Chapter 12
It has been two days since I went to work. It's been two days since Father was sober and it's been two days more than I can take. The snow has added to my cabin fever, but the fact that I could be out selling or being at the lodging house or just away from my father is driving me insane.
Father ended up in jail again, and once again we left him there. He got released and headed home, but said he got sidetracked by a friend and ended up back at the bar. He headed for home at three in the afternoon, stopping off at the liquor store to pick up even more alcohol. I came home from working that day by myself instead of going to the lodging house and getting one of the boys to come back with me, so when I arrived at the house, I was relieved in a way that no one had come. Pa was sitting in the living room in one of the beat up cushioned chairs spouting off a version of "Molly Malone" that was very unrecognizable.
Once I entered he smiled a big smile and came over and gave me a hug. Mother was seated in the kitchen and all you could hear was. "Patrick if you're not back in that chair in the next two seconds I'm whipping you within an inch of your life." Pa pouted and walked over to the chair and sat down in a huff. Mother was treating him as a bad child, and I figured it was working quite well. I went into the kitchen where Mother was and sat down with her. And she told me the story of what happened.
We sat there until 11, when he finally fell asleep. Of course he woke up as soon as we fell asleep and continued to drink so by the time four am arrived, he was drunker than ever and telling all the children night time stories so they would "go back to sleep" since he woke them up in his fumbling around the room. Mother, very tired and very angry, stormed into the room and dragged Pa out by his ear to the chair. She was like a drill sergeant and demanded to know where he was hiding his drink.
"Ah think thah mouse tookith." He giggled a bubbly giggle and looked slyly out the corner of his eye at Mother. Luckily he was a happy drunk tonight, instead of an angry violent one as he had been in the past. He began to tell jokes at Mother and I as we sat across from him, like he was in the bar or something. Sometimes he made us laugh, but we were more annoyed than anything. The next morning came and Mother asked me not to go to work, which I knew would piss Strike off, but Pa was still drunk and she couldn't handle him and 5 other children all on her own. So I went into the kitchen and made breakfast for everyone.
Pa was kept in the other room, away from the children and the daily hubbub of the house. Mother put Jude into my arms, and Francis attached to my hand, and sent me off to market to get a few things for the week with the small allowance that we had coming in. As I left I heard Pa arguing that he could indeed work today, he wasn't that drunk.
The roads to market were on the newsies routes but I didn't see any yet. They probably would make it down here later in the morning after they covered the business districts. I made my way slowly down the busy streets, wanting to run into someone and not wanting to get home any faster. But time flew as I packed up vegetables, grains to make bread and some fruit that wasn't bruised. I realized how hard my mom's job was when she had to keep track of the two youngest children, Jude now a year old and wanting to walk all over the market and Francis who wanted to eat everything in sight, and carry a heavy bag of food home. I managed not to lose either of them, and managed not to see any of my friends either.
I spent the rest of the day in shifts with Mother. We both watched over him and while one watched, the other would sleep. Mother was sleeping later that afternoon and I was watching, when Pa got his opportunity to drink again. A loud wail rose up from the next room and, seeing that Pa had his eyes closed, I went to see what was wrong. Francis had fallen and bumped his head on one of the kitchen chairs and so, after some soothing words and walking him back into the other room where his brothers and sisters were, I was able to go back to watching over Father. He was awake, with a smug look on his face. He hiccupped once and grinned a wet grin.
When he spoke, he was obviously more drunk than before and I realized he had snuck some more of the drink while I was out of the room. I groaned and sat down watching him look around the room like a man with a quarter of a brain. He started talking about one of his friends down at the factory, and I only half listened. Soon Mother was in the room and let me go take a nap or do whatever I wanted to do.
It has been two days of the same thing, sitting with Father, trying to keep him from sneaking more drinks while we go take care of the children or we get something to eat. He's pretty good at pretending to be asleep and soon we just didn't get up anymore. Often I would be awake when mother was watching him so I would take care of the children and get her food or drink. But Pa is still drunk, and we don't know what do to. Mother thinks that he should pass out eventually and when he does we should tear apart the room trying to find his source. But Pa has done everything in his power not to pass out while we're awake and he's starting to droop.
This is the third day of this, and I'm getting sick and tired of it. I almost came close to giving him a good yelling but Mother stopped me. "We have to keep him happy so he doesn't turn foul and disturb everyone and get us kicked out." She warned me in the kitchen over supper. He was singing some bar tunes at this point and we could see him from where we were sitting so he didn't dare open up his liquor while we were watching. A knock was heard at our door and Mother groaned. "Its sure to be the landlord telling us to knock of this blasted noise or we'll get the boot." It was the last thing we needed.
But instead of it being the landlord, it was Spot. And Strike. Strike stayed in the hallway, but Spot came in.
"Wheah you been?" He said, taking me aside from my family.
"I've been stuck here. I meant to tell you guys but I couldn't leave. Pa's been really drunk and he has alcohol here in the house, I can't leave Ma here by herself with all the little ones and him. He'd go wild." Spot shook his head.
"Come on out heah, we'se gotta talk." I glanced at mother who nodded at me and I followed him outside. Strike was standing there, looking as mad as I've ever seen him. "Do ya know how worried we'se been about you?" Spot glared at me. "We'se had a few more fights with that gang, one shortly aftah you left the othah day. We'se thought you was taken by them when you didn't come in and when you didn't tell no one wheah you were."
"I'm sorry Spot, I told you I couldn't get out of here to tell anyone. We've had major problems with my Father…" At that point my Father, drunk as can be, stumbled out the door, Mother close behind him yelling at him to get back inside and to leave me alone.
"Who is this Brenna? One of your boyfriends?" His words slurred but he had that fire in his eyes, that violent fire that came only when he was drunk. We had been lucky before, but something had sparked it deep inside him.
"No Pa, this is Spot, my friend from work. He was just checking up and me and all."
"Don't give me that bullshit young lady! Haven't I told you you are not allowed to see any boys?" He cast his wicked gaze over at Spot, missing Strike who I'm sure Pa would have loved to have seen. "So boy, you knocked her up? What you want from me girl?" Spot looked nervously at me, I didn't know what to do. But I had to stop him, otherwise he'd say something he really didn't mean.
Spot cleared his voice and looked up at my father, with a courage I'd have guessed he had lost. "No sir, I am just friends with your daughter and I'm not about to go knock her up—"
Pa hit Spot hard across the face. Both Strike, Mother and I leaped like a cat at my Father, holding him back. Strike stopped, realizing this wasn't his place, and Spot just stood there, a little shocked, his pride a little hurt, but he didn't confront my father like most would if they got hit by someone.
"I didn't touch your daughter," Spot said, seeing that Pa was held back properly enough that he wasn't going to lunge again at him. " and I wouldn't think about touching her." With that Spot just looked at me, shrugged and left, Strike following. Strike made a motion to meet him outside and I silently acknowledged it.
Mother and I managed to get Pa inside and sitting. I left Mother with him, who yelled at him for making a fool out of himself in front of my poor friend. I poked my head out the front of the building, and saw Spot and Strike sitting on the stairs. I sat down next to them.
"I'm sorry guys for making you worry…" I tried to apologize but was ripped apart by Strike.
"We'se thought you were dead. We dun even know what we thought. Dash thought he had heard ya spreadin rumahs and that the gang had gotten wind and taken ya away. That bettah not be true Shasta. I told ya ta watch yer mouth—."
"You know she wouldn't tawk shit about the gang wheah othah's could heah her. She ain't stupid Strike." Spot was a good friend, but I didn't even bother protesting Strike's words until he was done speaking.
"Conlon, did I ask fer yer opinion? No! I'se just tellin her whats been goin on. Anyways, I don't think it was yer mouth cause I woulda hoid something on the streets. But do you know how much shit we coulda gotten in if we hadn'ta come heah? We'se were gonna go attack the gang tomorrah if you weren't back. And fer nothing! You was heah all along! At home safe and sound with good old daddy—." I spoke up this time.
"My so called 'good old daddy' happens to be drunk. Did you not see him? This is what I hafta put up with! Fer two days I had to deal with this! Why don't you come in and see how many siblings I have? Would you like to take care of them while I work and Mother stays home to cook dinner and make sure he doesn't wander off somewhere? You could have come sooner to check on me, you could have sent someone on their route over to my place. And why would you attack them over one newsie? I'm not vital to your existence!"
Strike interrupted me, fire in his eyes. He didn't like to be yelled at unless it was from someone in the same station as him. "Not vital? You ain't a huge part of newsies no! I could fire you right now and wouldn't miss ya company one bit! No one would! We'se get on…but the fact dat the gang mighta took ya is diff'rent! They woulda been invading our territory and kidnappin ain't a small issue. If dey touched one of me newsies, I'd give em hell, as I've been with Jokah and Flash—."
"Flash? What happened to Flash?" A lot apparently had been happening while I was away.
"Flash got knocked around a bit by the gang yesterday. He's got a broken arm, nose and his toes are broken too. Dey caught up with him right outside the lodgin house and gave him a whipping. All by hisself too, 4 against one. They're getting close ta home Shasta, this ain't no laughin matter." Spot said, he was upset, as was Strike, but I was upset too. Not only that Strike was giving me some lecture about how being at work was more important than looking after your own family, but that my friends were getting hurt and I couldn't do much about it because I was a girl. Strike wouldn't let the girls fight, even if we had the physical strength to help them out.
"Who's laughing?" I asked, an edge to my voice. "It's not my fault they're moving in on us and beating us up. If I could stop it I would! Don't you think that?" Strike studied me for a little while then spoke.
"I know you'd help us if necessary but you ain't fighting. End of story. Luna and Voodoo want to, and I told them the same thing I'm telling you. None of me goils are fighting and getting hurt. They're bigger than you—."
"Some of them are my own size if not smaller! I grew up with an older brother, I know how to hold my own!"
"I'm sure you could, but not under me. Maybe under Trick, but I ain't Trick, and if ya want to fight, go join Manhattan, I'd be fine with letting you loose." I tightened my lips and looked off into the distance. I had given Strike the respect he deserved, but he still didn't trust me enough, trust that I wouldn't get myself in trouble, and then tell me that I can't fight even if I could help them. And then tell me he doesn't even want me on the work force with him and his newsies. What was I doing with the newsies anyways? If I was of no use to him, then maybe I should just quit. And that's what I told him.
His head darted around to face mine. "You are of use, you've been very helpful to my boys, but you causin trouble, not telling me wheah you'se at, and yer mouth ain't gonna help me in the long run. Watch yourself Brenna O'Reilly, and I'll help you out in a jam, I promise ya that. You goin ta be at woik tomorrah?"
"Yeah, we confiscated his alcohol source today and he'll be sent back to work tomorrow. So I'll see you guys tomorrow." We all stood up, looking up and down the street. "Sorry Spot about my dad hitting you. He doesn't usually act like that."
"It's all right." He rubbed at his bruised cheekbone. "If you see any of the Italian gang around heah you let us know right away. Run, drop everythin ye're doin if ya hafta, and find one of us. We'se gotta figure out wheah they'se hidin out." I nodded and they nodded back at me, leaving me standing outside my apartment building in the dying light. I shivered slightly, having forgotten my jacket. The snow was starting to fall again, and would add another 4 inches before dawn broke.