Sweet Sixteen

My Dads a drunken gambling cocaine snorting lying cheating self-centered bastard. Probably why Mom left him but she left me too, what does that say? For years I have been taking care of his colossal fuck-ups. Last year he almost lost the house, the only thing Mom left us. It took nights and weekends just to pay his debt and he has never thanked me. I cook and clean and take care of a man child. My life as a teenager isn't the stuff of dreams, its the stuff of spiritual sadistic torture. Quality of life is relative where I live and it's decline, of late, is at a rapid plummet. My Dad's friends come over almost every Friday night to play cards, drink and fill the house I just cleaned with cigarette smoke. Friday's are especially full of fuck you because I have to cater to his delinquent friends with the occasional kid from school. For some strange reason, some of the boys at school think my Dad is awesome. They gamble, talk shit all night and drink like fish. My role in this house is slavery and parenting, lucky me.

It's April. Easter is right around the corner. I'm not a holiday or family person but this year it fell on my birthday and it's Friday. After school, I must clean the house, prepare the food, ready The cabinets with liquor and make myself seen but not heard as I am sure my Dad doesn't want to be reminded he is stuck with me. When I was younger, and my Mom was around, I remember my birthday was full of gifts aplenty, candles and smiles. These days, a forgetful reminder after the day has passed and a nod of recognition. Today felt slightly off. I didn't want to go to school, not unusual. I did not want to do any chores and fought myself through the ritual. From room to room I gave the house the elbow treatment of deep cleaning and detailing. The bathrooms looked brand new. The kitchen smelled like cleaning products. I thought, " This is what a mob bosses house would look like after a job". The "Man Cave" was set with food, new playing cards, ashtrays and all the alcohol they could throw down on my birthday. This scene is a teenagers wetdream waiting to go live on social media yet, its just for rat bastards and delinquent derelicts. Never really enjoyed the smell of the "Man Cave" nor The decor. Couldn't honestly say I had the care or energy to make it comfy either. Four walls and some cabinets with a fridge and two exits. One from inside the house and the other directly outside of the house onto the street. All of the sad sorts walk in through these doors like the dirty secrets they are. Fucking losers.

After my prefunk duties were done there was the matter of getting Dad to shower and smell like a human. Getting a grown man ready on my birthday for a party im not invited to is possible the saddest country song to date. I walk the long hall towards his bedroom. Holding o the frame, I daydream of just walking out of the house and leaving him here to rot in his own filth. I'd like to think I'm a good person. These are just thoughts and I'm less motivated to put those thoughts into action. When I knock at his door he falls out of the room 100 proof. The night has begun, so says the smell. While Dad was taking a shower, the minion's arrived. The Fat Man is the most polite but the marine looking baby rapist always seemed on edge. The surprise guest was a boy from school I had a mini-crush. They sprawled out cursing at one another, suspending any polite thoughts of wishing me a happy birthday, pouring drinks while telling stories of when time was good, unlike today. "Hey kid", the baby rapist says casually to me while undressing me with his eyes. " Where's your old man"? I shrugged my shoulders and quickly blew by him so the conversation would stop, he's creepy. "Hello young lady", says the large doughy gentleman who eats the fridge whenever he's here. I nodded and continued my b-line to Carter.  " I did not know you lived here. The big guy is a friend of my uncle's. He asked me to tag along for guys night". The more he spoke, the more he became unattractive, strange. I stood, for what seemed hours, listening to him rant about poker, being a nephew and trials of getting older with more responsibility and not a single breath delivered towards me or school or anything about why I'm here. Full confidence about himself and his night, my uterus shriveled. I smiled through the painful one-way conversation until my Dad blew through the doors, " let's Fucking Play"! And the night began.

                                    II