Moving On

                Evie took her father’s rough, clammy fingers in her hand.

                “C’mon, daddy…” she said. The pair headed off in search of Vanessa who was sitting at a table in the living room, staring out the window absently.

                “Vanessa, we need to talk,” Rick said. His voice was soft and tender. He loved Vanessa, Evie knew that. Vanessa looked up at him with wide, pale eyes and a vacant smile.

                “What is it darling?” she said.

                “Well…Evie and I-“

                “Evelyn.”

                “Right, Evelyn and I just had a chat. We think it’s time I get some…professional help,” Rick said. Evie silently praised Rick for is tactful word choices.

                “Don’t be silly Rick! Just a little more time, and-“

                “Mom, stop it. Dad needs help. We can’t keep living this way,” Evie said. “I love you. I love you both but…I’m just a kid, mom. I can’t deal with this forever, none of us can…we just have to stop pretending.”

                “Do you know how embarrassing that would be, Evelyn?” Vanessa said softly.

                “It doesn’t matter anymore, dear. It’s more embarrassing that we can’t take care of this,” Rick said. Evie hadn’t seen him this steadfast in a long, long time.

                “Rick…” Vanessa said, holding out her hands to him.

                “I’m sorry Vanessa but…it needs to be done.”

After that, Rick and Vanessa had sat on the phone all day, calling rehab centers, planning visits, dates, mapping out the programs. Evie had sat, watching the news while her parents conversed in the background. Two men had been killed from here, and recently, too. Flashes of faces from around the town flickered through Evie’s mind like the broken slates of a projector. And yet, all she felt was relief. Relief that her family was no longer a prison, relief that her dad would get better. Relief that maybe…just maybe, they would go home. And then, after the phone calls, Evie and her parents gathered all of the alcohol in the hotel. They each carried several bottles in their arms, cradled. The three of them paraded down Motel 6’s creaky stairs and out to the dumpster. Evie’s dad pushed open the lid and they each repositioned their bottles.

                “On the count of three,” Evie said. “One…two…three!” And they tossed the bottles. The sound of smashed glass and metal went rang from within the dumpster. To Evie, it sounded like the sweetest of orchestras.

What to Do

     When Evie woke up that morning, she knew what needed to be done. At three in the afternoon, she approached her father. He was only mildly tipsy, his speech not yet slurred at that point.

                “Daddy?” Evie said. “Daddy, I need to talk to you.”

                “What is it, baby?” Rick’s face was guilt ridden, stricken and haunted.

                “I know mom doesn’t want you to but…I think you need help, daddy. I think we need to get you into rehab or something, anything. I’m not happy anymore and I know you and mom aren’t either.”

                Rick stared at a hole in the wall opposite him. His chapped lips were half parted and his thin hair stuck up in all directions.

                “I…think you’re right.” Rick said. His voice teetered on the edge of anxiety, an edge Evie, for her sake, didn’t want to push him off of.

                “What should we tell mom?” Evie asked, speaking in the voice one might use when approaching an injured animal.

                “The truth,” he said.

Wrong

Sunlight the color of ripe tangerines streamed through the high windows. Everything glistened subtly, clean and welcoming. A girl ran through the panels of light, squealing, sunshine bouncing off of her deep red curls and spraying the walls in warmth. Her laughter rang throughout the entire hallway. A man in his early thirties was bounding after the girl, a wide grin stretching his handsome face, splitting it with dimples.

                “I’m gonna getchu!” He called, grasping the little girl around her tiny waist and lifting her high into the air…

Evie opened her eyes, slowly. The figures of a happy girl and healthy father danced across her mind- a long forgotten dream. Her head throbbed. It was as if the happy times were beating against the inside of her skull, rallying for a release Evie could not give. She wasn’t that little girl anymore and her father wasn’t that happy man. He was a shell of a man, rotten and brittle to his core. Evie never knew what went wrong, just that something did.

                But she was tired of it. Sick to her stomach, nauseous with secrets and lies and this motel which felt more like a cage than a home. In fact, she was done. Obviously, coming to this rotten town had done nothing to help her family. She swung her legs out of bed, ignoring the throb of protest her head provided. She stood slowly, still dizzy from Rick’s blow to her head the other day.

                “Mom?” She called. Vanessa entered the room quickly. She looked guilt stricken. Evie could understand that- after all, Vanessa had been so insistent about hiding Rick’s drinking that she had forgotten about protecting her only daughter- Evie.

                “What is it sweetie?” Vanessa trilled in her tired voice. Once upon a time, that voice had been happy, proud.

                “I think…I think we should leave here. This town isn’t helping anything and I miss home…mom, I want to go home. Please…” Evie felt like a child pleasing to go home after a particularly long spell at the grocery store. This was so much worse.

                “Evelyn, honey, you don’t understand-“

                “No, mom. I understand more than you think. Dad is SICK, okay? This isn’t normal, this isn’t okay! Hiding it won’t fix anything. I don’t know anyone here, I don’t like this stupid town and I miss our house. I miss being at home. You promised this wouldn’t be permanent but it’s been WEEKS and every time you assure me things are okay, they just get worse!” Evie exploded. She was panting, heart hammering in her chest. Thud thud thud thud. She couldn’t breathe properly and her hands were shaking. She just wanted to go home. That was all. Even if it was a visit…why was that so hard?

                “Evie, this has been hard on all of us.” Vanessa said. Her eyes had shut Evie out. This wasn’t her daughter she spoke with. Just one more person.

                Evie stared at her mother, lost, before flinging herself out of the room. To her surprise, her mother didn’t call after her. She ran hard and fast, wanting to escape the bullshit. Her feet dug into the rough asphault of the street. She could feel tiny cuts opening on the soles of her right foot. Finally, she stopped, gasping for breath, tears spilling down her cheeks. She leaned against the glass window front of the Sunset Grill. A woman, on her phone, speaking in a surprisingly southern accent, exited the door to Evie’s left. She jumped involuntarily, watching the woman she recognized as Spring Patterson. Evie was so focused on Spring not noticing her that she didn’t hear what her conversation was, she didn’t notice the shocked expression on Spring’s face. She curled her legs up to her chest and wiped her nose on a sleeve. She hated everyone. She hated this place. Most of all, she hated her mother. When would it all end?

Reality Check

Cool water trickled along the edges of Evie’s temples. The sensation of a rough, damp rag being slowly dragged across her forehead could be determined through the muggy mess of Evie’s battered mind. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. Light spread across her vision, blurring the outlines of reality. She blinked, once, twice, three times.

                “Mother?” Evie said. Her mother stood over her, a concerned expression plastered across her stern and wizened face. A soft moan escaped the corner of the room. Evie turned her head, slowly, dazed. Rick stood in the corner, clutching handfuls of his short dark hair. His eyes were squinted up tight as if to fight off some invisible pain.

                “What happened?” Evie asked, alarmed and disgusted all at once. She reached for her neck, trying to clutch at the small golden locket her father had given her. It wasn’t there.

                “Mom, where is my locket?” Evie asked in a calm, strained voice.

                “Evie, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vanessa said, clearly frazzled.

                “My locket? The one dad gave me?”

                “I’m sorry sweety but your father never gave you a locket…”

Evie wracked her brain for information. There was a beast, a mugging, the other world. And her father. Her father! He had been sick, but now…

                “What happened?” Evie asked. Evie’s mom looked conflicted, her face contorting.

                “Your father…threw a bottle…it hit you. You’ve been asleep for two days.”

                “I’m so sorry Evie…” her father whispered. His voice cracked and fell away like shards from one of his rum bottles. “I just can’t seem to…” but his voice cut off. Evie rolled onto her side, struggling with the idea that everything which had happened in the last week wasn’t real. Wondering the same thing she always wondered- why was it, Evie was always the one to take on her father’s ghosts?