Diaries

Chapter 8

The night sky took over the gray of day as I smoked a cigarette out of my bedroom window. I started smoking when I was ten. I'd steal them from my mother's purse, sometimes my father's coat. They'd point a finger at one another, arguing about who took it. Of course, I was never the blame, as they could never imagine it was me so young.

It felt as if when I'd inhale, the smoke was all of the trouble I faced daily. It would take up my lungs, turn them black as tar, and ache in my chest... just as the anxieties of my parent's unsorted life I had to live through made me feel. Once I'd exhale, it was like blowing it all away, and feeling leveled again.

The door swung open, I turned around seeing Swifty stumbling in, I could smell the alcohol on him from across the room. I quickly smashed the end of the cigarette into the ash tray, trying to suppress a cough while hiding it.

"Look, Jess, I'm sorry for earlier, alright?" He stood by the door, "are you... are you smoking?"

I shook my head no, quickly.

"Come here." He demanded.

I rolled my eyes, sliding the ash tray under my pillow. I knew I'd regret it later, but anything was better than adding more wood to the fire between my father and I.

"Hurry up."

I walked over to him, leaving at least six feet between us, which meant I only took a few steps from the window to the door in which he stood between.

"What were you doin' with that kid, eh?" He asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, looking him right in the eye.

"Oh so now you don't wanna talk to me, is that it?" He asked.

"I never wanna talk to you, Swifty." I mumbled.

"See, that's why we don't get along. That's exactly why, we don't--"

"We don't get along because you're an asshole."

He took a step closer to me, reaching out and grazing my cheek softly, lowering his voice, "sweetheart, now don't talk that way."

I backed away from him, feeling uncomfortable. He'd never spoken to me that way.

"What? I'm your father."

"You're being weird." I took a few steps back, stepping on one of my cassette tapes and cracking it. I knew I should have cleaned my room earlier. I looked down to see which one it was, but I could barely focus as Swifty took a step closer.

"Is that what you said to Leo today when he was..." he pushed my hair behind my ear the same way Leo did when he'd found me earlier, "playing with your hair?"

I took a few more steps back until I felt my legs hit my unmade bed, "dad what's wrong with you?" My heart was beating heavily, so much that it ached.

"Look, Jessica... you're turning into a beautiful young lady, and I understand that young boys are going to like you." Every word came out in a slur, he moved in closer, causing me to fall into a seat on the bed. His breath reaked of alcohol, cigarettes, and an Italian sandwich.

"Where's mom?" I asked.

He continued on, ignoring my question entirely, "do you forgive your father?" He asked, knealing down at my knees before me.

I nodded quickly, anything to get him out of my face and out of my crackerjack box of a room.

"I know you've been smoking, Jessica. I can smell it."

"No I haven't."

"Listen, kid, if there's anything you want to try, try with your father first. Not that street kid, Leo. He's a good kid, trust me, but... you're always safest with your father. Alright?" He said.