Every Night (Part2)

As I turned the corner she stood there in the entrance of my room, listening carefully.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to hear that.” I told her while trying to hold back the tears.
“What happened?” She looked confused.
“Oh, nothing we’re just not allowed to disturb my dad.” I said with a relieving breath.
She pranced into my room, excited, and sat down on my bed. She had already changed into her pajamas and was ready to play games and explore my home. I however was ready to sleep, ready to disappear under my sheets and never return again.
“So, what happened?” She asked noticing my red face.
“Nothing, just tired I guess.” I replied trying to convince her everything was fine.

It was her very first visit to my house, and I didn’t want it to be the last. She was the only friend that I could trust at my house. She was the only person I truly believed wouldn’t judge me or my family. Just then my sister bursted into my room.
“They’re at it again,” She said before realizing Patty was over.
“Oh, sorry I didn’t know,” She said then ran right out of my room.
“What was that about?” She had anger in her voice by now.
“Nothing, I told you it’s fine,” I told her with the most reassurance I could scrape up.
“Mhmm, sure,” she said using those big brown eyes I typically cherished.
We had hours to kill before it would be anywhere near bedtime. At least dinner would be ready soon I told myself.

Sure enough my mom called upstairs, “Dinner’s ready!”
It was just what I needed, “Come on, I know you’re hungry, like always,” I said to Patty.
I knew that would distract her. We left my room, her first as a curtisy to all guests. As I shut the door behind me I saw my sister coming out of her room. She caught my eye with her expression of worry. We were both worried that Patty wouldn’t like what she saw. “It’ll be fine,” I told her with that same scraped together reassurance that she could already see through. “I promise,” I said even louder as if it would make the statement somehow more valid.

Dinner was awkward because every five minutes my dad would need something else and just shout it across the house for my mom to bring to him in the living room. Otherwise it was fine, I looked at her with this eye of mystery how she could sit there, happily eating dinner as if nothing was amiss. It seemed to mystify me, but either way I had to do the same. After dinner we went back upstairs immediately. At last the night was almost over, and I could relax in my room with my best friend, away from trouble.
“Come help your dad,” my mom said just in time to ruin my spirit.
“Coming,” I replied unwillingly.
My mom needed help moving my dad so that his back wouldn’t hurt in the morning. Paty tried to follow me downstairs and help, but I told her she couldn't.

Walking down the last step was always the hardest task. I already knew what was coming. There would be no ease that night. But I still had to smile and pretend like everything was fine, or like nothing bad would happen again.

“Take his boots off,” She whispered.
“Mom, please can I go upstairs,” I wined.
“I need your help, maybe we won’t wake him like last time,” She said as calm as always.
I slid one shoe off, then as I grasped the other, I saw him stir. Automatically I flinched. Sure enough he woke up just to see me curl into a ball of fear.
“What’s wrong with you? Can’t even help your mother?!” He yelled angrily.
“No, I swear,” I cowarded.
“Oh, and now you’re scared? Ha, I’ll show you what scared looks like.”
“No, please dad I’ll help.”
It was too late to plead. He was drunk as always so I could barely hear his slurred comments. He used the one boot he still had on this time. As I peeled myself off the floor I saw Patty at the bottom of the stairs, staring.

As soon as I could, I went back upstairs to my room. I didn’t know what to expect. Would she be mad at me? Would she want to leave? MY head was hurting maybe from confusion, or maybe from the hard hit on the ground. I opened the door slowly, I was more afraid of her than my dad.
“What’s going on?” She looked nervous.
“Nothing I’m not used to.” I said holding back my guilt for bringing her here.
“How long?” She said with strength this time.
“A while.”
“Why?”
“All different reasons, I never know why, it just does.”
“Well, are you ok, do you need to leave, or something?” I could tell she was still confused a little.
“No, I’ll be fine, I always am.” I looked down now because I hated these questions, the ones everyone asks when they don’t understand what kind of family you have. Typically when someone started to ask these questions, we would consider transferring schools again, but Patty was different. She wasn’t asking to be angry, she was asking because she genuinely cared. I know it’s hard for most normal people to understand me, but that’s what I liked about her, she always could no matter how strange or wrong I sounded. It wasn’t her fault she came over. It wasn’t her fault she saw me get hurt. It wasn’t her fault for asking those questions that I hated, she just cared, which I guess is a good thing.

“What does he do?” She was so curious, and it bothered me.
“Why do you want to know? It’s fine,” I was so used to avoiding questions like this is was almost second nature. There was a long pause as she began to understand. After a while she looked up at me with her final question.
“How often? “She asked uncomfortably.
“How often what?” I was aggravated and trying to avoid it.
“You know what I’m talking about, just tell me, how often?”
“Every night.”

Every Night (Part 1)

Patricia walked down past Marquette. I called to her, “you missed it!” She turned around in a soft manner as if she knew she had passed up the turn. She was overjoyed to finally see my house; in the two years we had known each other she never got to visit me. We turned the corner in unison. I was trying to direct her toward my house, but she insisted on acting like she knew exactly where it was.

She is about 5’11 taller than most girls my age, but the way she carried herself she only looked to be 5’9. Even though we were the same age, thirteen, we both walked as if the past that we carried said we were eighteen.

We walked the four straight blocks to St. Louis, made a left turn, and then continued on to my house. Her face was enlightened by the sight of the three story house. I unlocked the cast iron gate and let her in. I ran up the stairs, ecstatic to show her everything, my room, the kitchen, the mural in the hallway, everything. She gasped. I told her it was fine to throw her duffle bag anywhere, as she would be spending all night and the majority of the next day at my house anyway.

We had met three years before, at the summer camp next to my new school. My family was always moving around, but this would be my final school. From our first conversation we clicked. She was understanding and interested in things I had knowledge about; we never ran out of things to talk about. Her family life was perfect, two native polish parents that immigrated to give her a better life. She automatically understood me, she made adjusting easier, and continues to make me happy when I'm down.
As she put her bag down lightly next to the couch, I ran to the kitchen to get some water, the walk was tiring. I thought about settling her in my room, but she was still in awe of the downstairs, so I waited for her to get comfortable. I turned on the T.V. and put on a movie. She was more interested in exploring all the messy nooks and crannies of my home.

As soon as she walked in she gawked at the long stair case that leads to the upstairs bedrooms. Then turned her focus to exploring the first floor. Walking into the living room she took her time to touch everything from the worn out burgundy couch, to the TV. sitting in the opposite corner. She turned swiftly around the couch, a marking point to enter the dining room. The golden family table sitting dead center of the room caught her attention, only to be distracted by the large windows occupying nearly the entire adjacent wall. Further into my house is an archway that leads to an enormous kitchen that is dedicated to my mother’s passion for cooking. She was thrilled to whirl around the island in the center of the kitchen. What was normal to me, baffled her. I smirked. 

Once she was settled, I took her upstairs to my room, carrying her heavy duffle bag. When she entered she was more shocked by the dark walls than the actual size of the room.
 “It was my brother’s room, before he went to college,” I said.
She dropped down onto the bed, kicking off her gym shoes. She was the first friend to visit my house in years.

She was amazing, always there for me, to talk, to cheer me up, to encourage me. And she had those eyes, the eyes that are full of reassurance and only know how to tell you everything will be alright. Most people didn't understand our relationship. We seemed to never have anything in common, well on the surface at least. Most people can never understand the bond we have.

My mom unexpectedly entered my room. “How’s it going?” she asked Patty.
“Good, thanks” Patty replied with a smile.
“Good, well I hope you two have fun,” she said on her way out.
“So, what time does your dad get home?” Patty asked me.
“Oh, well hopefully not soon, because then we can’t go downstairs….” I replied elongating everything so that she wouldn't ask any more questions.
“Hey, we can watch a movie in the living room before he gets home, if you want?”
“Oh, ok.”

We left everything in my room, and raced down the stairs. I put on some comedy. Halfway through the movie my dad came home. The moment I heard his boots on the porch I jumped up, turned the T.V. off and told Patty to be quiet. He stood there, almost entirely blocking the door. He always intimidated my friends.
“This is Patty, and we were just going upstairs,” I blurted out in one breath.
“Fine, but get me a beer first,” He replied in an exhausted tone.
Turning to Patty I said, “I’ll meet you up there.”
He waited for her to leave. Then he swung his massive hand in a sweeping motion.
“I said get me a beer!” His voice boomed. I only prayed Patty didn't hear. In a rush I ran to get his beer,
the coldest one all the way in the back, just like always. My mom came down.
“Hey honey, dinner’s waiting, when you’re ready, just remember we have guests,” She said calmly.
“Yeah, just bring me the damn food,” he said while plopping down in the center of the couch satisfied with his beer in hand.
“Go ahead baby, I’ll get the next one,” she said gesturing for me to go upstairs.
Running up the stairs, I touched my face, to make sure it wasn't red anymore.

Independence

A principle that I personally live by is independence to the fullest extent. Independence is a simple value held true in the U.S. To be independent, is to follow your dreams, to fight for your rights to do what you please. I hold this value very close to my heart and chose to live everyday by it. Of course independence is limited by laws and what other values we hold as true. Our choices to do what makes us happy are all powered by holding our independence as a true value.

Doing what makes you feel liberated and happy will hold true no matter the circumstance. For example, in the book The Road by Cormac McCarthy, a father and son are living in a post-apocalyptic world in which very few values have been preserved. Most important to them is to refrain from succumbing to the cannibalism that seems to engulf them. Yet, independence is still respected.  Although under extreme circumstances, one may not see the evidence of independence thriving without society. People do as they please, and fight for the ability to live a free life.

To be independent is to be free and self-reliant. The man and his son are following their self-reliance, and are engaged in a daily battle to stay independent of other dominating people found along the road. Together they show that to be free of cannibalism, ravenous packs of murders, and starvation.