sharkbait \\ h.s

16

When we pull up to my house, I get off the bike as Harry tells me he can't stay.

"Why not?" I ask.

"I don't think I should be here for this," he says, referring to me and my father's business. "I have work in the morning, anyways. Sleep is important."

Harry reaches his hand up to my face and wipes my cheek with his thumb. I hadn't noticed I was crying. "I'm sorry," I say, pulling my face away from his touch.

"For what?"

"Crying. All the time."

A small smile creeps onto his face. "Don't be sorry. I like it when you cry."

I giggle. "Gee, thanks."

His cheeks redden. "No! I didn't... I mean, like, I like being able to be there for you like that. It makes me feel better that I can make you feel better."

"And who says you make me feel better?"

"You did." I look at him, confused. "He's always there to make everything better," he says, quoting the words from my blog. "He's the ultimate prescription drug."

I begin to walk away.

"Cali! Wait," Harry calls from behind me. "Was it something I said?"

"Good night, Harry!"

I'm already opening the door when I hear him calling again. "Good night my beautiful, wonderful, delightful girlfri--" The door is shut before I hear the end. I love to hear him call me his girlfriend so proudly, but I just feel awkward in that I couldn't call him boyfriend without vomiting... in a good way. My dad needs me anyways; I don't have time to sit outside and make googley-eyes at my... good vomit.

My dad is sitting calmly on the couch when I walk in. It wasn't what I expected to see, if I'm honest. Part of me thought I'd walk in to see my dad spread across the carpet, bleeding or barfing or broken or something, but I didn't think I'd come home and see him so relaxed.

"California," he says. His eyes are bloodshot.

"Dad."

He sighs. "It's your mom."

After he says it, I immediately regret coming home. Suddenly, my head hurts and the room feels like it's spinning. My mother is the last person I'd expect to see my dad worrying about, after everything that's happened. When I try to say something, I end up choking on my words and running to my bedroom instead like a little girl.

--

When I was ten, my dad took me to Disneyland for the first time. Before then, he'd always told me that we could never afford to spend money on such immature and inaccurate ideas of fun. I begged and begged and all he did was say no. Until one day, he was acting really weird and out of place.

He came into my room that day, announcing that he was going to take me to the happiest place on Earth.

We spent all day on rides, even though he hated them, and ate over priced food. It was the best day of my life.

When we arrived at the hotel that night, he sat me down telling me that he had something he needed me to know. He proceeded to inform me about what my mother-- where she went and what she'd done. I remember crying all day and everyday after that until I realized crying wouldn't bring her to me.

Memories of delicious, expensive food and breathtaking rides had become clouded by images of a mother I've never had and memories I'd never make with her.

Nine years later, I'm stood in the middle of my bedroom with wet cheeks pondering over news I never thought I hear.

There's a light knock at my bedroom door. "Cali?" My dad says so softly that it's almost inaudible.

"Don't," I try to tell him as loud as I can, but only end up sounding just as quiet as he did, my voice cracky.

"We have to talk, honey," he says. "Please."

"I don't want to talk about her."

"You don't have to. I'll talk. You listen."

I walk to my door and turn the knob, pulling it open to reveal my dad with his head down, his hand in his hair and his nub almost in his pant pocket.

I sigh. "Okay."

My dad walks in slowly and I shut the door behind him. He doesn't sit down.

"Don't be upset with me, Cali." There's something in his voice that I can't quite decipher, but it almost sounds like fear. "We're in this together." I nod to him, urging him to get on with it. "I went to see her. That's why I went to Folsom. I didn't mean to stay that long, but when she told me--"

My blood boils. "You went to see her?" I ask in disbelief. "You saw her in prison and didn't even tell me about it? How could you do that?"

"I didn't think you'd want to know."

"Are you forgetting who she is, dad? Do you remember what she did?"

"I do."

I want to cry over how nonchalant he's being about all of this, but I'm too angry and I'm tired of crying over everything.

In the calmest voice I can muster, I say, "What did she tell you?"

My dad stares at me. "This was a bad idea..."

"What the hell did she tell you?"

"She's being executed, Cali."

Part of me doesn't know how to react when he says it. As horrible as it is, I almost feel happy that this is the news I'm receiving. I thought he was going to tell me she was coming back. That she was released on good behavior or something. I'm glad she wasn't.

"Good," I say, cooly.

"Why is that good?"

I almost laugh. "She was a child molester, dad. She's a disgusting piece of shit."

"Don't talk about your mom like that."

Now I really laugh. A whole-hearted, real laugh. "She's hardly my mom. She gave birth to me while she was in prison and named me after the state we live in. I'm sure that's where I get my creative side. She's never even met me."

My dad sways back and forth on his feet, sighing small sighs every time he comes forward. "She wants you to be there."

I choke. "What?"

"She wants you to be there when she... you know... I told her I'd get you to try."

"I'm not going to have the first time I see my mother in my entire life be through a piece of glass while she's getting drugs pumped through her veins and killing her. No way."

"Cali--"

"No. I won't do it, okay? I'm going to see if I can go back to Harry's. I'm sorry."

Even after everything that just took place, he looks at me with a smirk on his face. "You and Harry are a thing now?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Fucking finally."

We laugh together as we leave my bedroom.

--

omg that was long

vote/comment pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee ily :)

~mel x