Fifteen Today

Drunk and hysterical, my Father stumbled into the living room and onto his plaid orange recliner. I watched him breathe heavily through the thin crack in the center of my old wooden door. 1

“Gidget!” he tried to yell, but it simply emerged as an abrasive wheeze. 2

I moved from the door to find my shoes in the dark of my small, windowless room. I hurried now to find them. Every second that did not pass was a beating that did not happen. I knelt down, my arm disappearing beneath my bed as I patted around the floor. I finally got a grip on them and pulled them onto my calloused feet, dark from the lack of a thorough washing. I’d gutted the squeaky part out of my left shoe the day before last. He said he hated the noise, but he really hated the noise of me, alive and walking. 3

I rushed to my door, trying not to trip over the many cardboard boxes of clothes that colonized my room. I had no closet in my room, which was the explanation for all the boxes. I didn’t mind them, though. It made it easier to move to another room if I needed to. First, I lived in the living room, then in our carpeted garage, and now in the room that used to be my mother’s study; this was before she lost her job and lost her will to mother me rather than an uncontrollable gambling habit she apparently formed overnight. She’d leave for days, weeks and even months at a time. This was around the time my Father began to drink harder; eight bottles of whiskey a day, and this was also around the time he lost his distinctions of right from wrong. 4

I subtly opened the door, making sure it would not creak. 5

“Gidget!!” My Father had mustered enough breath to push past his wheezing, and shout. 6

“I’m right here, George,” I said, stepping up to his old chair as we heard the short, muffled noise of already broken glass breaking beneath my right heel. That is why I wore rubber shoes. 7

“Come here,” he growled, not even looking right at me. 8

I leaned over him to hear him speak, then closer as he’d requested. He put his hand on the lower part of my back and smiled vaguely. “My dear Gidget,” he said with a sigh as his eyes examined my face. Quickly, though not surprisingly, his hand shifted down and squeezed, pulling me so close that he was exhaling into my nose. “I do not want to have to call you more than once ever again. Hear me, girl?” 9

I could practically taste the alcohol on his hot, wet breath that seemed to dampen my face like a gust of sour steam. “Yes, sir,” I said, staring straight into his lustful stare. 10

“Alright then.” He pulled his other hand from the back of his pants, where he’d been scratching, and grabbed my face tightly, and pressing his flat, tart lips against mine. He suddenly pushed me off him and out of his view of the TV. “The remote!” he ordered loudly, followed by a charge of howling coughs. 11

I fell to my knees and began to rummage through a large, wooden picnic basket on the floor to find it. Everything could be found within The Basket, from bills to socks and shoes. I finally found the scruffy old remote and handed it to him. It only took a moment before he stopped flipping channels. I watched as his eyes began to flutter shut and his grip on the remote began to weaken. The moment the remote fell to the dirty carpet was the moment after My Father passed out. 12

After that, I tiptoed away and into our small, badly lit restroom, locking the door behind me. I stared at myself in the mirror, staring at the deep, dark rings underneath my eyes, and the greenish complexion I’d attained over the past couple of months. I used to be so tan and healthy looking. I’d be looking like that again in no time at all. 13

I reached over and lifted the mirror from the hook, revealing an oval hole in the wall, about the shape of a football. I quietly set the mirror to the ground then reached inside the hole where the mirror had been. I reached deeper and deeper until I felt plastic, and grabbed hold tightly, so as not to let any crinkling noises leave the bathroom. 14

I wasted no time. I stepped up onto the toilet, slowly opening the window above it as quietly as I possibly could. I didn’t even return the mirror to its spot, I just left it there for my father to step on and break. I wish I’d had a video camera to tape it. I wish I’d been there to see it. I dropped the plastic bag outside the window and squirmed out, landing hip-first on the yellow grass, still damp from the storm the night before. I crept along the side of my house, within the dark of the shadows, then rushed into the shed; my dressing room. After I’d locked the door behind me, I lit a small lantern on the ground, and then began to unfasten the bag. My, my, my, how I’d changed over the past year; no longer was I sneaking out of my room and into My Father’s to take up my absent mother’s nightly duties as his wife. In a strange way, I missed those days. They were the only times I’d ever heard him say he loved me … even if my mother’s name did follow. Those nights ended when my mother started returning every couple of days out of the week, rather than every couple of months out of the year. Now, she’d stopped coming back at all, but those nights did not return. No, My Father was much too wasted to do anything but eat, sleep, drink, and drool. 15

I unknotted the bag to reveal my shiny wardrobe. I pulled out a pair of extra short, extra tight, extra glittery, extra red short-shorts and a white, gemstone tube-top. Also inside the bag, were dozens of twenty, fifty and hundred dollar bills. I had about six grand in my precious plastic bag, and I was proud of it, every single dollar. 16

I hurried to pull off my baggie jeans, dark blue t-shirt, panties, bra, and rubber shoes, then heaved on my smelly old shorts and tube-top. I was just stuffing my old clothes over the money in the bag when I heard the brakes of a car squeal out nearby. Right on time, I thought with a smile on my face as I tugged a pair of bright red pumps out from behind a weathered pile of wood. 17

I unlocked and opened the shed door, leaving the lantern lit as I stepped out, barefoot, onto the tall grass that hid all the twigs and rocks I stepped on as I ran across my small backyard. The cold hit my uncovered chest, damp from the humidity in the shed and the rush of excitement that fled over my entire body. I hopped over the short, chain link fence, landing hard on the alley road. The car I’d heard before drove closer, stopping in front of me. It was my dearly beloved taxi. I took one last look around at the backside of the neighborhood I’d been raised in. My excitement grew in that moment, and I turned away and crept into the car. 18

“Hey, Ernie,” I said, taking a deep breath in through my nose, inhaling the sweet scent of leather and cheap cigarettes. 19

“How you doin’ Miss G.?” Ernie asked as he shifted the car into Drive. 20

“Oh I’m just fine,” I said as I turned the car light on and leaned over the front seat to grab my makeup purse that was waiting underneath. I pulled it with me into the back seat and began to apply my thick, red lipstick, staring into my compact mirror. “How’s your night been?” I managed to ask through my puckering. 21

Ernie had been my cabbie every night I’d worked. We’d grown to be very close friends. He often found me some rich guys looking for some young ones. He knew lotsa people. He’d always keep my make-up under the front seat, and even my plastic bag, because he’d always be the one picking me up after work. We helped each other out and most of the time, I didn’t even have to pay for the drive, as long as I’d blow him a couple times a week. That is, unless his tips were low, then I’d give him money and my mouth. Ernie was a real nice guy, just lonely. 22

He had no family, and his girl walked out on him for some lawyer named Bob. Who would leave an Ernie for a Bob? His real name was Robert, so I guess she just liked Bert more than Ernie. I never did like Seseme Street much. Mostly, Ernie and I would just talk about the normal stuff, ya know, movies, music, stuff like that. He liked a lotta jazz—smooth music and such. We had that in common, we both loved jazz. I wanted to be jazz singer someday. What a fun career that would be. 23

Another thing Ernie and I had in common, were our customers. We both got a lotta weirdoes and we both knew exactly where to go to get the customers exactly where they wanted. 24

“I hope I don’t get any big pervs tonight,” I said as I dallied with the last bit of my eye shadow and mascara. “It’s my last night. Hopefully it’ll be a good one.” 25

Ernie made a slightly sad face but it quickly turned into a smile. “Good for you, Miss G. I’m happy for ya. You really deserve to get outta here.” 26

I sighed and pressed my forehead against the cool window, watching as the buildings and trees flew by, their colors fusing to make one smeared gray, green and red mess of a world. I was getting out, too. 27

“Where’re you headin’ again, Miss G.?” 28

“New Orleans,” I said, a smile growing on my lips at the mere thought. “I’m taking the train at six, so you gotta be here by five-fifteen, okay?” 29

“Will do, Miss G.,” he said as he pulled up to my corner. Judy and Delores had already started. Lore was a year younger than me, and Judy was three years older. But they both acted like they were thirty. I guess it was because of all their experience and stuff. “Just leave your things here with me, I’ll be back here right on time.” 30

“Thanks a bunch, Ernie,” I said as I stuffed all my make up back in the purse and zipped it shut. 31

“Miss G., will you do me a favor? Ya know, since you’re gonna be a famous jazzy and all?” He pulled a small, black book from the glove compartment and took a pen from the dashboard. “Can I have the first autograph?” 32

My cheeks burned half a second after he said it. He was such a sweet guy, that Ernie. I’d never forget him. I took it and signed my name with a note that said “Much love, to the best cabbie I’ve ever known and the only one I’ll ever love.” I handed it back to him, then leaned back over the front seat, turning his face to mine. “Give me a birthday kiss, will ya, Ernie? The first one of the day.” I looked at his kind, brown eyes and pressed my lips to his, tasting the nicotine on his gentle tongue. I dropped my make up purse onto his lap just before I broke the kiss. “Remember, five-fifteen,” I whispered, still close enough for another kiss. I couldn’t let our closeness go to waste. I gave him one quick peck for good luck then sat back on my seat, fixing my hair in the reflection of the rearview mirror. 33

“Hey, Miss G.?” Ernie said, stuffing my bag and purse back underneath the seat. “I forget, how old are ya turning today?” 34

I smiled and slipped out of the car, noticing Judy as she caught an old suit. 35

“Hey, girl!” Delores called to me with a wave. “Happy birthday!” 36

I waved back then ducked my head back into the car. Ernie was playing with his watch; I guess he’d given up on the question. “Ernie,” I said sweetly, and he looked at me with those eyes, the nicest eyes I’d ever seen. “Fifteen,” I told him. “I turn fifteen today.”37