Then

Chapter 6

When my mom met my dad, I imagine he wasn't like this. He was drinking then, I know, but he can't have been like this or she'd never have fallen in love, and she'd never have helped him stop. But then, of course, she died. So she turned to the drink again. Not to his 12 year old children, not to help them, or his newborn child, but to a glass of wine. And gradually two, three, a bottle, two bottles. Then, suddenly, so many a day that we started hiding the trash so the neighbours wouldn't judge us. But they knew. Because they had to help him in at 4 in the morning, reeking of alcohol, and yelling at everyone who approached him, or look after Bella when we were at school, because we didn't know whether he'd even be awake to feed his daughter lunch.
A lot of people related to alcoholics say they hate alcohol, for taking the people who meant the most to them. I hate my dad, because I know it was him who took everything away from me and Ben, and Bella.
Kyle and Ben enter the toilet again, I assume to mop up the vomit, leaving me with Dad. I stare at a laminated menu, even though I know what I want. I get the same thing every time I come here - a Burger Burger.
The Burger Burger is the best dish to grace the planet. It's a burger, but the patty is actually a dozen smaller patties. It's cheaper than other meals, and it's always cooked quicker. Plus it's delicious - what's not to love?
10 minutes later, my burger is ready. My dad always has salad when we come here, but Ben's steak isn't ready yet. I start eating anyway - it's been a long day.
"So," Ben says as I eat. "How was your day?"
"Good." I reply, squirting runny ketchup all over my food. "Oh, I was offered a job."
"What?" says my dad, munching on some lettuce distastefully.
I explain about Xzander and the job. Just thinking of him fills me with joy.
Ben smiles at me. "That's my girl!"
My dad, on the other hand, seems quiet.
"What was his name again?" he asks.
"Xzander Bianchi." I say it with an Italian flourish to the syllables.
"You can't do it." He says immediately.
"It's only part-time!" I insist.
"No." He replies. "No way."
"Why?" I demand. "Why do you even get a say in this?"
"No, Dyllon." He says darkly. "You don't want to get mixed up with the Bianchis."
I open my mouth in outrage.
"It's not up to you to decide what I want!" I yell, and storm out of the Piehole.
I'm sobbing - I didn't know I wanted this job this much.
But that's it now. I'll never see Xzander again, and I've just missed an opportunity most business students would give their right arm for.
I'll never see Xzander again.