May's Story (Part 2)

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I walked through my front door indifferently, passing the living room, and shrugged my bag off my shoulder on the kitchen table. I opened it as I saw my mom sitting at the other end of the table, overdue bills in hand, from the corner of my eye. She looked up behind tired eyes and asked how my day was.

“Eh, it was the same as always,” I said, starting on my homework. My mother quickly started cleaning up the scattered papers and put them away. I know she’d never let me be aware of our financial situation, but I wasn’t ten anymore and I noticed when things like Fruit Loops get replaced with things like ‘Fruity Hoops’, I knew we were desperate. I also knew why; something not even my mother could hide. My disgusting father’s disgusting drinking habits were pushing us to the poor house.

But he was the only one who was working.

We were both stuck with him.

She pulled out a pan, humming a tune, and started cooking me a grilled cheese sandwich. I smiled and thanked her as I started on my homework.

I was near halfway done when my mother gave me the sandwich. Rushing through it and barely paying any attention to my food, I swallowed wrong and started to choke.

My mom ran to aid me, but my dad walked in the house, his crouched posture slugging the rest of his body into the living room. “Stop whining, you brat,” he mumbled, tripping over his own feet but landing on the couch.

I was able to swallow it down, and my dad thought it was my asthma giving me trouble.  “I told you she’s faking it!” He yelled, still face down on the couch.

My mom sighed. “Delightful. Your father’s home, May. Why don’t you go upstairs?” She suggested, keeping her voice low. I looked down, ashamed to deny her request, but stayed where I was.

“Your father’s home, May,” My dad mimicked rudely as he approached the door of the kitchen. “She can stay right here and watch you explain to her that you’re a lying whore!” He screamed, stumbling at the doorway. I could smell the beer for where I was sitting. He rubbed his flushed face with his chubby hand and a drunk smile spread across his face. “You’re like the Superman of whores, super-whore!” He laughed.

“Henry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said in monotone with her back to us both, doing the dishes. She gave up a long time ago in putting any emotion into it, this argument was a daily thing.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about! You cheating cheater whore! I’m the best thing you’ll ever get!”

“Obviously not if she’s cheating on you,” I mumbled under my breath, putting the last paper in my bag, not even bothering to face him.

“What did you say, little girl?” My dad sputtered, shooting a challenging look at me.

I jumped from my chair, swung my bag on my shoulders, and leaned in closer so this time the bastard would hear me. “OBVIOUSLY NOT IF SHE’S CHEATING ON YOU!” I screamed.

“Lauran! What did you teach my daughter?” He screamed at my mom.

“I’m more her daughter than I am yours!” I snapped, getting out of his face.

He cracked a drunk smile, “Ah, but that’s not true, you little idiot. Super-whore over there isn’t even your-”

A dish came flying by his face as my mom screamed, “Watch yourself, Henry!” She looked like she was ready to charge at him, anger slouching her back

“LAURAN!” He screamed. “You’re going to have to pick clean this mess, you bitch!”

She calmed down a little, and turned back to the sink. “Don’t call May names. She’s on top of her class. You would know that if you actually talked to her every now and then.”

He started getting defensive, “I try! She’s just too mean to me.” He sounded like a little kid telling on a bully.

“I don’t let him,” I said, talking to my mother but at my father. “I hate him. He’s a prick.”

He turned to me, “And you’re a whore!” He spat angrily.

I raised my voice, “Don’t you ever call me that again! Didn’t Chris teach you that last time?!”

His hand shot to his eye as if it was going to happen again. “Leave your man-slut out of this,” he mumbled.

“Coming from you!” I screamed, stung from him insulting Chris.

My dad looked up to my mom for help, but she had no interest in helping him.

“Just leave May alone, Henry. She said it herself, she hates you.” Her and I both knew she was going to pay for that, but it was worth it.

I held in a slight giggle as his face started changing its color. I decided to leave it as it was and go to my room. As I started walking away, my mom called to me, “I’m sorry you were put into that, May.”

I heard my dad’s heavy footsteps approach her and darkly mumble, “Shut up, whore.”

“It’s not your fault,” I called from the stairs. I lingered for a moment, hoping maybe the fight will just end there.

“Get your hands off of me, you drunk piece of-” that’s all she could get out before that unmistakable sound of my mother getting hit stopped the sentence short.

“It’s not your fault...” I whispered, putting my hands to block out the noise.

I hurried up the rest of the stairs as more blows and cries rained into my ears.

My room always seemed like a sanctuary. With the door closed, I could hear no evil of the outside, and the light blue and green theme always made me feel at home and safe. My mom says those have been my colors since I was a little girl.

I went under my green pillows and pulled out my parent’s wedding video. My dad threw it away long ago. I’ve always had daddy issues, but it wasn’t until I found it in the tape in the trash when I started hating him. My mother is a good person; she loves me enough to deal with dad, knowing her only options were run from the both of us or stay and be miserable.

The guilt started to ride me, I had to calm down.

I popped the tape in and realized I forgot to rewind it last time I watched it. When I was about it hit the rewind button, another movie recorded on the tape emerged from the fuzz.

It was my mom when she was younger. Her wavy, blond hair, curly and frizzy now, was up to her shoulders. She held a baby, most likely me, and was reading papers.

“So, she’s legally May now, right?” She asked.

My dad’s voice came in over the camera, “Yup, and now we can start our whole lives over.” I forgot what his voice sounded like sober. My heart sank as she smiled lovingly at him. They used to be in love. My heart ached, longing to go back in time.

Then the tape stopped.

I turned around to see my father with the remote.

“I-I threw that tape away,” He stuttered, still panting and red-faced from what he was doing downstairs.

“Get out of my room,” I said coldly, not even looking over my shoulder to face him.

“What did you see?” He demanded.

“None of your business. GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” I screamed, jumping up and pointing to the door, just in case his drunken ass couldn’t figure out where that is.

He went for the player but I grabbed the tape before him.

I cursed at him and completely lost it.

“THIS IS YOUR WEDDING VIDEO!!! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT IT NOT THROW IT AWAY!” I screamed, bright faced.

“I’D THROW AWAY THIS WHOLE FAMILY IF I COULD!” He hollered right back.

Right then, something rose from the depths of the coldness I felt for my father. “Drop dead.”

Before I could even breathe in, the back of his hand made fast, sharp, and hard contact with my face.

Ouch. I’ve never been hit like that before.

I stared up at him from the floor, hatred seething from my eyes, hoping he caught what I was pitching. My cheek screamed painfully, bright pink.

He took a second to realize what he had done, staring down at his daughter that he had just struck. “Look what you made me-” he started to try to scramble an excuse together, but stopped himself, a little shook up. Without saying another word, and, of course, without apologizing, my father turned and left, trudging heavily down the stairs.

I leaned over and grabbed the video, gripping it tight to my chest, holding on strong and steadying my breath.

I looked out my window, hoping Caitlyn wasn’t sitting on her roof waiting for me, but I was dumb to even wonder. She was there, completely poker-faced.

We live in house apartments, the really nice type, too. Our roofs are connected and we can slip in and out of each other’s windows at any point we want. Normally, though, we just sit on our roof, and sometimes Chris, who lives across the road from us, joins us.

I climbed out my window, the bright sun warmed my skin instantly. “How much did you-”

“All of it,” she said, struggling to keep her eyes away from my still pained cheek. Her words were cold, as if she was trying to cap any emotion.

I wanted to act like my dad didn’t just hit me, as if that just never happened. “My dad knows not to go in my room. He knows how much I hate him,” I scowled. “I can’t wait till I’m old enough to get a restraining order!” I grunted angrily yet not exactly paying attention to the conversation.

“Can you do that?” She said, respecting that I didn’t want to talk about it and resting her elbows on her raised knees and her head on her arms.

“What?”

“Get a restraining order against your own family? I’d LOVE one against my brother!” She smirked, trying to brighten the conversation.

“I don’t know,” I replied, thinking about the random laws I would research on the computer when I had nothing better to do.

“Hey you’re the one who wants to be a lawyer!” She exclaimed. “You should know this stuff!”

I smiled, my cheek didn’t burn as much. “Just because I am super smart and hot and funny and perfect does not mean-”

“Yeah? Whatever,” She laughed.

I changed the subject, still smiling, “You going to the dance?”

“Yeah.”

“You want to go with me again?” I bent my legs behind me.

She smiled wildly, gloating a bit. “Nope,” she said brusquely. “I have a date this time,” she said this as if the Pope asked her himself.

“Let me guess. Josh?” I gushed.

She started blushing, smiling pathetically.

“Well,” I looked over at Chris’s house, wondering about how doing something so intimate with my best friend might go. “there’s always Chris,” I finished, lost in my gaze.

She followed where I was looking and laughed. “You love him!”

My gaze broke sharply. “No.”

She playfully slapped my leg.

“Owe!” I called out, hitting her in the shoulder lightly.

“Why won’t you go out with him?”

I smirked as I saw him look out the window and see us. He smirked back, nodding his head at me slightly, and closed the curtains. His smile left my face feeling as if the sun had warmed it perfectly, all abuse of it forgotten.

I turned my head to Caitlyn, letting any warmth leave my face, hoping to look dead serious. “We’re not like that.” I cringed slightly at the fact I was telling myself more than I was telling her.

“You’re such a babe,” She said, rolling her eyes as Chris come out of his house. He had his boxers a bit higher than his jeans and no shirt.

He so just dressed up to hang out with me. I smiled at the thought, and then laughed about it. Loser. I sighed. My loser.

“Can I come up and join you ladies?” He called, holding two cups.

“Come on up, buttercup,” I called, smiling pleasantly.

My mom was so used to Chris that he could walk in, without knocking, and be like, “Hi, mom!” and she’d smile and talk with him like they were best friends or something. It’s kind of weird, but at the same time, I love it.

He hates my dad more than anyone. The one time when he first stood up to my dad, not too long ago, Chris and I were watching T.V. on the couch. He stumbled in, drunk. He started yelling about Chris, saying that he and I were having sex every night and stupid stuff like that. Chris would calmly explain that we were just good friends and nothing more after each drunken rant, but my dad would just repeat the previous statements.

My mom was shopping at the time, so no one could come to my rescue when my dad started calling me names, or so I thought. My dad picked up on it, calling me a little, whiney bitch and a mistake. But once my dad called me a whore, Chris jumped up from the couch and punched my dad in the face. That was the first time I’ve ever seen my dad get hit.

“That’s not the way you speak to a lady,” he spat.

Chris started packing up to leave early but I begged him not to go. He didn’t leave, especially when my dad pulled out more whiskey and started pouring himself shots, drinking away the fact a 15 year old just kicked his ass.

I followed him with my eyes as he easily swaggered his way into my house. I let out my breath, realizing I was holding it. Caitlyn noticed and laughed at me.

“Caitlyn… Don’t tell Chris what happened.”

She just looked at me, her face blank. I knew what that meant.

“He might hurt my dad, please don’t. I don’t want any more to come of this.”

She ignored me. “Just date him.”

“Caitlyn, I already said we’re not like that,” I said sternly.

“Like what, May? Because I’ll tell you what you’re like.” She said while dropping her legs in front of her in sudden interest of her own rant.

“Caitlyn, no-“ I started, but she interrupted me.

“What you and Chris are like, is two total idiots who are completely head over heels for each other, and both of them are too stupid to confess their undying love for the other! Everyone knows it, too! When was the last time you had a boyfriend?”

“Caitlyn, I-”

“Four years ago. The same time Chris last had a girlfriend. Do you remember how that happened, May?”

“Cait-”

“Do you?!”

I sighed, feeling defeated. “Yes, I do.”

“He got a new girlfriend and how did you feel, May?”

“Like shit.”

“Like shit!” She repeated. “Then, you went and got yourself a boyfriend. How did Chris feel?”

“I didn’t think he cared-”

“Bullshit! He felt as lame as you did, that’s why he left his girlfriend, isn’t it?”

“I-”

“Isn’t it?!”

“Yes.”

“And you left your boyfriend not even an hour after. And neither of you has even been on a date since! C’mon, May, you can’t be serious about not having these feelings for him! Who are you trying to fool?”

“Sounds a lot like you and Josh, don’t it?” I challenged her, quickly getting off the hot seat. She blushed and Chris’s deep voice danced in my ear.

“Hey, guys!” Chris chimed as he walked along the bridge, holding two cups of soda. He knows grape’s my favorite, and even cuter, it was in a green and blue cup. He gave Caitlyn the other one and sat down next to me, holding out his cup, showing me his intentions the whole time was to share with me.

“So… watcha’ been talkin’ bout?” He asked, pitching conversation, as I sipped the Slushie from his hand.

“Chris,” Caitlyn’s voice got serious and my stomach dropped. She had successfully distracted me from keeping her to say exactly this, “May’s father hit her,” Caitlyn blurted out against my wishes. I spit up the Slushie a little and starting coughing, giving them the perfect opportunity to keep on this without my objection.

His face pained, as if it was him who got hit. “What?” there was a growl in his voice that sounded dark, scary, and sexy all at the same time. “When?”

“Just now.” She dished. “I wanted to do something, but I couldn’t, I’m not a good friend..” She said trailing off, guilt obviously riding her hard.

I wanted to say I was mad at her for telling him, but I can’t say that I wouldn’t have told Josh if it was her that got hurt, and the guilt in her face shot anger-numbing bullets up my spine.

Anger clouded his face, his normally electric blue eyes greyed over and his jaw moved as he grinded his teeth. I had quieted my coughing, but his expression left me with nothing to say, anyways. He thought hard, but then some emotion that almost looked like embarrassment and compassion took over and his face became soft and human again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should have been there.”

“Chris, you couldn’t have-”

“May, don’t make excuses for me. I should have been there for you.” He gently grabbed my chin, moving my head from side to side as he examined both cheeks. “Are you okay?”

I nodded quickly, pulling out of his grasp, and changed the subject the minute I could.

“So! It looks like Caitlyn won’t go to the dance with me,” I said, shifting my straw and avoiding his eyes.

Caitlyn jumped at the first chance to help hook us up. “Whatever will she do?” Caitlyn said, queuing Chris.

“Well is there any chance she’d want to go with me?” Chris asked Caitlyn.

“I think she’d love that,” Caitlyn answered for me. I held back a blush and hid behind my cup.

We continued to talk until it got dark, but I would be stupid to have not seen the ‘this-isn’t-over’ looks Chris was giving me.



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