by Bry Foster
I finish packing and just before I start to change again a knock pounds on my door. My phone dings at the same time and I open the text message.
UNKNOWN: I told you, you would regret embarrassing my family.
I frown. What the hell? I pad my way, barefoot to the door and pull it open. I find the kind, concerned eyes of Mr. Gable, our landlord. “Yes?” I ask him wearily watching the bright red paper he has in his hands. A frown on his face as he passes the paper to me. My heart drops into my feet as I read: EVICTION NOTICE in bold script across the top.
“Mr. Gable, how…?” He lifts a shoulder.
“Sorry kid. No rent in two months. I need you out of here.”
“Two months? But my dad has been working.”
“Well he hasn’t been bringing any of the money here, kid. Sorry to do this to you. But I can’t afford another month of not having any rent. You have 24 hours to vacate.” I look from him to the paper. I have never felt more humiliated than I do in this moment. I nod. I close the door softly and then put my back to it as I slide down the wall. I’m not sure if I’m more hurt or angry as hot tears skip down my cheeks and splash on my legs and arms.
I groan in frustration and then look around the apartment. Not much is worth saving; still I only have a day to get all of this stuff out of here. First, I need to find my father. I pull on my shoes as questions flittered through my head. Did he lie about work? Are he and his girlfriend blowing through his check on nonsense like liquor and drugs? Did something happen to him that would prevent him from being able to pay the rent?
I start my search back down at Freddy’s. Dawn is out front smoking a cigarette with some biker dude. Before Dawn can say anything to me, the gruff guy next to him says, “Hey baby? You wanna ride on my motor cycle?” I shoot him a glare that only makes his lips kick up revealing he is missing two front teeth. I guess this guy has seen his fair share of fights.
“No thanks.” I look to Dawn. “Is he here?”
“You lookin’ for your cheatin’ man or somethin’? I can treat you way better, baby.”
“Can it.” I tell him with a glare before looking at a smirking Dawn again.
“I don’t think he’s in there, but, he’s here so often I might have just skipped over him.” He replies. I nod and start to go into the building when the biker grabs my arm. I yank away from him and give him a withering glare.
“Hey there. You ain’t even gonna give me a chance?”
“I have much better things to worry about than some toothless jerk-wad trying to get one off, now if you’ll excuse me.” I storm in to the bar looking around for my father, not paying much attention to the laughter coming from Dawn behind me. I start my search in his spot. When that does not turn up any results I check behind the bar for his nosey girlfriend. No one in here looks nice enough for me to bother so after knocking on the men’s bathroom—with my foot because the smell coming from there is passed disgusting—and get no response from calling his name, I head back out front to see Dawn.
“Pat didn’t work today?” I ask Dawn. He shakes his head.
“She is supposed to be here any time now. You can hang out, out here if you want.” I shake my head.
“No, that’s okay. I think I will just swing by if I don’t find him at work.” I pull my light hood over my head and step back out in the rain headed for my dad’s store. When I get there I’m drenched and I grow more angry with every step that I take. I push the glass door open and a bell chimes alerting everyone that someone is entering.
Three men sit around in various positions. One, with his feet kicked up on the dirty furniture of the waiting area. Another behind the register, and one more that just came in from the garage, wiping his hands, black with oil on a dingy rag. They all look at me at the same time.
“What kind of service you lookin’ for ma’am?” The one on the couch asks. I shake my head.
“I’m looking for my dad. Darrel, Darrel Hudson?” Three frowns greet me. Well, this certainly doesn’t look good.
“Darrel hasn’t worked here for just over a month.” The one at the register answers me. My mouth drops open as my heart hammers angrily in my chest.
“Are you sure? He’s been coming to get his work clothes from the house…” I trail off. Was that what he was coming to get? I saw him leaving with clothes but they were not specifically his work uniforms. I feel like pounding my head against the hot asphalt ground. I can’t believe I did not see this coming. I put a hand to my forehead. As I continue to think over all of this. Then something hits me and I ask, “Was he not injured here about a month ago?”
They all glance at each other before the one on the couch gets up and walks towards the register. “He was injured alright. Came in here drunk as a skunk and damn near crushed his foot under the tire of a car that he hadn’t jacked properly.” My mouth probably looks like some kind of fly trap. I can’t believe that he would do such an idiotic thing. On second hand, maybe I could. This isn’t the first time my father has went to work under the influence. Though, usually it’s because he didn’t sleep it off the night before. The fact that he came to work so wasted that he hurt himself baffles me as much as it exasperates me.
I look up to find the three men watching me closely, expressions ranging from contrite to perplexing. I put up a hand and try to fix my face to give them a thankful smile but I can’t manage it. “Thank you so much for all of your help.” I mumble. They hear me in the quiet room and nod. I turn to leave and head to Pat’s when my phone rings. It’s Liz.
“Hello?”
“Khloe, are you home?” She sounds frantic.
“No. What’s wrong?” I ask as my stomach sinks. My heart starts to thump heavily against my ribs and my chest tightens at the sound of her voice. She sounds terrified.
“The news!” She huffs and I hear her moving around frantically. “Your dad is on the news!”
“What? Why?” I ask her then look at the men in the shop. “Do you have a remote for that TV?” The one behind the counter nods and brings it to me. I point the remote at the TV in the corner of the room and switch it to the channel Liz tells me. The program is coming back from a commercial break.
“Hi, you’re back with Angela Tine and I’m reporting on the celebrity news to date. If you’re just tuning in, you’ll be upset to know that we have new information about the hottest new couple in our little town. Apparently they aren’t all that hot, well at least not Miss Khloe Hudson, whose father we just learned suffers heavily from an alcohol addiction. Earlier today our cameras caught up with him at his favorite bar for an interview.” She flips to a screen of cameras hounding my dad. His eyes are blood shot. He looks scruffy and unkempt, which I’m used to.
“Get out of my face damn it!” He yells.
“Mr. Hudson, is it true that your daughter forces you to live in a poverty stricken side of town while she parties with the rich and famous?”
“Mr. Hudson, did you just have a recent hospital stay?”
“Are you an alcoholic?”
“Did she really refuse to take care of you when you left? We learned your prescription was never filled!”
“This is what they call an interview?” I shout in the small space. I don’t look at the men that must think I’m some spoiled monster that gave up on my father at the first opportunity. This is so utterly humiliating.
“I don’t know.” Liz starts. “I’m just glad you aren’t home.” She pauses as the reporter comes back on screen.
“It’s horrible that Khloe Hudson is abandoning what we are learning is the only family she has. Sources close to her say that her mother left when she was a child and her father has been the sole caretaker of her ever since. It looks like her recent antics have driven him to drink. We have reporters that just arrived to her home now to get an up close look and hopefully an exclusive with America’s worst daughter.” The camera shifts again only this time instead of them harassing my dad they are outside my apartment complex. Where they catch an in
progress break in. The camera quickly cuts out and the reporter sends the show to a commercial break.
“Oh my God.” I say. I have so many emotions. So many thoughts are going through my mind that I may just explode. I don’t think I can possibly take any more of this. I just want to go home but I need to report the break in.
“Khloe, who would have done this?“ I told you, you would regret embarrassing my family.
“Lena Le Roux.”
“What? No way!”
“I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up and immediately call the police who tell me they are already on their way to the scene. Then I continue through the rain to Pat’s to check on my dad and profusely apologize for the mess I’ve brought upon us.
It had to be Lena. Is this the way this family handles its problems? Using the media as a weapon? What kind of person stoops so low? I have done nothing to these people that would warrant such an action. This has to be about more than the article. She’s probably wanted to hurt me since she heard about me and Cash in the first place.
Cash.
I’ll be damned if I don’t care about him but, I can’t do this. I can only give so much. I can only be so open. I pull out my phone and send Cash one text message.
Me: I’m done.
I can’t do this anymore. I’ve given absolutely all I can to this relationship and at this point it is too toxic. I seriously think I could be in love with Cash but that can’t replace the love I have for my father. Seeing our family be dragged through the mud like that? It hurts. I have spent my entire existence trying to be good enough. Good enough to make my mom come back. Good enough for my father to love me again. Good enough that my grades could get me into a good enough college so that I could have a decent job to support us. I’ve tried being good enough for Cash. Good enough for his family.
And I’ve seen nothing in return. Nothing to show for all of the trying I did to make everyone else look at me with a pride I can’t even find in myself. A sob racks through me as I make my way through the damp streets.
When I get on Pat’s street, I see flashing lights and I hear sirens. I hope that this does not hold up traffic long. I want to rip my father’s throat out for the rent thing but I also want to make sure he is okay after his run in with the papz. Pat’s street is filled with shabby, beat up houses that sit a little higher off of the ground than normal because this area is at a higher risk of floods and hurricanes. Her house reminds me of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s green on the outside with faded chocolate rugs on the inside. It is not until I stop staring at the house and start looking at the driveway that I notice the ambulance is at Pat’s house.
“Oh, no.” I find myself muttering as I start running from the corner. The rain is pouring down heavier now and after being cold for most of the day I’m starting to shiver. My feet pound on the pavement splashing water around my ankles and on to my legs. A few paramedics are standing outside of the house and stop me when I get too close.
“I have to…my dad…my dad lives here.” I explain. The guy looks at me and then back at the house.
“What’s your name?”
“Khloe, Khloe Hudson. My dad is Darrel. Is he…is he okay?” I question just as more paramedics come through the door with a gurney. I stutter and stumble over my words. “Is that…is he okay?” I ask as my heart thuds in my chest and hot tears roll down my face. I have never been familiar with the incredible amount of fear I am currently experiencing at the thought of losing the only other blood relative I am certain I have left in the world. Black spots dot in front of my eyes and I almost black out but I hastily wrap my fingers around the rusted metal of the side rail of the stairs.
“Ma’am? Are you all right?” The paramedic asks me as he moves me out of the way so the others can get my father safely down the stairs.
“I can’t…he has to be…” I get out between anguished gasps. My chest feels so empty and heavy at the same time, like I am being pulled and pushed by an unforgiving tide. I may drown in the panic wracking through my body.
“Ma’am please, breathe.” The paramedic tries to help.
“Khloe?” Liz’s voice comes from the sidewalk. She jumps out of her car and leaves the door open as she runs over to me. There is a pause between hearing it the first time and feeling her grasp my arm. “Is she okay? Is that her father.” Liz asks the EMT.
“I’m sorry about your father. We were called here a little while ago by his girlfriend. She said that he was breathing funny and had some pains in his chest and arm. Would you like to ride to the hospital with us?” The man asks and I nod. Before I walk off with him Liz grabs me and looks into my eyes.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I have been looking for you all afternoon. Cash and I have been calling your phone…”
“Ma’am, we need to leave.” The paramedic tells me. I squeeze Liz’s hand.
“Meet me at the hospital.” I tell her with pleading eyes. She nods to me and then runs back to her car as I follow the paramedic. Hastily we run down the steps. I feel more like I am floating, because this reality cannot be my real life. This is not my life. My father will survive this. He has to. Please don’t leave me by myself. I know others would probably say good riddance. But, my dad is the only blood relative that I have. No matter what he does or doesn’t do. I still love him.
Liz speeds off and I sit across from the EMT’s that continue to monitor my father’s vitals as we pull away from the house.
My father lies between all of us like a barrier. Loud sirens alert other drivers on the road and the driver of the truck never stops, only slows down. I assume he is flying through every red light imaginable between here and Dexter Memorial. Memorial… that word makes me want to plug my ears and scream. It sounds like a place that you take people who are already dead, not fighting for their lives. What feels like two hours later is likely only a fifteen to twenty minute drive. EMTs and hospital staff work together to unload my father and quickly and safely get him inside.
I can’t remember any of the words that are said in the ambulance. I can’t remember how I got out of the ambulance or how I ended up on the fourth floor of the hospital in a waiting room pacing back and forth as tears slide down my cheeks like tiny rivers of anguish and despair. A few people are in the room as well but they look about as comfortable to be there as me. I don’t look at them long, just long enough to know that I am not alone and can’t burst into hysterics without looking like an absolute maniac and making others who are not having the best of days feel even worse for wear.
I am not sure how much time goes by before Liz and Jasmine show up. They both immediately wrap me in hugs. Liz first and then Jasmine. When I feel Jasmine’s arms wrap around me in a tight hug and her mumbled words into my hair, “It’s going to be all right Flower Pot.” She gasps out, her tears adding to my soggy state. “You’re not alone.” I burst out into the hysterics that have been bubbling inside of me since I opened my front door. She holds me the entire time, never loosening her grasp. Never letting me go. And I gratefully suck in all the comfort she is willing to give me. Because she is the only mother I have ever known and the fact that she would be here for me in my most desperate time of need makes me feel both needed and cared for unconditionally, for the first time in as long as I can remember.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Life is so strange. It can be fragile and rough at the same time. It’s a constant tug of war to me. It gives and takes things in a way that makes you completely unsure of what’s up, and what’s down. It shows you who you are in the most intense times. It challenges the strengths you thought you had and shows you your weaknesses in a mirror that is undeniably unforgiving. I never really thought I had much of a life. I didn’t have much of a family or many friendships. But, I always took care of those around me as best I could. My father, though he may not be the best father in the world, I made sure that he had food to eat, even when he preferred liquor. I made sure that our home was taken care of. And i
f nothing else, we had each other.
Now…now I’ve failed us. Our home has been ransacked. Our lives are forever changed and I don’t know if that’s for the best or not. I’m not even sure what we have left. Pat shows up shortly after I do and although we don’t really speak, I acknowledge her and see that she really does care for my father. After a little while she lets me know that she can’t miss anymore work but she will visit my father after her shift.
I’m in the waiting room a couple hours before a nurse comes in looking for me, asking me questions about my father’s health habits. I explain to her about his drinking with a monotone, detached voice that probably makes her think I don’t care about my father’s health at all. I am trying so hard not to break down again that I keep absolutely any feeling and emotion at all as tightly bottled up as possible. Freaking out will not solve any of these problems. Problems I brought on myself. Liz rubs my back as I get the run down on my father.
The nurse with kind eyes lets me know that my father suffered a mild heart attack and is undergoing emergency surgery to unblock whatever passageway to the heart that has been clogged by his alcoholism. I clench my fingers into tight fists and bite my lip. I hope I still have teeth left after all of this. She informs me that when the surgery is over someone will alert me of when I will be able to see my father and how the procedure went. Right now, she cannot give me much more information than that.
When she leaves all I can do is replay in my mind all of the times that I have shared with my father. The good, the bad, and the obvious ugly. Even with all of that I would not give him up for the world. He is the only thing that I, for sure, have in this world…a biological connection that cannot be broken—no matter how much bad parenting comes into play. He is my blood and I will give everything I have before I give up on him. Even if he has already given up on himself.