What I Couldn't Tell Him

38 - Just get in the goddamn car

JAIMIE PERRON

It was late at night when my phone rang. Now haunted by the tragedy last time that happened, I hurl myself out of bed and answer it by the second ring.

"Hello?" My voice is rough from sleep and I try not to sound too worried.

"Hi," The voice on the other side is timid and I immediately recognise it as Jenni's.

"What's up?"

"Sorry if I woke you," she continues and I notice the slurred words, "I've been out all night." She gives a little nervous laugh. My heart starts to slow down again and I roll my eyes to myself. Since that night, she has been drowning her emotions in alcohol. I have never been good at feelings myself, so Im not sure how to comfort her. Lucy is even worse than me so we both answer the phone grudgingly and try not to think about it too much. She should probably have a session with the school shrink.

"Right..."

"I dont have a ride."

I groan openly and lie back on my bed, feeling my eyelids protest.

"Where?"

"Carter's on Hill street." She finishes and I hear a bottle smash in the background.

"Stay there and don't drink anymore." I demand, hanging up.

I pull on a skirt, shirt and boots, pulling my hair into a ponytail. I dont bother with beauty, its too dark and nobody's going to be with it enough to judge me.

My mum doesn't stir and I don't bother writing a note, just to put it in the bin when I get back. Even when I walk past her room there isn't a sound. I almost want her to come out and scold  me, just so I know she is still feeling something. I am used to the lack of attention, with one parent now gone, and one that might as well be gone too.

I open and shut the front door behind me. I climb into the car and look expectantly at my mum's bedroom window, only to see nothing: not even a silhouette in the shadow of the headlights. You'd think I would be used to it by now, it has been years. Still, her ignorance frustrates me but I am long past feeling sorry.

It doesn't take long to get there, the streets are empty now, clearing the way for me. Despite the short time I have lived here, I am familiar with the place and the mess outside of it.

The sign is peeling and wonky, with letters that might have looked bold and exciting withering away. There are groups of disheveled teenagers sharing cigarettes and distracted expressions. She is leaning against the door with a full bottle of something brassy and translucent; she clutches it like a baby. I indicate and she gives me a coy smile, staggering up to the car. Her hair is tossed over her shoulder and her makeup is smeared under her eyes.

"Get in." My voice still tired and exasperated, but I'm trying not to sound mad. I'm not; the least I can do for her is give her lifts, all things considered.

"Thank you," She purrs, swinging her leg onto the seat and closing the door. I wriggle the bottle out of her hands and nestle it on the floor by my feet, just out of her line of sight.

"I was gonna drink that." She pouts, reaching foreward. I catch her hand and move it away and she laughs childishly. I roll my eyes again as she leans back, eyes drooping. Her shoulders drop and I decide not to take her home. Her dad is guilty enough, having been cleared of child neglect charges. He doesn't need to see her downward spiral.

Her mum has been given a court date, and Jenni has to testify. She has asked me to as well, and I accepted shakily. I don't know if I will be around in a year.