Mixtape of My Life

Vol 1. Track 1: Rosalie - Thin Lizzy

Everyone has something in their life that makes them unique. Some more than others. I don't mean to brag when I say this, but I've lived a somewhat extraordinary life. Again, not trying to brag. I'd give my left arm to be raised by two doting parents, a car salesman dad and homemaker mom, in a small suburban town in the Midwest. Instead, I've got a dad who, while doting, is a recovering alcoholic with two ex-wives and one current one. His second ex-wife, Jenni-Anne, is currently suing him for alimony, and Maria, his first ex, is still a very current part of his life and hates me. My current stepmom, Chloe, is only just ten years older than me, and she still jumps around the house in high heels like a sorority girl.

My mom died giving birth to me, like many a tragic Shakespearean heroine or a Disney princess. But that's a story for another time. The critical information to convey to you right now is that life sucks.

Last year, my dad went to the doctor and came out as a dying man. Turns out, all those years of partying, the drugs and the orgies, and especially the alcohol, affects you. Cirrhosis of the liver, which is slowly killing his insides. The doctor suggested a treatment centre outside of LA, anything to get him away from the temptations of the so-called 'City of Angels'. So, we moved here, to Covington, Colorado, and I had to start my sophomore year for the second time, just after Christmas.

Now it's the start of my junior year, and Dad's finally allowed out, after two relapses. Which means Maria has moved back with us, to keep an eye on him and to help with the investments, while Chloe nurses him to – well, a better state of health then he was before. This also means that Joplin and Hendrix, my half-brothers from Chloe, are going to be running around the house high on sugar, as per usual, and it will be my job to take care of them, so they don't disturb Dad. Not like they've got a mom or anything.

Of course, I'm happy my Dad's back, and finally on the road to recovery. He's the only person I feel like I've ever connected with, except maybe Lennon, my older half-brother from Maria. Lennon's at college now, though, and won't be coming back during the holiday's since he fell out with Maria when he told her he was bisexual. I visited him for a week during the summer, in New York, which is every bit as amazing as the media says it is. He stopped by the treatment centre a few times to see Dad when Maria was off having meetings or whatever. Still, no Thanksgiving, no Christmas. We can't go away anywhere because Dad's not well enough, so it will be one long, boring year till next summer.

I feel like I'm complaining too much, which I am, but it's how I feel. I can't say these things to anyone else, no one would understand. Also, I don't have anyone else.

"Presley!"

Maria is shouting my name, which probably means its time for a family meeting of some sort. Ugh. I put my books away and head downstairs, where Dad is sitting at the head of the table in the dining room. Our very modern house is open plan, so while I can see him there, I can also see the boys running around the living area, Chloe in the kitchen, which is a worry; and Maria at the door. The dining room looks out onto the lake, and I have a sudden urge to run outside and jump in. When I'm having a bad day, I like to go out there and do laps, to free my mind. Then I sit on the deck and stare at the mountains. It sounds silly, but the landscape is like a Bob Ross painting, with snow-topped peaks and forests of conifers.

"What's up, Lalena?" Dad asks me, gesturing to the seat next to him. I sit down and rest my head on his outplaced hands. Lalena is his nickname for me, named after a song from the first singer I truly learned to love, Donovan. "Everything sucks," I tell him.

"Is this about school starting tomorrow? Because trust me, I know. Why else do you think I quit school at fifteen and started a band?"

"To get girls?"