If I could have anything in the world, I would ask for answers. I ask many questions, lots actually, but I never get any answers. Or the answers I do receive are shit.
"What's for dinner?"
"Well, what would you like?"
Or...
"When's dad coming back?"
"I don't know."
Those are usually the replies. Either another question or a simple 'I don't know'. Sometimes I wish that the answers would come before the question.
"Your dad left because he didn't want any responsibilities."
"So that's why he left?"
That's the reason I try to convince myself to believe. That he just couldn't handle the responsibility of being a dad or a husband anymore. None of us, my mom, me, or his side of the family, knows why he left so suddenly. He left us about nine years ago. Just up and left. Didn't take anything with him; no clothes, his phone, the car, or his debit card. He even left all the money in his account. Why? I don't know. Nobody does.
Sometimes I wake up from nightmares of him getting kidnapped during the night, but that's impossible. The house we lived in, before mom moved us across the state, had an alarm system installed that would go off if any windows or doors were opened past 10 o'clock. Plus we lived in a guarded community, so even if anybody were to try and break in, the guards would've seen them on the cameras and stopped them the minute they got past the fences. But, surprisingly enough, not even the cameras saw my dad leave.
The first few months after his disappearance were the worst. Especially on my mom. They weren't that bad for me because I was seven, but it was still hard. But for my mom? It was bad. When he left, she was six months pregnant with my baby sister. Two months later, she gave birth to a still born. That was her breaking point. She became an alcoholic, started having one night stands with random guys she saw at the bar, I even caught her ODed about four times in the past year. Honestly, I don't blame her. I would have done the same. My dad gave her a reason to live, a reason to smile, a purpose in this fucked up world, and he just walked away. Like we were nothing.
And that's what scares me the most. That's what makes me ask most of my questions.
The fact that someone could have such a massive impact in someone's life, and then just walk away like a kid does when a toy is broken and they get a new one.
I'm suddenly ripped from my thoughts as I hear my teacher yelling at me from the front of the room.
"Jocelyn! Are you even listening to what I'm teaching?" My Spanish teacher, Mr. Sanchez, asks me. This causes people to stare at me. I hate when this happens.
"Yeah, I am." I look at the board where he's been writing everything he's said for the past 30 minutes.
"Then what did I say?" He looks at me like he's just came up with the best comeback in the world.
"How Mexico has the highest gang related violence rate in the world." I answer smoothly. The look on his face crumples and some of the students around me snicker. I hate being a smartass sometimes, but if you're going to come at me like he did, at least make sure you're not setting yourself up for failure.
"Very well," he looks at the clock, probably hoping the class is almost over. It isn't. "Well class, how about I give you the rest of the class period to work on your presentations due next week?"
The class buzzes with chatter and Mr. Sanchez sits back down muttering to himself in Spanish.
"You really are an asshole, aren't you princepessa?" My partner, Sam, asks me as he slides to the open seat next to me.
"He writes everything on the board. It's actually kinda sad how he tries to make students feel shitty for not paying attention." I mumble and get my notebook from my bag.
"You've got a point. So, what's this project about anyway?" Sam never pays attention in class either, so it's not a surprise that he doesn't know what's happening.
"We have to research Chapo Guzman and do a presentation."
"Shit, I don't wanna do that!" He pushes his paper away from him and looks at me after a second of silence. "How would you feel, if I asked you to go to a party with me tomorrow night?"
"I don't do parties." I would actually love to.
"Why not?"
I have to make sure moms going to be okay. "Because I don't like being surrounded by drunken idiots dry humping plants."
He laughs and shakes his head. "Princepessa, just this one time? For me?" He bats his eyelashes playfully. Sometimes, I wish he was my boyfriend, but that can't happen.
"Will you leave me alone if I say yes?"
"I'll think about it, how's that?"
I sigh and rub my temples in fake irritation, "Fine, I'll go."
One of Sam's friends walk over to our table frowning and takes a seat on the table. "Stacy is getting on my nerves." He sighs loudly and covers his face. I think his name is Andrew.
"What'd she do now? Try and jerk you off under the table?" Sam laughs and hits the table causing Mr. Sanchez to give us a sharp look.
The friend smacks his head. "No, stupid. She's trying to get me to invite her to the thing tomorrow night." He looks at me then back at Sam.
"Dude, she already knows, I invited her Josh." Sam laughs again and shakes his head.
I was wrong about his name. Sam has too many friends in this class to keep account of names.
"Oh, well, uh, I hope you show up tomorrow, its gonna be good." Josh rubs his neck embarrassed and stands up. "Sam, what are we doing after school? Still going to your aunt's house?"
Sam stands and stretches causing his shirt to ride up and show the bottom of his stomach. I look away before I start blushing.
"I dunno man. Meet me by the truck after school and I'll let you know." Sam does a handshake hug thing with him before he walks away.
"So, I'll pick you up before the party, around 8 tomorrow night, yeah?" Sam looks down at me and smiles slightly. I guess that means I have no choice.
"I guess," i nod and stand. Even standing full height i have to crane my neck to look at Sam.
"Great, I'll see you esta manana."
The bells rings and he walks away with his friends and Josh. Before I'm able to finish packing my bag, Stacy walks over and stands above me. I silently curse myself for being so short compared to everyone.
Not everyone is taller than 5 foot, okay?
"What did you do to get the invite?" She snarls at me. Up close you could see the layers of foundation shes wearing.
"Nothing really, just sat there and looked pretty, not fake." I smile sweetly at her before walking away, leaving her fuming.
"You little slut! You probably slept with Sam." She yells after me before I slam the door in her face. I can hear Mr. Sanchez scolding her for using the word 'slut' in his classroom.
