sharkbait \\ h.s

10

My dad stumbles into the house at six pm sharp. I hear his boots stomp heavily across the hardwood floors, and a flopping sound signifies that he is planning on sleeping on the couch.

But I'm not letting that happen.

I throw on the basketball shorts I was wearing before I took them off to go to bed and walked into the living room. "Dad," I said, trying to sound threatening but just coming off scared.

His eyes open slowly and go wide when he sees me peering down at him. "Hey, sweetie," he says lazily. "Go to bed, would you? Your father is exhausted."

I scoff. "Are you fucking joking? Where the hell have you been?"

"You think you can talk to me like that?"

"Yeah, I do, actually."

"I am your father."

"You sure?"

He sits up to face me, his face sagging under his eyes and mouth. Back to bulldog, I guess. "What are you saying?"

"You were gone for three weeks," I say. "You said you were going to Folsom for a few days."

"I did go to Folsom."

"What the hell is in Folsom that you needed for three weeks?"

Instead of answering me, my dad shakes his head and lies back on the couch.

"Un-fucking-believable." I walk back into my bedroom, not bothering trying to slam the door to annoy him.

"Swearing is ugly!"

"So is lying!"

After trying to sleep and failing, I decide that I need to get out of this house. I dial Harry's number and press the call button. It rings twice.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Harry." My voice is shaky and I try to calm my nerves by playing with the hem of my shirt.

The sound of a chair squeaking against flooring comes through Harry's end, followed by what sounds like a woman speaking. Harry's voice is muffled when he speaks again. "I gotta take this." Then he comes back to me. "Hey. Sorry, California. What can I do for ya?"

I sigh. "My dad's back."

"That's good." I sigh again. "Isn't that good?"

"Of course it's good..." The lights flicker in my room. "It's just... He's just being kind of mean. I don't want to be here with him right now."

Harry takes a sharp breath. "You're not afraid of him are you?"

"No. I just... don't want to be here with him right now."

"Do you want to come over here?"

"To your house?"

"Yeah, I mean, if you want."

My nerves skyrocket. "I, uh, yeah. I'll come over. I'll be o--" Something hits me as I stand from my bed. "I don't have a car." I usually have my dad drive me places; I could always rely on him before. But in his current state of "exhaustion," I'm sure he's not up to driving me anywhere.

Harry gets muffled again; his hands covering the speaker. "No. Just hold up, alright? I'll be back in a minute," he says to someone else. "You there, still?"

My shirt rips where I was tugging at a loose string. "Fuck," I say louder than intended, forgetting for a moment that I'm on the phone. "Yeah, still here. Don't have a car."

"I can come get you."

"No."

"Why?"

"Harry, no," I say with the least bit of sternness in my voice. I want him to come pick me up; I want to be in his car with him and never stop driving. Harry has done so much for me in the last few of weeks, and I already owe him too many favors I'll never be able to actually do for him. "That'd be so wrong of me to ask you to--"