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THIRTY YEARS AGO
AMANDA
“Dad, did you hear me?” I look at him passed out on the sofa of our trailer. He must have gotten trashed again last night. I didn’t hear him come home. It seems to be happening more and more often lately. It used to be one or two nights a week, now it’s five or six. At least he comes home though. My mother split when I was three. I haven’t seen or heard from her since.
I get no response, so I shake his arm again, this time much harder. “Dad!”
His eyes and mouth open. I have to turn my head in disgust. He smells like death. He grumbles, “What?”
“I told you all summer. I need the extra money for the advanced painting class after school. I earned enough money babysitting to pay for half. You said you’d pay for the other half. Today is the deadline.”
He reaches in his jeans pocket and pulls out three crinkled one-dollar bills. “This is all I have to my name.”
“What? Haven’t you been working at the gas station?”
“I got fired two months ago.”
“What do you do all day?”
“A few odd jobs here and there.”
“Where does that money go?”
He starts laughing. “Joe’s Tavern, I guess.”
Oh my god, he’s still drunk.
“What about the painting class? I need five hundred more dollars.”
His face turns sad. “Sorry kiddo. Maybe next year.”
It’s my first year of high school. It wasn’t easy to get into this program. If I don’t start now, they likely won’t take me next year. It was such a big deal for me to get in.
I run out of the trailer in tears and cry for a brief moment until I see a bunch of eyes on me.
I do my daily dodging of drunk, creepy old men as I make my way to the main road to begin my two-mile walk to school.
At some point, I hear a car horn honk and turn around. It’s Reggie and her older brother. Oh thank god. She lowers the passenger window and shouts, “Need a ride, sexy?”
As soon as she sees my tear-soaked face, her eyes widen and she jumps out of the car. She takes me in her arms. “What’s wrong?”
Through my sniffles, I say, “He doesn’t have the money. I can’t take the painting class.”
“What? He promised you months ago he would make it happen.”
“I know. He lost his job and any money he’s made he’s been spending on alcohol. He’s drunk all the time now.”
“He’s such an asshole.”
“He is, but at least he’s here. That’s more than I can say for my mother.”
She nods like she understands, but I know she doesn’t. She has two stable, loving parents and an actual house. She has a brother who looks out for her. She doesn’t have to worry about where her next meal is coming from or whether some old, drunk guy is going to try to touch her as she comes and goes from her home. I would give anything to have her life.
“I’ll get in the back with you. I’ve got something that will help.”
We both slide into the back of the car. I look at her brother, Jared, in the front seat. “Hey, J. Thanks for the ride. I hate walking.”
“No problem, Mandy. We’re always happy to give you rides. Just call.”
