Ignorance Is Swiss!

4 ♦ Ignorance Is Swiss

4 ♦ Ignorance Is Swiss

"Dad!"

My screech, I have to admit, did sound like someone was being killed in my room. I jumped up from my bed, almost tumbling to the floor as I unrolled my clothing. I hadn't noticed how wrinkled it was before, but as I put it on as quickly as possible, I did not care one bit. I pulled down and kicked my pants off as if it was on fire, and finished putting on my uniform in less than a minute.

"Dad! Dad! Dad!"

I kept screaming with the same level of shrill and highness. My feet scurried down the narrow stairs, my hands at work pulling my braided hair out of my shirt. Meeting me at the bottom of the staircase was my father. His shorts were rolled up and his eyes were ten feet out of their sockets.

"What's wrong? Are you dead?"

"I will be." I checked my phone, the numbers at the top right of the screen reading two fifty-eight. "Dad, please take me to work. I completely forgot about it and--"

"What?" Instead of the supportive dad that would say "It's alright, we all make mistakes," his voice was raised and intimidating. I had a feeling that it was half because of my stupidity, and half because of my over dramatic yells.

I did not move an inch further than where I was standing. "I'm sorry, Dad. Today was a rough day at school, and I ended up forgetting I had to come in an hour early." All he did was shake his head, the shine from the light bulb swinging from one side to the other. He went to the living room and sat back down, placing his laptop back onto his lap. He shooed me away as I followed him to his seat.

"Walk."

I was stunned. Checking the time, which was one minute past three, I started to panic.

"I can't. By the time I get there it'd be half way through my shift!"

"You should have walked when you could have, then." He had to be joking. At least, that was what I assumed. But when he turned his head and revealed his twisted face, I knew for sure that he was not. "You have grown irresponsible, Safia. I don't like it. This is why I didn't want you to go to that party tomorrow."

The party! Knowing my mother, if she ever found out about me forgetting about work, she would have dropped the offer she gave me in a heartbeat. Rather, she would have eliminated the party aspect, but still demand for my essay by tomorrow morning. What would Valerie think? Before I could decide on the answer, I heard the angry clicks of the keyboard. He had resumed what he was doing before, but in a much worse mood.

I stood in front of him, grabbing my hat from the banister and putting it on. "Dad, please. School has been tough, so it's taking me some time to adjust. Please just take me! I promise I won't ever ask anything of you again." My father glanced up in interest. Indeed, that was a very alarming deal; he was always the one I went to first if I needed something. That deal was like telling a dentist that I would never eat candy again. And he knew it.

"Don't be unrealistic, Saf. You know that would never happen." Regardless of saying such, he stood up from the couch and grabbed his keys from the kitchen table.

A wave of relief consumed me, but also guilt. All of the sudden, I wished I would have just walked. The word "sorry" couldn't escape my lips, although I wanted it to; the fact that someone else had to do more work because of my careless actions was horrible to bare.

The ride to Joe's deli was extremely uncomfortable, to say the least. The only thing that was on my mind was the horrible misfortune in the case that my mother decided to call me at the moment. On usual days, she called around that time; it was her break, and she liked asking how school went. But if she called, my dad would leap from the wheel to take the phone, ready to tell her about my irresponsibility. My head was hung low, stretching my shirt in replace of ironing the wrinkles.