"You know that person you see who stands to the side at dances or parties? The one you automatically overlook because they're either shy, nervous, or just plain weird? That's me."
With no friends to call her own and a popular, older sister who want...
When their mysterious forms disappeared into the house, my curiosity came plowing through to the forefront of my mind at this new bit of information. Gossip around these parts was common and I knew without a doubt they'd be the talk of the cul-de-sac sooner or later. With those thoughts in my head, I quickly made my way down the street and decided to slip through the back instead of sneaking through the front.
I'd had enough excitement in one night to last me a lifetime. But even then, I had this strange feeling it was only the beginning.
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Early sunlight woke me the next morning. My body ached and I was sure there were dark bags under my eyes from lack of sleep. I tossed and turned all night, unable to get a wink of sleep because my mind kept bringing up images of last night. I was so foolish, so stupid. The way I acted with North and Silas made me feel ridiculous. How could I so easily go with two guys I didn't know? Stupid, Sang. Stupid.
My brows furrowed, and I frowned, shaking my head and the worries that lay dormant at the back of my mind. At least Marie didn't see me, I wearily supplied, officially pushing those worrisome ruminations away. My clothes from last night lay in pieces on the floor, a bleak reminder, but I shook my head again and grabbed them up from the ground, throwing them in the nearby hamper by the door. Crossing the room, I stepped out into the cold hallway and did my business in the bathroom before heading downstairs to see what awaited me.
If I knew anything about my father, it was that he could drink himself so drunk, he'd wake up the next day not knowing what he did or even what day it was. He did it so frequently, I often wondered if he would one day drink himself to death. I decided not to think about it, pushing that depressing thought to the back of my mind.
I heard low snores coming from the living room as I descended the last step, stopping at the entrance to the parlor to see the slumped form of my father with his mouth wide open and his head tipped back. Well, there went my worries at being caught sneaking out last night. There was an empty beer bottle in one hand and a crumpled-up photo in the other as he sat sleeping in his favorite armchair. It was a tattered thing, an ugly brown color with an odd floral pattern on one arm that looked like it'd been stitched there to cover something. I didn't know why he kept that ugly thing but it obviously meant something to him if he absolutely refused to get rid of it.
Adjusting my glasses, I rubbed at my face tiredly as I resisted the urge to sigh at the sight he made; beer bottles and cigarette buds scattered all over the place. Some were still on his lap but there was a single, fizzled out cigarette bud on the table. The bottle in his left hand was about to slip, and it probably would have, if I hadn't dived for it as it was dropping.
Cleaning up was a familiar routine I'd long grown accustomed to; Dad was always like this day in and day out. Some days, he cleaned himself up and he looked like my dad again. But most days he looked like the world had tore him down one too many times and he was finally at the end of his rope, waiting till whatever god up there came for his life.
