Prologue
Tawny
Instead of wishing me good luck, it would be nice if everyone would start wishing me to have bad luck. That way,
if it's even possible
, I can
finally
have a day where nothing goes wrong.
In my case? That's probably not possible.
I'm the queen of bad luck, and how this past year and a half has gone for me, I think now would be a good time for me and Mr. bad luck to break up.
A little over a year ago, my mother passed away after a long hard fight with depression. Every day was a hard battle for her to open her eyes and get out of bed. Every breath she took was a struggle. Well, to be exact, it was a violent war. Daily she fought with the demons to get them to allow her to breathe. She'd fight, and fight, and fight, and then when it got bloody, she'd fall asleep.
Instead of continuing to fight the battle and win, my mother gave up, letting depression be the winner.
Depression
; the silent fucking killer.
Then there's my father. My friends and I always knew he was a big pothead. But after my mother took her life, he allowed his life to die with her as well. So instead of continuing with smoking the wacky tobacco, he went a lot deeper and did whatever drug he could get his hands on.
Because of my mother's death and how my father allowed drugs to rule his life, I dropped out of college to come home and to try to save my father from the same demons who took away my mother.
Since I've been home, all kinds of crazy mishaps have happened.
First, after leaving my mother's funeral, I got into a car accident and totaled a gorgeous man's sports car. And it just so happened to be some high-end Lamborghini worth millions.
Just my luck, of course.
Since there was a lapse in my insurance coverage, I had no insurance at the time of the accident, and it fucked me.
My driver's license got suspended for six months, and the judge ordered me to pay an astronomical amount of money for fines, restitution, and the man's medical bills.
Money I don't have.
Money that I'll never have.
And it's an amount of money I'll never see in my lifetime.
I asked for a payment plan to pay a hundred dollars a month until I paid it off. Instead, they pretty much laughed, showed me the middle finger, and said I'm fucked for life.
Well, that part is actually true. I'm fucked.
I feel bad for totaling the man's car. I do. But in my eyes, it wasn't my fault.
It was his.
The overly sexy, panty-melting, vagina-tickling, asshole-of-a-man driving the Lamborghini decided to switch lanes simultaneously as me, which caused us both to overreact, oversteer, and crash into each other—causing us both to flip into midair multiple times.
We were the Ryan Newman and Joey Logano of Nascar. With me being Newman and the jerk being Logano. He's the one who clipped me, caused me to spin out and flip us both high into the air.
He and his attorneys argued until they were blue in the face that I was the one who caused the accident.
Since I had no insurance and no money, the judge sided with the unpleasant millionaire.
Since then, I've been making payments of ten dollars here, twenty dollars there. Hell, I even went as far as making a larger payment of a thousand dollars after hitting a nice chunk of money at the casino a couple of months ago. So if Ian Preston, or whatever the hell his name is, is upset about the small payments. He can kiss my ass.
He's got more money than anyone I know, and I'm sure he got one hell of a payout from his own insurance. So the guy should be tickled pink that I'm at least trying to pay something.
On top of that disastrous mess, I had to deal with my father's issues.
This past year, my dad needed to be rushed to the hospital for suspected overdoses;
I can't even count how many times
. And because of having to rush him to the hospital, I've gotten speeding tickets and tickets for driving without a license, adding additional time to the suspension of my driver's license.
After a year and a half of being without a license, I
finally
got my driver's license back.
Only
now I'm being threatened with losing it again because of non-payment to the money-hungry millionaire.
Then there's my love life. That also went to shit.
A couple of months after I came home from college, my boyfriend of three years decided I was too much for him to deal with. Said I carried way too much baggage and felt the right thing for us to do was go our separate ways.
It sucked, and I was upset. But the more I look back at our relationship. I realized we were growing apart, anyway. He hated I dropped out of college to help someone who didn't want any help. And claimed because of my stupidity, I'll never amount to anything and that I'll never get anywhere in life.
Whatever.
Good riddance, I guess.
My father may be a drug addict who's refused my help and has only thought about himself. But he's still my father, and I'd hate to lose him too.
I've also had issues with keeping a job.
Every job I've had since I've come home has only lasted a couple of weeks.
Why?
My father.
Today I lost another job because of him. And it was the best job I've ever had, one that paid well and one that would've covered my father's expenses for inpatient treatment at one of the best treatment facilities here in Minnesota. Hazelton Betty Ford Addiction Treatment Center.
Because I got fired
again
... I feel like I'm days away from losing my mind, my shit, and my damn sanity.
My father is literally ruining my life. And I firmly believe he cost me my job on purpose so that I couldn't place him in that treatment center.
Maybe it's time for me to come to terms that he wants to die.
I think everyone is right. However, I need to realize I can't help someone who doesn't want any help. And the last person he wants help from is his daughter.
I grew up enjoying being the only child. But now I absolutely hate it and wish I had a couple of siblings to pass my father off to them. This past year of taking care of him ruined me.
It also emotionally and physically drained me.
My friends insist I let my father do his thing and that maybe,
just maybe
, he'll find himself in trouble with the law that he'd put himself in a terrible predicament where the law will put him in a place where he belongs.
I want to do that. Believe me; I would. But if I let my father do whatever he wants, I'd probably get the one phone call I've been trying to avoid receiving. One that would probably sound like this;
Tawny? I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Earlier, your father came to the hospital by ambulance, and with every effort possible, we were unable to save him. I'm so sorry...
I can hear that dreaded phone call already.
Sigh
...
I don't think I can do this with him anymore. If I resume trying to help him get better and he continues refusing my help, I'll end up in the nuthouse myself.
I need a long break.
A very long break
.
"Tawny!" my father called out, sounding like he's higher than a kite.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I can't deal with him tonight.
I need a me night.
A night that'll allow me to forget about my life, who I am, my name, where I live, and where I'm from.
This night is owed to me.
I'm going out, and I'm getting fucked up.
What's the worst that can happen?
