Lighter

t w e n t y - s i x

look at the wonderful mess that we made,
we pick ourselves u n d o n e . . .

⚡️⚡️⚡️

"Date of birth?"

I gave the month, day, and year in digits to the woman behind the glass at the pharmacy drive-thru window. Her baby pink lips lifted into a small smile after confirming my birthday, then she disappeared to get my prescription.

I've come to know her face since she's usually the one working whenever I have to get a refill on my anxiety medication every two to three months. During my younger years when I'd come pick it up with my dad – still being a minor and all – she would often show a look of both shock and sympathy. Nowadays, it's more like back again, huh? as if she understands what I'm going through. Maybe she does. Maybe not.

It was only a minute or so when she came back, a small white paper bag in her dainty hands that I knew held yet another bottle of pills for me. She told me the amount and slid it into the drop-box, the little door opening for me. I gave her my debit and insurance cards, signed off on the clipboard in the designated area, then took my bag. Once she went through with the purchase and my cards were given back to me, I was good to go. She left me with almost the same smile she greeted me with.

It had to have been possibly the longest Monday of my life.

It started off with a brutal awakening from my sister, claiming that my dad slept through his alarm and wouldn't be able to take her to school. One eye open and definitely two different shoes on, I scrambled to get her there on time, which I did. Then I came back home to find out that my dad was staying home for the day, which didn't really worry me. He took random days off every now and then, just for the hell of it, so I let him have his solo time and spent most of the morning food shopping. That was an ordeal in itself.

I had back to back lectures that started at two o'clock, and the latter never finished until at least six-thirty. Sometimes it would get done a fifteen minutes early on a good day, but that was rare. After my classes, I went right to the gym for a kick-boxing workout and probably burned all my calories for the day, followed by a plan to take a shower and go to bed. So I was almost home when I realized I needed to refill my prescription, and the drive-thru pharmacy wouldn't be open much longer. By the time all of that was accomplished, I'd forgotten I didn't eat dinner and grabbed a smoothie to go from inside the pharmacy, which just contradicted the whole reason why I drove through to get my medication – so that I wouldn't have to get out of the damn car.

I got home, it was dark out, and I was absolutely exhausted. My dad's car was the only one parked in the driveway, while Cheyenne's was missing out front. She was working late for the night and said she'd probably end up sleeping at her dad's place. I personally couldn't care what anyone else's plans were, let alone all the details. If it didn't involve me, I wasn't concerned for the time being.

"Is that my long lost daughter who's been gone all day?" I heard my dad call out when I walked in the house.

"It's me alright," I chuckled in return. The house seemed relatively dark as I headed to the living room, where my dad was resting on one of the couches. He was sprawled out on his back, his feet propped up on the arm of the couch, one sock on and one off. There was a hockey game on the TV but he wasn't really watching it. "What's going on?"

"Not much," he sighed, adjusting the pillow that was underneath of him. "Farrah should be home soon. Haleigh's upstairs doing homework."