Squeak

What's Family For?

Jezebel

"Erik, why aren't you getting ready for school? I asked as I put the finishing touches on my hair. He was sprawled out on his stomach in my newly made bed. "What did you say?" I asked when he mumbled his response.

"Go without me," Erik groaned, face buried in a pillow.

"But I wanted to go to Starbucks," I argued gently.

"Take my truck," Erik mumbled sleepily.

"I-I can drive your truck?"

"Yeah, whatever. Just leave me the hell alone."

"Can I have some money?"

"You women are all the same. All you guys want is money. My wallet's on the dresser."

I swiped his wallet off the dresser and mimicked him under my breath while I emptied his wallet. I took $300.00 and his debit and credit cards. I left him with $5.00 just in case of an emergency. "Are you coming to school at all today?"

"Yeah, I'll be there around lunch."

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"No, I'll walk. Leave me alone, Jezebel."

I rolled my eyes and took that as my cue to leave. He always called me Squeak, so I must've really been getting on his nerves. I jogged downstairs, grabbed my lunchbox that Erik packed from the refrigerator, and snatched his key fob from the hook. I had my driver's license, but my father never allowed me to drive unless I was running a church errand for him or had to go to the grocery store. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intimidated to drive Erik's Mercedes. It was worth a lot of money; if I wrecked it, I wouldn't return home.

That's crazy talk. All I have to do is cry, and Erik will forgive me.

I unlocked the vehicle and slid in, sighing as soon as my bottom hit the black leather seat. I buckled in, pushed the button to start, and cringed at the heavy metal music that blared from the speakers. I switched the station to a contemporary Christian station and hummed to the lyrics as I pulled out of the driveway.

***

"Good morning. Welcome to Starbucks. How may I help you?"

"Good morning. May I have a venti Java Chip Frappuccino?"

"Sure. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Hmmm, a banana nut loaf and an oatmeal."

"Please pull forward, and I'll have your total at the window."

Minutes later, I stabbed my straw into my drink and was sent to Heaven. My blissful experience was ruined when my cell phone rang. I checked the caller ID and sighed. It was the skilled nursing facility.

"Hello?"

"Good morning. Am I speaking with Jezebel Holmes?"

"This is she."

"My name is Dr. Adrienne Cuellar, calling from Healing Heart Skilled Nursing. I'm calling to inform you that Mr. Holmes suffered a mild stroke." I took a long slurp from my frappe and burped.

"Thoughts and prayers," I replied dryly as I pulled out of the parking lot.

"Ms. Holmes...we have been in contact with the social worker from the hospital, and she informed us that when she discussed your father's discharge plans, you were very nonchalant. I called you to tell you that your father suffered a stroke, and it's as if you could care less."

"Listen," I said, stopping at a red light. I scooped out some whipped cream topping with the bottom of my straw and sucked it off before repeating the process. "Y'all can feel sorry for that man if you want to, but I'm not shedding any tears for a chronic lifetime abuser. Whatever happens to him is God's Will. Y'all can boo-hoo by that evil man's bedside if you want to, but it'll never be me. I don't want to hear from y'all again unless it's to tell me he's coming home or he's dead."