Waiting

                Evie shifted onto her left leg, hitching the whiskey and vodka bottles further into her arms. A faint clinking could be heard when the necks of the bottles kissed. Evie was the last in line and the line was long- no matter, though. She wasn’t in any hurry to get back to the shitty motel her and her parents were staying in. Standing in line in the stifling heat of this cramped and tiny grocery store, Evie remembered the night they had reached this place. After driving for hours, Evie’s mom had pulled the car up in front of a rundown motel. The paint was chipped in most places and stained ever where else. The sign was a massive neon purple thing that blinked the words “Motel 6.” Once Evie had summoned the energy to remove herself from the car, the heat hit her like a bowling ball. The whole situation was made worse when she had to half carry, half drag, her father up the stairs to their room- room number 32. I don’t know if you’ve ever had to haul a man about three times your size up many stairs but Evie can attest to its unpleasant nature.

                The cash register dinged, bringing Evie bag to the here and now. Oh joy, she thought dismally. It was almost her turn now. She carefully placed her father’s requested alcohol upon the check-out belt. It buzzed forward and the man behind the register gave her the once over before leering at her. He didn’t even ask for ID, just placed her items in the bag and slipped her a phone number. As soon as she was outside she ripped up the phone number and shivered. Sometimes she hated her father so much for putting the family through this- for making his 16 year old daughter go buy him alcohol. She knew if she didn’t do as he said though, he’d get violent. So she listened. And life went on- it always did…well. Sort of. It would not go on so well if she were dead, Evie decided. However, it was partly her fault things were so difficult at home. Well...not her decided fault. But she knew that who she really was- what she really was –terrified and disgusted her parents. Hence, her father is an alcoholic and her mother is a neurotic.

                Evie began the dreaded walk back home. Home was a relative term, she decided. She didn’t have a home. The house they had lived in was not home, her parents were not a home to her and the shit hole they were living in now certainly was not home. Still, she walked. The heat beat down on her bare shoulders and the bottles clinked together every time they bumped her hip or slid down her shoulder. She walked for what felt like a long time- it wasn’t long enough. Her feet thumped down on the cracked sidewalk with loud slapping noises. She passed a pet shop, a few restaurants, a strip joint, a church. As she was passing the orphanage, a kid pressed his little face against the grubby window and stuck his tongue out, pulling at his cheeks and rolling his eyes in a horrid display. She took a second to return the favor before continuing on her way. As she was passing the Castle Apartments, a bum turned and yelled,

“What will come, will come!”

Evie jumped slightly and ran the rest of the way back to the motel. As she was reaching up to open the door to her room, a loud crash came from within. Then there was crying and silence. How right that bum was, Evie thought. She had no way of knowing what awaited her behind this door, all she knew was that it waited. And soon it would stop waiting.