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She stared back at me with the sweetest, most innocent looking face I'd ever seen on another human being. A lot of people said we looked alike, and maybe we did back when I was her age. Before life started getting to me and piling on the worries. But, I couldn't remember – or even imagine – ever looking as sweet and innocent as my little sister.
“He's a hardass because he cares about you, chica,” I said, ruffling her hair. “Thinks you have what it takes to make something of yourself. I do too, by the way.”
Her hair was the same dark brown, bordering on black, as mine, except, hers was long and straight, where mine was thick and wavy. Unruly at times. I always thought she got the better end of the stick in the hair department.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sierra said, laughing.
My toast popped up and I buttered it, before putting it on a plate and joining my sister at the table. I snacked on my lunch/dinner combo before I had to head into work.
I dug into my pockets and pulled out a ten-dollar bill, all that I had left
over after paying the bills. I handed it over to Sierra with a sigh.
“Here, get you and Nick something to eat for dinner,” I said. “A pizza or something.”
Sierra looked at the money, then back at me. She didn't take it and a sorrowful expression crossed her face.
“I hate taking your money, sis.”
“You need to eat.”
“So do you.”
“I'm eating, aren't I?” I held up my toast and gave her a smile I hoped didn't look as fake as it felt. “Besides, I can always grab something at the club. You guys can't.”
“Mom said she's going to the store tomorrow.”
“That's tomorrow. You need dinner tonight,” I said and forced the money into her hand. “Speaking of which, do you know when mom's getting off work?”
Sierra shrugged and went back to her homework, slipping her headphones back into place. Music was her escape, as it had been mine at her age. I stared at my sister for a long time, watching her study. Sierra was smart, and I prayed every single day that she'd get a scholarship and get into a good school or something. Anything to get her out of this shithole and into a better life.
Nick had his athletic ability which could take him places, and Sierra her brains. I wanted to believe that I only had to do this for a few more years. After that, both of them would be adults. Hopefully they'd both be off at college somewhere, and I'd be free. Free to live my own life and do what I wanted to do. The sound of something heavy crashing down came from the other room, followed by the distinctive noise of something breaking and glass shattering. My dad's voice called out for my mother and I felt my heart sink a little lower in my chest.
“Maria?” he bellowed. “Where the hell are you?”
Sierra looked up from her textbook, a look of fear in her eyes.
“Maybe you should go study in your room,” I said quietly, hoping to avoid drawing our father's attention.
She nodded and quickly picked up all of her things before hustling to the bedroom she shared with Nick. Mom and I also shared a room – dad usually slept in the living room. He had apparently just woken up for the day in a foul mood. Not that it was all that surprising. That was his usual mood.
At least I worked all night and missed most of his angry rantings and ravings about this thing or that thing, about whatever injustice he felt was inflicted upon him, or who was trying to screw him over for one reason or another. My dad hadn't worked in years – not since sustaining an injury that left him in constant and chronic pain. Ever since then, he did nothing around the house but bitch and complain and drive all of us crazy.
“MARIA!” Dad's voice called out, echoing around the house.
I shouted back at him. “She's at work.”
I put my plate in the sink, adding it to the pile already in there. No time to wash dishes now, I just wanted to get the hell out of here. Dad pulled himself into the kitchen and walked over to the sink and grabbed a dirty glass.
I turned and hastily rushed toward the door, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there, but he stopped me.
“Where do you think you're going?” he snapped.
“To work,” I said.
“Dressed like that?”
I turned and found Dad somewhat sober – which was a rarity – leaning against the kitchen sink. His hair had gone gray a few years ago, and now it looked like it was falling out in patches. His eyes were sunken in, the dark circles beneath them seemed permanent, and deep lines were etched into his face. He looked rough. Hardened.
