Proving your destiny

Chapter nine

Chapter Nine

JAKE'S POINT OF VEIW

                Walking into my house, I set my, well, technically my mom's, car keys on the counter next to the door.

                "Hello?" I called out. There was no answer, like usual.

                I walked to the kitchen. Opening the fridge I checked to see if there was anything to eat.  Next I tried the pantry. Once again, there was nothing good.

                "Ugh, I need to go to the grocery store again," I said to myself.

                I raided my kitchen three more times before I finally settled on Cheetos. I brought my snack to the TV room and sat down on the couch.

                I was halfway through my show when I heard the front door open. I could hear someone walking clumsily in the hallway. Stuffing my last handful of Cheetos in my mouth, I got up.

                "Mom, where were you?" I asked, helping her stand up. She smelt like beer that was badly covered up with perfume. It smelled terrible.

                "I was out." My mom's long brown hair was tangled, and she looked like she had just thrown on whatever was nearest to her at that moment, which happened to be sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt.

                "How'd you get home?"

                "A friend drove me home."

                "Which friend?" I caught her before she fell, and she swatted me off of her.

                "Why does it matter? It's not like you care anyways." Her words cut me like ice as she glowered at me.

                "Which friend drove you home?"                                                                                            

                "Sherry. Are you happy now? Gosh, why'd I have to get such a needy child?" I breathed a sigh of relief--Sherry didn't drink. At least, she doesn't during the day.

                We reached the living room, and she saw the bag of Cheetos lying on the coffee table. She reached grabbed them before heading off to her bedroom.

                "You know, you really need to stop doing this!" I called after her.

                "Don't tell me what to do, you worthless piece of scum!" With that she slammed her door behind her.

                Sighing, I checked my watch.

                "I'm going to work!" I yelled towards her door.

                "Don't you dare crash my car, Jacob Christopher!" was the only response I got.

                "Why? It's not like you ever drive it..." I said under my breath as I walked out the door.

                *                                             *                                             *                                                             *

                "Hey, Jake, how's it going?" Marty, the manager of the GoodReads book store that I worked at asked me when I walked in.

                "It's going good. At least my mother is home."

                "How was she? Any better?" Marty had known me since I was a child, and he was the one I went to when I had a problem. Naturally, he knew about my mother being an alcoholic and my father being an anti-social hermit.

                "Drunk, like usual. I told her she should stop, and she told me she to basically go away." 

                "Sounds like your mom. Organize and put these books away. Come on, chop chop! I don't pay you to just sit there and talk about your mother, do I?" Marty said as he slammed a stack of books on the counter.

                "You could."

                "I'd prefer not to." Marty smiled at me as I started to sort the books. Thus began my four hours of work.

                After work was done, I quick grabbed a dinner at McDonalds. Once I finished my chicken nuggets, I headed over to Krista's for our usual training.

                By the time I arrived at Krista's house, it was almost nine o'clock. The sun had just set, and the air had started to cool down from the heat of May. It had been a month since the time where I had seen Krista dance, and she hadn't done it again. At least, she hadn't danced around me.

                It was Ben who answered when I knocked on the door, instead of Krista, like usual.

                "Hey, Ben," I said, trying to hide my surprise.

                "Hey," Ben moved aside from the door so I could walk in. "Krista's up in her room if you want her. I'm assuming that's why you're here?"

                "Yup, that's why I'm here. But why didn't she come answer the door?"

                "I think she fell asleep or something." Ben shrugged and walked off into the kitchen, leaving me to go find Krista.

                I headed up the stairs and towards Krista's room. Her door was closed-- I could clearly see the paintings that she had hung up. I gently traced one of the intricate flowers with my fingertip. It was a daisy, the white petals contrasting with the dark green around it. Snapping myself back to reality, I knocked softly on her door. There was no answer, so I knocked again.

                "She's not going to wake up that easily," Charlotte said, walking past me.

                "Well, how do I get her to wake up?" I asked, unsure of what to do.

                "Go in there and wake her up yourself, it really isn't that hard. All you have to do is shake her or something," Charlotte shrugged and walked downstairs.

                She makes it seem so easy, I thought. What if Krista's aunt saw me go in there? Wouldn't she freak out? What if Krista didn't want me in her room? Then she would be mad at me.

                Taking a deep breath, I turned the brass handle of my girlfriend's bedroom door.