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It wasn’t much, but I’d made it home. Any money left over at the end of the month would go to buying a few things from our local dollar store to help brighten the place up. My father always cussed me out for it, but the knickknacks made me smile. I’d collected a bunch of strange tin figurines in the shape of fun animals that sat on the counter. I filled glass vases with fake bright-colored flowers, and used craft paper on cheap canvases to decorate the walls and hide some of the cracks. It was the little things that made me happy.
Humming to myself, I pulled out the sliced ham and opened it up. The smell hit me before I saw the white and green moldy spots. Turning the box over, I sighed. I distinctly remembered buying the sandwich meat not too long ago, but it had come from the discount store.
Tossing it, I grabbed the last egg from the carton, the one that I was going to boil, and cracked it into the bowl. If there was no meat, Daddy wasn’t going to be happy, but hopefully the other egg would appease him.
Throwing hard ramen squares into some boiling water, I did a quick scrub of the kitchen while the food cooked. My father expected everything to be spotless, although with all the strange old stains on the surfaces, that was easier said than done.
When the food was ready, I took it out to the living room. We had a small dinner table in the kitchen, but I was the only one who ever used it. My father always took his meals in front of the television. “Here you go, Daddy,” I said as I handed him the plate and sat a new beer on the side table next to him.
“Where’s the damn ham?” he snarled as he looked at his dinner. “You said you’d fry up some ham.”
“It went bad, Daddy. I gave you an extra egg to make up for it. I’m sorry. I get paid tomorrow, and should be able to swing by the grocery store when after work.”
Grunting, he grabbed his fork and dug into the eggs. Quietly, I twirled my ramen around my fork and watched him from where I sat on the couch. “Are you and Rosaria going out tonight?”
“No. Boys night.”
Immediately, my stomach clenched. My neighbors, the drug dealers and gang bangers and addicts, didn’t scare me as much as my father’s friends did. Most of my neighbors have known me since I was fourteen. If anything, they looked out for me. On the nights that I came home late, those of them who were still out loitering would snap at me for not texting them and asking them to walk me home. They’d follow me up the stairs to the apartment to make sure that I got in safely.
My father’s friends, on the other hand, were drunk leches who always looked at me like I was going to be their next meal. When they came over, I usually locked myself in my room and tried to pretend that I wasn’t listening to all the shit they said about me. It was gross, hands down.
“Are they coming here?” I asked quietly.
“Now why the hell would they come here? You’ve got no food for them,” he snapped. “We’re going to the bar. Not that it’s any of your damn business.”
“Okay, Daddy. Just remember that I paid a few bills yesterday and today. We have to pay a fee every time we overdraw the accounts.” I flinched when he turned his head and fixed me with an angry glare. Casting my gaze down to my food, I shifted uncomfortably on the couch.
“I need you to wash my clothes tonight. So whatever plans you had, cancel them. Wash my sheets, too. Rosaria is coming over tomorrow, and I need clean sheets.”
“I didn’t make any plans, Daddy. I’ll be happy to do the laundry.” It was on my to-do list anyway. It was easier to get the cleaning done when my father was out. I didn’t have many friend
s left and my boyfriend was working tonight, so what else was there to do anyways?
After cleaning and putting away the dishes from dinner, I reached above the refrigerator for the jar of quarters up there. There was a coin laundry in the apartment complex, although half the machines didn’t work and I was pretty sure that they were designed to eat the quarters. As I wrapped my hands around the jar and grabbed, I squeezed my eyes shut. It was so much lighter than it was supposed to be.
Three days ago, the jar was full. Now there were barely enough quarters to get one load done.
Great. Now I was going to have to start hiding the coins.
“By the way, you have to move out at the end of the week,” my father said coldly as he walked by the kitchen and down the hall.
I couldn’t have heard him right. Confused, I called after him. “What was that, Daddy?”
“I said, at the end of the week, you need to move your slutty ass out of my apartment. Rosaria is moving in, and there just isn’t enough room for the three of us. Not the way we do things.”
I shuddered. With these thin walls, it was impossible not to understand his meaning. “How are you going to pay the bills?”
He smirked. “Rosaria just got a raise. She makes more money cleaning than you do slutting it around at the Grill and Fry Hut.”
“It’s not like that, Daddy. I’m not like that. You know that,” I said desperately, reaching out and grabbing the frame to the door.
“Please,” he scoffed. “You’re just like you’re fucking mother. She’d spread her legs for every man if it meant paying for her next score, and you’re no different. I see the way men look at you. You think I don’t know?”
Hot tears gathered in my eyes. Usually, my father didn’t accuse me of being like my mother until he was good and drunk, but even sober, I could tell there’d be no convincing him that I wasn’t like that. “This is my home, Daddy. Where will I go?”
“That’s your problem. You’re eighteen. Just make sure you pay rent before you go. It’s the least you can do after all that I’ve done for you.” He grabbed his wallet and hat and stomped out of the apartment. As the door slammed shut, I let the tears fall.
One week? How was I going to find a place to live in one week? My entire paycheck was going to go to his rent. There wouldn’t even be enough left over to pay for one night as a sleazy hotel, let alone find a new apartment.
