottle of whiskey out of his hands and put the cap on and placed it in the whiskey cabinet. I know that most families only have maybe one or even two bottles of whiskey but since my father is a drunk, we have five. I drag the cigarette out of Pops' hand and put it out using the barely running faucet. I put his trash blanket over him, and walked to my bedroom slowly taking in the sight of our house that's in disrepair. I try to clean it but when I hit the pillow, Pops always makes it messy again. I wish I would just have a father that wasn't a drunk and loved our family. What happens now, I'm lost, the only people that I love live miles away or just don't want to be in my life anymore. How come all of the other teens get a normal life without having to worry about money or where our next meal is coming from, but I do. I have to worry about pops using all of the money on alcohol or spending it all at the bar.