In Need of Earl Grey

Chapter Ten

    I'm standing in the showers as boiling water scorches my black eye. My skin is red and splotchy from the heat. Steam chokes me along with the thoughts in my head. Slowly after almost an hour the water is cold as ice and I'm shivering. It's has been a good two or three days since I've been released from jail, but I still think Dad hates me. That's not a good feeling. The man you've looked up to your whole life hating you, being thoroughly disappointed with your very existence. There's a pounding at the door so I mope out of the shower.
    I've barely wrapped the towel around my waist when Dad barges in. "Get out of the shower," he shuts the door and is off in his room packing again.
    I gaze into the wet mirror. Moisture clings to the surface and seems to accentuate my features.
My stomach seems more muscular than usually. Probably because I haven't eaten in the last three days. My arms are small like a dying person's. Which I guess I am, dying that is. Death doesn't scare me anymore, I have actually welcomed the idea. Thought of making it come sooner just to stop fucking up everyone else's lives.
    My eyes are sunken in and bad shot from night after night after night of crying silently on the floor. My hair has grown on the sides into a fuzz but the top front is a mop of brown black curls that reaches to my nose. My lips are red and furious from me nervously biting at them, like my nails. I look into my own eyes and see a distant person that I do not know. This person I've only seen once. In fifth grade. He's broken and bent and caged inside a monster.
    I've grown scrawny and weak in the last month. I look completely unkempt. Curls have spread thickly from my navel to my chest and furious red gouges are dug over my heart where I had been clawing at my heart. Peach fuzz threatens to take over my gaunt, haggard jaw. Wear and tear and sleep deprivation have taken all sorts of tolls.
    I feel nauseous like I'm on a trip lost in the sea of my own mind and have exhausted all my resources. I've been taking all of my anti-depressants but they make me feel high, like at Catherine and the thought only makes me debilitated. Infirmity grips me under her clasped palms and whisper bitter words of malcontent and insanity to my ears.
    I turn off the light so I can't see the mirror but the image of that languid deformity. I need to put on clothes to hide this, this, this mess. This monstrosity. I throw the bathroom door open and go to the medicine cabinet for pain killers and sleep medication. Dad calls me but I ignore him.
    "Drew!" He calls again.
    "What?" I try to yell but it comes out a croak.
    "Come here," When I get to his room he looks me over with a look of shock and irritation and worry. "You need to eat before I go,"
    "I'm not hungry,"
    "And I'm not asking,"
    "Fine," I shake my head and let the thick mop cover my eyes. Dad touches my chest and traces the red lines.
    "Drew,"
    "I'm fine," I push his hand away, "They're old,"
    "I'm," He hesitates and his voice lightens, "Andrew maybe-"
    "Maybe you should finish what you were saying,"
    He doesn't talk for a moment, "I have to go out of town for war later tonight or earlier tomorrow morning," He sighs, "No one will babysit for multiple reasons. Which puts you in charge. It'll only be for a day. All you have to do is feed them when they get home from school. Can I trust you?"
    "Sure,"
    "Drew,"
    "Yes, Dad, you can trust me,"
    Sigh. "Okay. Now go get in pajamas. You're puddling on my floor,"

    Up in my room I down the pills and put on pajamas and lay in bed a while. I fall asleep quickly. I woke when someone knocked on the front door. I open my window to hear what might play out as I hear Dad open the door down stairs.
    "Marjorie,"
    "Are we on for tonight,"
    "Oh," Dad curses under his breath, "I totally forgot. I'm so sorry. I'm actually head out right now."
    "Out?"
    "Cooperville, for the convention,"
    "Oh, I'm not going,"
    "How are they kids?"
    "Good,"
    "How's Drew?"
    "He's. He's Drew,"
    "He's watching the children?" She sounds genuinely curious not judgmental or crass.
    "Yeah," He sounds worried, "It'll only be for a little. I'm basically already gone and I'll be back just after dinner,"
    "Do you want me to-"
    "No," He cuts her after, "I mean, no thank you,"
    "I was just trying to..." She trails off.
    I here Dad's footsteps pace for a moment and a loud roaring sigh as is all his fatigue had left him in one wind.
    "I know Mar," He says back by the door now, "He's just so rebellious but so delicate. Like glass boiling water. Leave too quick and he'll break, let him simmer too long he'll break. I don't know if I'm doing anything right. I feel like addled,"
"Mark," She coos.
"No, no no no. Stop." She snuff as if she jumped away, "I can't do this right now!" Dad says. "I can't do us right now,"
"What are you saying?" Marjorie sounds like she's about to break down right there on the porch.
"Marjorie, I need to focus on bringing my family together before I usher in another person,"
"Mark?" She is crying now.
"Good bye, Marjorie," Dad shuts the door and I hear shoes clicking on the road across the street. Her car starts and speeds away before I hear Dad roll his suitcase out to the car and leave.
I should feel happy.  this is exactly what I wanted. She's gone. This is a treat. Fate has finally focused on me and done what I want. Finally Dad will see I was right. I was righ-
I vomit out of my window and am thrown backwards by nausea. I feel food poisoned and exhausted all at the same time. Dry heaving on the floor I wonder what I ate. Nothing for the last three days, well, nothing but the pills. I run downstairs to the bathroom and fall in front of the toilet. I dry heave for a good ten minutes. I look at the anti-depressant and pain killer bottles. Both say: DO NOT MIX WITH OTHER MEDICATIONS in small laters at the bottom of the bottles.
"Fuck!" I throw them both back in the medicine cabinet. The nausea persist but the dry heaving  ends shortly. I teeter back up stairs and look at my phone. I haven't looked at it for days. Still no texts. Not from Micah, Todd, or Catherine. I text the boys.
Me: Hey guys
No reply comes for twenty minutes.
Me: Guys? Mad?
Nothing. Nothing.