Antifreeze

What do you do when you see this little girl, this perfect lovely little child who's too young to know what the world can do? She's smiling and laughing, so happy. Her bright, wide green eyes are shining. Her short, dark hair is curling around her ears. She's wearing a green dress and a pair of tiny, dirty sneakers. There's a band-aid on her knee.

She's in the arms of her daddy, a tall, dark haired boy with tattoos running up his arm. He's wearing a hoodie and baggy jeans and he's got a piercing in his ear and the sleeves of his sweatshirt are pushed up so you can see the prick marks on his right arm from the heroin needles. His hair is falling in his eyes. He's looking at the girl, his little girl, with so much love. Because he knows that in a month, he'll be dead. He's nineteen.

He's terrified to die. It's not death itself that terrifies him, it's what will happen after. What's going to happen to his daughter? Gloria will have to take care of her. And while he loves his girlfriend, she's an unpredictable hurricane, self destructive and incapable of taking care of herself, much less her own three-year-old daughter. She should be in the hospital, honestly, getting the help she needed. Because when he isn't there, who's going to stop her from doing all the things she's done before? Running away, slashing her wrists, drinking herself into oblivion and dissapearing for days on end?

He wondered if he should change the legal papers to give Naomi partial custody. Hell, maybe full custody. In high school, he had thought Naomi was a walking train wreck, heading for sure trouble with every passing mile. She had always been the reckless one. She was the one who had named his little girl Mary Jane, of all things. But college had calmed her down surprisingly effectively. It may have been something to do with the abusive relationship with that older guy, which she managed to escape a year ago, or the fact that she had to grow up too quickly to take care of Gloria.

He looked down at his daughter in his arms. She was laughing, playing with the zipper on his hoodie. He looked up.

"Mary Jane, we're getting on the bus. Wave goodbye to Naomi." He said, smiling.

"Bye, Naomi!" The little girl called. Her dark curls whipped in the chilly spring wind. Jesus, she was a spitting image of Gloria. He turned around for a few seconds.

Naomi was standing on the curb, arms crossed tightly over her chest in her grey jacket. Her short blonde hair was blowing into her face. "Bye, Mary Jane!" She called, a large, fake smile plastered onto her face. "Have a good day!"

He stepped up onto the first step of the bus walkway, slipping his fare into the cash slot and walking down the isle to find a seat, recieving a few dirty looks as he always did. The image of a young guy with tattoos and emo hair holding a child always offended some people. He ignored everyone and found a seat near the back, setting down his daughter down in the window seat as the bus started to move, pulling away from the curb.

Mary Jane was looking intently out the window, hands pressed up against the glass. Naomi stood on the curb outside, huddled near a street light in the cold and waving.

He leaned back against the seat. He wanted to scream and his entire body hurt. But he stayed quiet as the bus pulled away and started it's journey into the cold, gray city.