Enforcing Justice

Bottles and Hearts

jus·tice      \ˈjəs-təs\  noun   

 1. the process or result of using laws to fairly judge and punish crimes and criminals 

My daddy lost his job. He was a pharmaceutical salesman. Momma said that every once in a while he'd bring back some "extra" bottles of medication. These occasions grew closer and closer together until it became a daily thing. He'd bring home a little yellow bag and put it into his closet. 

One day some men showed up at the house to do some investigating and sure enough, they found those "extra" bottles. Momma swore she knew nothing of the bottles, but she was lying. Daddy was accused of stealing and was to be brought to court the next day. "May justice be done to him" one of the investigators said before they left. Momma scowled as she closed the door.

The night my daddy lost his job, I lost my daddy. I was only nine at the time, but I remember everything very clearly. He ran off somewhere where momma and I couldn't find him. We went all over town looking for him, but he was no where to be found. About two days later, our car was reported in an accident. He was driving drunk and crashed through a guardrail and landed into a creek. The cops brought momma to see the wreckage, but I had to stay home with officer Ryan. 

Officer Ryan was a nice man. All he did was sat with me at the kitchen table, but I could tell he cared. He even took off his cap and set it on the table in honor of my dad. I didn't respect my dad, but he did. Whenever I look back, my dad was never there when I look to the future, my dad won't be there. In the end, nothing really changed. 

Momma came home about an hour later. Her face looked distraught. I'd never seen her so upset before. Her tears had dried up around her bright red eyes. She set a pen on the table in front of me and then locked herself in her room. I could hear here sobbing through the closed door.

That night, I felt lonely as I stared at the ceiling. I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn't. I felt neglected and alone. Like the entire world had forgotten about me. My father's death had cast a shadow that hid me from my mother's eyes. I felt alone in the world. Like no one cared.

We attended the funeral a few days later. It was a small funeral and not many people were there. Officer Ryan was there. He was dressed in black suit that Sunday morning with a blue tie around his neck. When the funeral was over, Officer Ryan came and talked to me for a little while. He let me know that he was sorry about our loss. He told me to contact him if I ever needed anything. 

Officer Ryan drove my momma and I back to the house. When we got home, momma went to her room and closed the door. I just sat in the hallway with my back against the wall. I pulled out daddy's old work pen and doodled on my arm. I drew a little heart. I set the pen down and hugged my knees. I could hear momma sobbing through the door. I picked up the pen again and drew a crackled line through the heart. I did it to show how I felt. But no one noticed.