Dirt Poor

SEVENTEEN - Warmth

My sleep was restless that night. I couldn't get the stench of beer and cigarettes out of my mind and even though I could normally ignore most pain I had, I couldn't ignore the throbbing on my head from where my father yanked me back. I couldn't ignore the pain that radiated throughout my entire back from when my father punched me. I couldn't even ignore the minuscule pain that shot through my waist from where Johnny had gripped me.

Before I knew it, the time ticked on and my alarm rang from beside me. It wasn't a loud alarm, it couldn't be. Another thing I had to get used to in this life with my father, not making noise that could possibly wake him up, so my alarm instead was a symphony of relaxing piano notes that gently pulled me from sleep, normally at least.

I hurried to get myself ready, having to change out my clothes sooner than I wanted to due to last night. I wasn't going to go to school smelling like alcohol. I would just have to wear one of my outfits for a 3rd time this week until I could get the other washed.

I only had 3 outfits to choose from and I wore them multiple times in a week, trying my hardest to keep everything clean. I had maroon corduroy pants that were still somehow so soft, and even though they were nowhere near fashionable, they were still my favorite pair of pants.

I had a pair of black slacks that narrowed at the ankle and sat about an inch above my ankle bone-the epitome of fashion-I disliked those the most, but beggars couldn't be choosers. I didn't need a lot of clothes and I also saw the other families that came into the church on Wednesdays and Sundays. They seemed to need it more than me so I always passed on the clothes until absolutely necessary.

Finally, a pair of bootcut brown pants that were tattered and frayed at the bottoms from dragging on the ground when I walked as the pants were too long for me or I was too short, either way, it wasn't the most professional or put together look. I tried to only wear those on Fridays but I wasn't always that lucky.

The rest of my wardrobe consisted of the essentials, underwear that was a little too old and had random holes, socks with the same issues, plain t-shirts, one sweater that I either always wore or brought with me, and what used to be a light blue winter coat. Whenever I had to go pick out clothes at the church, I tried to get the simplest and easiest of clothes. I always went for the plain shirts which were easier to obtain and choose. The pants, however, were a little more difficult due to the sizing, but sometimes I just had to take what I could get.

I finished getting ready, tiptoeing around my father passed out on his chair, half of an uneaten sandwich lay on the table next to him and my stomach grumbled at the sight. I darted as quietly as I could out of the house before my stomach could growl louder and potentially wake him up.

The fall had the morning in a blanket of darkness, stars fighting to be the brightest in a black sky that was polluted with the light of the city. Sometimes, in the summer, I would take the long way home from work that brought me around the back of the trailer park. Instead of turning left into the park, I would take a right. It was only a five or so minute walk to the little hill that sat outside the direct perimeter of the town. It wasn't this grand place, but just a little higher to view as many stars as possible away from the lights of town.

And sometimes, because I wanted to be comforted every so often with something unyieldingly beautiful, I would fall asleep under the stars. Stupid? Without a doubt, but I couldn't help it. Besides, it was so out of the way of town and no one really passed by it, just a field with no homes or roads.

I figured if I could suck it up to sleep in the play tunnels and slides at different parks then I could sleep somewhere that at least took my breath away.