FanFic---> Chapter 32 Part 2

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FanFic---> Chapter 32 Part 2

“Danni, what are you going to be when you grow up?” my father asks me while the rain pours down outside our window.

It’s a perfect day to stay inside, under a comfy blanket, watching one of our favorite movies. Saturday evenings like this is what I live for. I’m curled up next to my father on the large grey couch enjoying his day off of work as much as he is, if not more.

“I’m gonna be a doctor, like you, Daddy,” I reply immediately.

He knows I want to be a doctor, he only asks everyday. He just likes hearing me say it. Ten years old, and I already know my calling. It doesn’t matter that I’m clumsy, nervous, and easily distracted. I’m going to be a doctor, because that’s what my dad is.

“My daughter, the doctor,” he says.

“Danni? A doctor?” Mikey asks as he walks into the room, interrupting our conversation, “You DO remember the goldfish, don’t you Dad?”

We all smile because it’s true. I couldn’t keep my goldfish alive for a week. Plenty of fish-funerals keep me busy on the weekends. I look over to my empty fish bowl on the shelf. I think Dad finally gave up on replacing my steady stream of dying pets. It’s probably for the best.

So maybe I’d never actually be a doctor. I would let my father think that for as long as he wants. It makes him happy. Truth is, at ten, my future career is the least of my worries. I could be a doctor like my dad or a radio DJ like Uncle Steve. I could even just be a mom like April with five-year-old Emma. The possibilities were endless.

“She’s just getting a little practice, that’s all,” Dad says in my defense between light chuckles.

Mikey crash-lands beside me on the couch and sighs, exhausted from the long day. He adjusts his glasses and pulls his brown hair away from the lenses. His hazel eyes dart from me to the TV in front of him. He quickly loses interest, the way fifteen-year-olds do, and pulls his cell phone from his pocket.

Five years keeps us apart and usually that doesn’t matter, but lately he’s been acting like he’s too old, or too cool, or too something. He isn’t paying attention, but at least he’s making an effort to hang out with me like he used to.

We’re settled in, warm, in our old house. I always like the older ones. They’ve got history and creaks and the whole house breathes. Martha Stewart would be greatly troubled by our outdated décor but Dad loves it because Mom decorated every room. I think Mom would like that we keep everything the way she left it, but I don’t think she would like the layer of dust that covers all of her picture frames and knick-knacks, from five years without a good dusting. This is simply the result of leaving the family home to three men and a lazy daughter. But to us this is home, exactly the way it should be.

The sun hasn’t been out all day, with the rain and what-not, but it looks like the sun is finally down for good today. As summer comes closer, the days have been getting longer and longer, leaving time to run free outside. But today, today was a day for staying in. It becomes later and darker, my bedtime is long passed. The best part of the movie is coming on when the front door opens behind us.

“Well fuck you too, Jackson! Fuck you too!” Gerard shouts out the door and slams it shut.

I can hear a car speed off into the distance. His words are slurred and messy as he stumbles toward us. From across the room I can smell the alcohol on him. His entire body is soaked from the rain, or spilled alcohol, or both.

“I bet you hate me too, don’t you?!” he shouts to the three staring people, but quieter he mumbles, “I hate me too sometimes.”

Mikey stands up, about to take him to his room, but my father stops him with a tired look in his eyes, “No Michael, I’ve got him this time,” Dad says.

He stands up, and walks toward Gerard who is plastered to the point of passing out. He leads him down the hall in the dim light with one shoulder propping him up.

“What kind of example are you setting for your brother and sister?” my father asks, as they stumble further down the hall together, their backs to Mikey and me.

“He can do whatever he wants,” Gerard says, “I don’t fucking care. If he’s anything like me he’ll be one hell of a guy…one hell of a guy.”

I look over at Mikey who is calm, having seen Gerard and his episodes a few more times than I have. He just watches me, unphased. I realize Gerard is something much more pathetic than I ever cared to think. It’s strange. It’s so strange. It’s sickening.

“Come here,” Mikey says holding his arms out for me, sensing my unease.

I quickly hurry over to my older brother. He keeps one arm around me, and turns the volume on my movie up higher, higher to cover the sound of Gerard’s heaving in the bathroom.

“It’s just Gerard. It’s okay,” Mikey tells me, “It’s just Gerard.”

Kandy- 19-10-15-5
Mikey- 24-15-20-10
Gerard- 27-18-23-13