My father is my greatest influence. I learned off of everything he did, both good and bad.
My mama was that person of the family who made the moneys, but not much though. On the other foot, Nebraska, my pa, hated committing to anything for too long, so he would refuse to stick to a job for more than a month, maybe. I don't know. I never counted. Well, Ma has clearly been having the sex, with Nebraska, again (or at least probably), so now regarding her job, Maternity Leave has forced her to leave, if you know what I mean. And because of the America allowing zero pay Maternal Leaves, no income checks are to be found in the bank under Tosha Yazzie's name.
Now I shall continue. I have continuously been taken under Nebraska's wing for quite the time now. I recall back at the supermarket, during this maternal session of no pay, one of Nebraska's ideas to bring food for the growing fetus. I was six at this time, and I stood in the candy aisle of our local grocer. I had my eyes set on a beautiful-looking package of something colorful with the name of "Air Heads" printed on it. I picked up the blue plastic packet and slowly read over the words near the bottom, "Now with Grape". I knew I had then fallen in love with the cute, red, grape-tasting balloon, and I did not want to part with it.
"Daddy! Daddy!" I chanted, "Can I get this? Please!" I asked with a grin.
He came over to me and examined the smile-bringing object in my hand with amusement.
"Uh huh... 'Air Heads'... Sounds painful, doesn't it?"
Even though he still had a smile on his face, I looked down and realized how much pain that balloon must be having.
I replied, "We should just put this lil' one out of its misery; like you did to that dog you accidentally hit with your car last month."
"Maybe when your lazy mother can get a job again," he smiled at me, with deep sympathy in his eyes. I could tell from just the tone of his voice and the way his eyebrows seemed to be frowning, that it hurt him that he couldn't give this petty treat for me.
We still held no groceries to bring home, as we went over to the frozen meat aisle. As I stared at the weird meat called "ground pork", and thought of how much it looked like a brain, Nebraska was looking at some other meat and was scratching at it. Why do they even bother selling such a crazy shaped meat anyway? And who wants to buy meat from the ground? Before I could make another thought, Nebraska quickly covers my mouth with his hand. His other hand slipped something cold and juicy down the front of my shirt.
"Shh, shh, shh," he quietly calmed me, "Just act natural."
Meat blood started to soil my clothes as I shivered. He took off his wooly jacket and placed it around me and it went down to my knees in length. I guessed it was to make me feel less cold or something.
He whispered more things into my ear, and my eyes widened. I didn't know we were planning on doing something like this.
"I'll meet you by the front exit. We don't want to make things too obvious, okay?"
I silently nodded my head.
I watched as Nebraska walked down the freezers and into the aisles where I lost sight of him. I trusted my father, so I accepted everything he was doing. I waited about a minute until my conscience urged me to take the first step towards the exit. I felt like crying, but I am brave, I always have been. I skedaddled through the store, completely unsure of where the exit is. I went through different aisles searching and searching for the doors.
I knew I was lost and began sobbing, while still holding on to the juicy, now starting to defrost, meat. I was scared and felt like I was alone. When I lost track of time, I looked up and saw the grape-flavored packaging sitting on the shelf. The smiling balloon glowed at me saying, "I'll be your friend, Opal. I'll help you find the exit."
