Home > Swear on This Life(11)

Swear on This Life(11)
Author: Renee Carlino

“Does he know?”

“What, honey?”

“About my, um . . . um . . .” I pointed to my crotch.

“He was there when your dad came in. He was worried because your dad was in a panic.”

I was mortified. “So he knows?”

“Don’t worry. Just get dressed and meet me outside.”

I did as she asked, walking by my father as he sat at the kitchen table staring out the window.

“Be right back, Dad.”

He didn’t answer, but that wasn’t unusual. Sometimes my dad would have a human moment, like he did when he went to Leila’s. I imagined what he looked like, out of breath and asking for help. It still wasn’t enough to make me feel completely loved by him, but it was enough to make me feel some kind of love for him. Or maybe it was pity. When you’re twelve, it’s hard to know the difference.

Inside Leila’s Camaro, she blasted Guns N’ Roses. She didn’t turn it down or make an attempt to talk to me the whole way to the store.

Once we were inside the store, she threw a package of pads in the basket, along with some granola bars and Fruit Roll-Ups. “You keep these hidden from your dad, okay? Keep them in your room in case you get hungry.”

I hesitated for a moment. “You know that Jax gives me half his lunch, right?”

“I know. I’ve known for a long time. And it’s okay with me. Your dad’s just not functional. He’s in a bad way. It’s just too bad he can’t go back to that functioning alcoholic we all knew and loved.”

I paused. “You mean my dad has always been an alcoholic?”

“He wasn’t an asshole, but he was always a drinker.” She held up a chocolate bar. “I bet you’re craving one of these right about now.”

“Oh god, I would die for one.”

“I thought so.” She threw it in the basket.

“What else did Jax tell you?”

“It’s not my business. I’ve got enough to worry about myself.” Instantly, the fantasy I’d been harboring of Leila Fisher ever adopting me went poof! I thought she was perfect, that she was the kind of person who could never live with herself knowing that I was next door, neglected and starving because of my drunk father. But I realized she knew about everything—the lunches, the meals in the shed . . . and yet she had never stepped in to talk to my dad about what was going on.

Having a bunch of shitty adults constantly letting you down really kills a kid’s view of the world.

Leila grabbed a twelve-pack of Budweiser and carried our stuff to the checkout. “Pack of Camel Lights,” she said to the clerk, and then paid him in singles.

On the way back, she turned the music down. “Now that you’re a woman, you can get pregnant. You know that, right?”

“Yes. We learned it in sex ed.”

“Okay, well, you and Jax better keep your paws off each other.” The way she said that made me nauseous.

“We’re just friends.”

“You were friends ’cause you were just kids.” She glanced over at me. “You’re not kids anymore.”

Time to change the subject.

“Are you sad that Jax and Brian’s dad left?”

She popped her gum. “It’s been long enough. I don’t think about it anymore. Anyway, Brian and Jax don’t have the same dad. You didn’t know that?”

“No, how would I?”

“Jax never told you? Well, Brian’s dad passed away when Brian was two. Car accident.” She looked off into the distance. “He was a good man. Brian’s just like him.” She seemed choked up.

“Is Jax like his dad?”

“Jackson’s dad left, the fucking coward.” She turned and glanced at me, still chomping on her gum. “Sorry, sweetie, that was harsh. Let’s hope Jax is nothing like his dad. Some men can be real assholes when they want to be. It’d be wise of you to learn that now. I do think Brian is going to make a woman very happy someday.”

I was already getting stars in my eyes over Brian—what twelve-year-old girl wouldn’t? When I’d see him drive up in his old car, I’d run outside and sit on the fence. He’d always walk past me, carrying his guitar, and say, “Hey, cutie.” I was way too shy around him to respond. But I also felt sad for how Leila dismissed Jackson’s sweetness just because his father had left. My mother had left too. Did that make me just like her?

When we got to the end of the road, I noticed Susan’s car was parked in front of our house.

“That your dad’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” It was dark and no lights were on.

“I’m not working tonight. Come over. I’ll teach you how to use tampons for when you’re older.”

I hesitated. “I don’t want Jax to . . .”

“Oh, don’t worry. He won’t pay attention—he’s glued to the TV.”

I was nervous. In the two years that Jax and I had been friends, I’d never once been invited into his house. We either played outside or hung out in the shed. As I walked in behind Leila, I realized that Jax’s house was almost an exact replica of my own, except everything was on the opposite side, as if the houses were mirror images. It was dark, and only the light from the TV in the living room lit our path. The brown, outdated carpet was worn thin, and the whole house smelled of stale cigarettes and something else I couldn’t figure out.

   
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