The room is dark and there is a shadow leaning against the soft light of the hallway. Gillian jolted from her sleep focuses her eyes on the shell of a man standing, leaning against the door.
“Hey kiddo,” her father slurs.
“Shhh, you are going to wake up Andie.,” Gillian, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, tosses of the covers and walks out to follow him into the living room. The room stinks like booze. There are papers everywhere and folders with bills out. He stumbles toward the kitchen.
“Gilly I need to assssk you smfing.” He sits down at the kitchen table. The clock on the stove blinks 3:37 a.m. Gillian remembers it’s Saturday. “Honey, I…” her father mumbles. He runs his fingers through his greasy hair. “I… I don’t think I can do this any more.” He places his hands over his face. “I am asking you for help.”
The house is silent and his words cling to the air. Gillian instinctively moves to make a pot of coffee, not saying anything. Avoiding his blood shot eyes.
“You need to call your uncle. I want to check into a hospital. I think I am loosing my mind.”
They never tell you about this in those Life Studies classes you are forced to take as a freshman. Gillian was sure that they taught you how to write a check, find the library, change a diaper, open a bank account, but what about when your father looses his job and your mom has to take a job out of state so that you won’t loose your house? The never teach teens about food stamps, depression, how to act happy when the only work your parent can get is across the country, or what to say when the only parent you have in the house tells you they are going crazy.
“You just need some coffee daddy,” she can’t look at him, it hurts too much. Gillian can taste the salty tears building up in the back of her throat and swallows them down. “Be brave, this isn’t the end of the world,” she tells herself.
“No I don’t,” he shouts. “Call your fuckin’ uncle before I loose my nerve!”
Praying that he would not wake up Andie or the baby Gillian reached for the phone charging on the counter and dial her uncle’s phone number and hands the phone to my her father. He shakes his head and pushes the phone back to her. Gillian once again tries to hand it back to him, he grabs it reluctantly.
“Billy? I think I am ready. Come get me. Gilly has the kids taken care of.” There are tears silently streaming down his face.
Gillian walks back to her room fleeing the scene unfolding in the kitchen.
YOU ARE READING
Senior Stories: Gillian Lombart
Teen FictionGillian Lombart has it all under control, well that is until the summer of senior year when her father looses his job and her mom has to find work out of state. Left to manage the family Gillian discovers that all her dreams of life after high schoo...
