Page 2 of Look at Her and Die

There was also Calliope, who was now eighteen. She hated my guts, and it pissed me off to think about her, so I tried to do that as little as possible.

My mom was all alone now since Dad died a few years ago, and we were all on the struggle bus—though, just sayin’, but we were on the struggle bus well before our dad had died.

I had two very different, but still absentee, parents.

Dad had been the “fun dad.” He’d gone to work—a barely above minimum wage job delivering tortillas to about seventy-five local Mexican restaurants in the area—and come home. He didn’t clean. Didn’t fix things around the house. But he always made sports games, had time to throw a ball around in the backyard, and made sure to put a smile on your face.

Two years ago, I was in college taking computer courses, thinking that I was about to finally make a break for myself—get out of the hellhole of Dallas and one day be able to afford more than Ramen Noodles and Great Value bread.

Now, I was back to living with my mother, I’d dropped out of college, and I was struggling right along with her to make ends meet.

I hadn’t wanted to have to cover a mortgage for a house I never wanted to own.

Yet, here I was, working at a diner that I loathed with everything inside of me, losing clients left and right, and being a pseudo mother to my two younger siblings with a mother that was slowly falling apart.

“Mama,” Koda said, catching my mother’s attention. “We’ve got this. Why don’t you head over there early and maybe they’ll get to you early.”

My mother smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

It hadn’t for a very long time.

“I’ll do that,” she replied, shooing the kids toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Koda handed her the keys to the Jeep as she passed and watched as they walked down the street to where he’d parked it.

I grabbed my laptop and shoved it underneath the counter before crossing over to stand next to my brother.

We stared at the empty lot together for such a long time that I wasn’t expecting what came out of his mouth next.

“I’m being deployed.”

I gasped and turned, staring at my brother. “You are?”

“Yeah.” He looked incredibly apologetic. “I’ll be gone for a year.”

I closed my eyes and prayed for the world to swallow me whole.

“Fuck.” I sighed.

“I’m sorry, Searcy,” he informed me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “If I’d known, I would’ve never joined.”

Meaning, if he’d known my dad, the piece of shit that he was, would kick the bucket and die, leaving my mom with a mountain of debt, a failing diner, and no desire to participate in life anymore, he wouldn’t have joined the military.

I patted his shoulder and sighed, “Someone’s gotta chase their dreams in this family. It might as well be you.”

Koda blew out a breath.

“I feel terrible,” he admitted. “Every time I get that late notice in my email, I want to scream.”

A long time ago, we’d learned that if we wanted the bills paid, we had to pay attention to it ourselves.

Mom had shit organizational skills, even worse parenting skills, and the bad habit of not realizing until it was too late that our power hadn’t been paid for the month.

Dad had lived with his head high in the clouds, and likely thought electric was free.

Sometimes, I felt like they stuck their heads in the clouds because it was easier than admitting that they’d failed as a parent.

God, I hated my life.

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