The rest of the week went by in a blur until Friday came. I was reading Catcher in the rye once more inside of my room when the phone rang from the living room I placed the book down and went to go and investigate on who would be calling my house at all. I picked up the receiver and tentatively spoke into who ever was calling us.
“Hello, is this the Rye residence?” A professional female voice answered me.
“Uh, yeah.” I said, having an awful feeling in my gut.
“OK, great. My name is Tina and I am the receptionist that is calling from the hospital. I am here calling you so that you remember that you have an appointment with Dr. Holt at three later on today.”
I froze. I completely forgot about the weekly check ups that I have been forced to go to.
“Hello?” the voice on the other side said.
I snapped out of it.
“Yeah, I will try to be there.” I said. I hoped she didn't detect the lying in my voice when I hung up the phone with her. I began to panic, granted I never wanted to go there at all but what if my absence caused them to think that my father was neglectful and wanted to take me away from him? He was all I have left whether the both of us liked it or not. I looked at the clock, seeing that it was only ten in the morning. My father was out again doing god knows what and I had no way to get to the hospital and there was no way for me to go on the bus due to lack of money I had. Feeling a bit useless, I had no choice but to not go to the hospital anyways. So with that realization that dawned on me, I walked back into my room and proceeded to read the book that was starting to be more and more interesting by the minute.
An hour went by and I heard the familiar car drive into the car port of our house. I knew who it was that came into my home without having to check outside of my room. I knew it was my father, but the question is, why did he come home so early? He normally comes home in the middle of the night and back out by early morning. My question was soon answered the moment he banged on my door so loud, I thought that the door was going to come off it's hinges at any moment. Feeling a bit scared I decided it was best if I answered the door sooner rather than later. Once I opened my door, my fathers hands shot out and grabbed me roughly out of the room and continued to drag me out of the hallway and down the stairs. I did not complain nor showed any signs of resistance when he did this sort of thing to me. I just went with the flow of things when he was like this.
Although I did wonder where he was pulling me to this time. It wasn't until he pulled me out of the house did I realize what his intent was. Was he finally going to take care of me? I thought to myself. Something inside of me couldn't help but feel a bit happy and hopeful that my father finally showed some love to me, his own child but another part of me felt scared and unsure. What if he wasn't going to take me to the doctors? What if he was going to take me to the bar and force me to drink or do drugs with him? Images of me trying to politely turn down multiple needles and bottles filled my mind as my father roughly pushed me to the passenger door. I opened the passenger side and situated myself, before my father did the same thing in the drivers side. In a nervous habit, I played with one of the many vodka bottles that laid on the car floor below my feet in hopes that it would calm me down. It was a fruitless effort because I later found myself chewing on my thumb rather harshly as my father started the car and began the process of driving.
I peered at my father and soon regretted it. I could tell he was drunk by the way his eyes was bloodshot. His skin looked much more sickly pale unlike his usual healthy skin tone that he had. By the looks of it, he looked like he was going to come down with something and all from doing what he did for the past six years which was drugs and alcohol.
His driving was worst then the last time, true he did sped up like a fucking maniac but this time he sped and went into the opposite lanes which almost resulted into another car crash. What is up with me and getting into car crashes? I thought to myself as I tightened my grip the edges of my seat. Its not like I am the one driving in the first place! Its usually other peoples lack of driving skills that resulted in me getting hurt.
During the process of him driving, my father hollered some swear words, flipped people off and almost got pedestrians hurt on the road. I cringed inwardly at his reactions. There is no doubt in my mind that there will be cops coming after us and taking my father to jail and me to Juvie because I might as well be an accessory to his crimes anyways. At this point I wondered if he even knew where he was going or where the hospital is. That is, if we even make out ALIVE.
Fifty minutes went by and we finally made it to the parking lot of the hospital. I checked the time on the dash board only to be surprised that it was twelve fifty one and I was a whole three hours early. I heard a noise coming from the driver side of the car and turned to look to see my father getting up and out of the car. This made my stomach sink even lower to the ground. I knew that it would be a bad idea for him to go inside that hospital with dozens of professional people walking around in there. But then again I just hope that they won't detect any alcohol on him and think that he is just sick, or maybe not.
“Well? Are you coming or not?” he said to me. His tone wasn't harsh but it wasn't soft either. It was more of a tired tone of voice. Like he hadn't slept in days at a time which was probably true considering that he does party and drink a lot at the most strangest hours of the night and day.
I answered him by unbuckling my seat belt and we both went inside of the hospital.