Dad

When Dad comes home it is already after 11 and he is drunk. Not the nice kind of bussed or funny drunk, but pissed out of his mind. He fumbles for a few minutes at the door before I have mercy on him and open the door for him. Only to be nearly hit in the face by him falling through the door. I look down at what has become of my father, but when he doesn't get up after a minute I roll him on his back with my foot, he is nearly insensate and blearily staring up at nothing. I don't think he even notices me, his eyes are moving but they don't seem to focus on anything. In another life, I would have left him there, gone to bed and tried again tomorrow, only to meet the same result, but my new resolve stops me from giving up that easily.

I take off his shoos, they are old and stink like the rest of him, but at least they seem to be functional. Sadly, I can't say the same for his coat which smells like cheap alcohol, vomit and some kind of sweetness that makes me gag and has quarter-sized holes. I don't think I can salvage it but we probably can't afford a new one. The rest of his clothes has fewer holes but the smell is just as pungent and I can barely bring myself to touch them while I drag Dad's unresponsive form to the living room. Dad starts to prattle about something but even my enhanced hearing is unable to pick up what he is talking about if there are any real words in his mockery of the English language. When I try to heave him into the old armchair he starts to flail his arm and only my new strength makes it possible for me to keep hold of him. When he is finally positioned in the chair I am sweating buckets and my hair is all messed up from his waving arms.

We have learned in Bio that alcohol is a substance that becomes less potent when diluted. We don't have any food, but there are some teas, the last remains of my mother's stock, I can make for him and maybe some water will be useful as well. While setting the kettle onto the stove I am thinking about the fact that my new powers seem to be useless in most situations but pretty much perfect to take care of a drunk. Enhanced strength and reactions to heave a reluctant person around without too many difficulties combined with an urge to cook and clean. It like I gained the power of the ideal housewife, beauty and filial pity included. It says a lot about my life that even the powers gained from the worst day of my life are more of a help to others than myself. It's like God's final fuck you to tell me to give in and forget everything my mother taught me about being an independent woman.

No, I won't give up, my powers may not be useful or cool in the way other powers are, but they are mine and they have given me another chance at life. It is up to me to make something out of this and prove that I can be someone, someone worthy of having friends and being cared fore. And I will prove it tomorrow, I will go to the Charity at the North Baptist Church tomorrow, not to eat, though I will do that as well, but to help and prove that I can accomplish something good with my powers.

When the water reaches the boiling point I add the tea infuser and carry the Kettle, two cups and a bottle of water to the living room. Dad hasn't moved much since I have left but at least he is still awake and with some difficulties, I can get him to swallow at least a few gulps of water. It like feeding a baby, a big baby that reeks of alcohol, but he is just as much help as I imagine an unwilling toddler would be. Maybe a toddler would be preferable, toddlers are cute. Trough I don't remember ever really interacting with a toddler, I have only seen them from afar and Mum couldn't get another child after complications at my birth.

For a short few moments, I think about simply taking some money from my Dad's wallet. It would be so simple and I could just be done with this, I am 13, barely even a teenager, I am not supposed to be the caring and responsible one. Dad should be the one to take care of me, not the other way around. But I can't bring myself to take the easy way out, I know if I do this once I will do it twice and then there will be nothing to stop me from doing it all the time.

Starting my new life by becoming a thief is not part of the plan, even when it is only enough money for me to take care of my most basic needs. I want to be better, better than the traitor Emma has become. That is what I am telling myself for the next half hour while I try to get as much water and tea into Dad as I can. It is not working well, but at least his eyes have regained some focus and his swearing has become more articulate. I sometimes forget that my Dad used to work as a Fisherman but at times like this his vocabulary is truly impressive.

When he is finally able to recognize me and the situation he is currently in, I can see the guilt and shame in his eyes. He doesn't meet my eyes. He doesn't say anything. He just sits there like the world itself is pressing him in this seat.

"Dad I need money to buy groceries and new clothes. There is nothing to eat in the kitchen and all my clothes are a few centimeters too short. I will also need new shoos soon, mine have holes and winter is coming."

I think at this moment he hates himself enough for both of us which is probably why he agrees to my demands so easily.

"Alright, gi.. give me my wallet." His voice is weary and heavy and barely understandable.

He tries to sit up straight but nearly keels over and decides to stay slouched to keep his balance. He doesn't look at me but still gives me everything he has left inside his wallet. Almost 70$ is a lot of money for us and I don't even want to know why he has this much money on him. It is probably only because he is a publicly known member of the Dockworkers that he has not be robbed blind by now.

Dad's movements are slow and shaky when he rises and leaves for his bedroom. Like he has aged a dozen years in a few seconds, no longer a young man but a geriatric instead.

I stay seated at the couch until the remains of the tea have cooled to room temperature and only then do I rise, clean up the table and leave for my room. It is quiet enough that I can hear the sounds of the night outside and the low sobbing from the next room. It takes a long time for me to fall asleep.