Dirt

2

Princeton

After discounted and left behind cold cuts, we had spent the rest of the evening huddled in the basement of the YMCA playing pool until the building shut down and parted our ways. 

That had been two days ago. Two days with barely any contact from Roger other than a text or phone call he was still locked at home in an attempt to -his words- 'civilize the foreigners'. Obviously, we understood what he was saying, he didn't know when he could sneak out of his now full house, and we made sure to correct him on how awfully incorrect his statement was. The foreigners and more that is.

Cedar had spent those two days fantasizing about how hot Roger's niece was, how he would get her to fall for him. Raine spent his two days working from six to four at the auto factory then got off in time to pick Cedar and I from summer school, drop me off at my next shift, and go read his summer requirements for fall courses.

Basil spent his two days working the afternoon shift at Landlester's famous 'Doll Bakery'  before doing his summer reading too. Cedar spent his mornings working at McDonalds until he got off to attend the afternoon summer school program at our high school. Retaking half a credit of Chemistry. He wasn't dumb -not entirely- just easily distracted. I spent the two days re-shelving book and serving coffee at West Creek, attending the afternoon summer school to retake algebra two and Chemistry before working closing shift at McDonald's.

What Roger had spent his two days doing was absolutely beyond us. He refused to elaborate on the new family dynamic in his house. 

"Dad!" My teeth clatter, my body, and voice shaking with cold and anger, but my voice still booms through the trailer. I fumble with my towel of the week, my hands red from the cold water, "Why didn't you pay water? That was part of your bills of your last paycheck!" I know he can hear me from behind the door, I know he was supposed to pay two weeks ago.  

Jaw grinding, I try to dry myself off as possible, the longer the cold water is stuck on me the longer I freeze with every breath of air. Drips from, my darkened, still soapy with half washed shampoo, hair drop on my back like Dad was personally driving icicles in my back. 

Still shaking, and still without a response from Dad, I shove myself in my work uniform of a green polo and khakis. Scrubbing my head of as much soap and water, I sigh, give up, and toss my towel over the shower rod. 

"Dad!" My hair gets the abuse of anger feeding off Dad's selfishness, my head hurts with every scrape of my brush, but pounds with the throb of stress running through my mind. The coldness stays, not in the lack of water but with my own harsh staring in the speckled mirror. 

Three weeks. We were at least three weeks late on the water for them to actually cut it off. Dad was paid one day before the bill was sent, I reminded him to pay when they called and sent the warning letter on the last payday. I specifically remember slapping the letter on his lap while he watched tv on the couch. He said something about how he hasn't spent a single dim of his paycheck yet -a poor bullshit lie that offends me he thinks I don't know better- and once his show was over and the next bus came, he would go pay all the bills he was responsible for. 

Water and half of rent. That's it except groceries here or there and bus fees. I should have known he wouldn't pay all the essentials, his shows were on all the time but we haven't had gas in a week.

The only reason he was watching tv was because I paid for Netflix and the internet to get school assignments done, our prepaid phones, gas, rent-everything. Dad lost his spot as breadwinner so long ago. I cleaned up his bills when he didn't pay, like now, but too often was I too late or too broke. I was taking less and less from my paycheck for savings. I could barely afford the tab at the bar.