Chapter 4

Nice To Meet You Dad

Dear Diary, my father spoke to me. OH MY GOD.

Sunday morning started out like no other.. wake up, quickly shower, listen to whatever tunes were on the radio, get dressed (except this time in much more feminine clothing plus I also applied a coat of mascara and a few dabs of rosy lipstick) after I'll eat a breakfast fit for the typical sugar junkie - obviously the usual bowl of 'Cap'n Crunch' cereal with a few 'Pixie Sticks' sprinkled on-top to sweeten that bitch up. Then I'll head back up stairs, to grab a few things before escaping from this god-forsaken house.

After having hastily shoved the last mouthful of cereal down my throat - I dumped my dishes in the sink and bolt upstairs. I had to be quick, my parents would come home any minute from their night out drinking, gambling, fighting and god knows what else.

I flew up the stairs surprised at how much mobility I had, without the baggy clothes weighing me down.

My sneakered feet rounded the curve in the stairs, "ALLISON!"

I smelt him before I heard him. Exhaling deeply before cautiously turning around I'm suddenly face to face with my father of whom is rocking back and forth on the stairs. Absolutely reeking of scotch, the stench was strong enough to make my eyes water. The man which I'm supposed to call 'Dad' wore a chequered shirt which was unbuttoned, revealing a red flush which crept up to his neck. An indication that he had been drinking heavily. He continued to sway. Gingerly I took a step away from him so I was standing on the step below me. Suddenly he lolled his head back as if he were a baby and could not support his own head, the weight of his head.. I guess threw him off balance and he stumbled over his own feet.

"Woah there" I say mockingly, not really caring whether or not he falls or not. He deserves it.

He stumbled forward, and he stares at me with red eyes.. ah fuck he was stoned too. Suddenly he raised a hand out to me, his fingernails had a slightly purple twinge "I'm - I - I'm okay... I'm okay"

Throwing his head back a deep burst of laughter erupted from him, it shook me a little.

"Iemmetellyou summin'" My father slurred staring crookedly at me, "I neeever wann'ed aaaaa kid"

A scoffed trying to camouflage the hurt that plagued my face "Yeah, well too bad"

At that dreadful moment I realised in my whole sixteen and a half years of life that my dark brown eyes were in-fact inherited from my father. A father who had just told me two seconds before, that he never wanted me. My throat clenched, and my arms suddenly felt cold. I broke eye contact with him as the pain that lashed through my stomach felt as if an angry dragon were lashing it's tail against my insides. I felt my eyes burn, though not from the stench of his alcholic breath but with tears.

I truly was a mistake. An accident. Unwanted. A waste of space. Worthless. Everything I wrote in my diary was being clarified it seemed in this brief encounter on the stairs.

"There is no point staying here.. I need to run away" My thoughts taunt me, echoing in my ears, ricocheting off my brain and repeating themselves over..and over again. Run-away, nobody loves you.

Unloved.

Suddenly, before my heart-beat grew too loud to hear anything..I hear the most strange but wonderful words in the world.

My father tossed his head back, throwing his shaggy hair away in the same manner as Bender. He then locked his gaze on my face, and repeated himself.

"I neeever wann'ed aaaaaa kid" he said slowly then grinned widely at me. A person was no longer before me, it was a smug and cruel cheshire cat with fangs for teeth and a sword for a tongue. Before I could scurry away hurt, my father - my dad softly says "Never wannn'edd-d a kid, buuut.." then clumsily reaching a hand out smiling he poked me on the forehead "I guess, yu are awll'right"

Then he staggered down the hall, I watched him as he tripped into his bedroom laughing at.. well whatever he was laughing at.

A warm tear trickled down my face, though not with sadness this time. I looked in mirror which hung dusty and cracked on the wall. Apparently, I had also inherited my dad's drunken Cheshire cat grin.

My dad then stuck his head out his bedroom door his brows furrowing in confusion "W-who was that" he waved his hand in front of his face as if trying to conjure up a word in the dusty air "Boy-ehh on.. friday?"

"A-uh, just a guy" I mumble my gaze drifting to the side as I try to avoid that fucking creepy leer he had when he was drunk.

"Hetree-in'yougoo'?" It was a question I'm sure.. but his words were so slurred I just ignored him. One thing you should know about Allison Reynolds is: I do not deal with drunk people.

Whatever, I ran to my bedroom and pushing the door open. I quickly scanned the room for my blue shoulder bag. As I flung it over my shoulder I grabbed Andrew's hoodie and suddenly the memories of Saturday's Detention came flooding back to me wrapped in that butterfly in your belly feeling. I must have looked like a fucking idiot running my fingers over the fabric, blushing and smiling like a psycho. I wanted to see Andrew again sooooooo badly. As I turned the hoodie over I heard a crunch, like the rustling of a gum wrapper you've left in your pocket.

"Oh.." I mouth as I stuck my hand in the pocket and pulled out a bit of paper. I quickly realised it was a note.

My fingers suddenly acquired a mind of their own attacking the note open.

Call me, 626-584-5723

Plodding down the stairs and out the front door into the open air, grateful for the warm spring weather. Without thinking I shove the hoodie into my bag along with the wrestling sports patch, with the note still in my hand I push it into the pocket of my denim skirt.