Hold Me Tight

From Chapter 1 Sunday Night"I'm leaving."Dad stands above mein the living room.His eyes areempty black spots.On the floor,I cram my fingersinto the throw rug fringe.The stringstwist and graband hold me tight.My little brother, Dale, is crying.Since he's only seven,how much does he understand?His eyes dart like zigzag lightningfrom Dadto Mom."Be a man, Dale," my dad says.Mom's eyesbulgelike her pregnant belly.She rocks on her kneeson the cold terrazzo floor."Good-bye, Essie-girl," Dad says to me.His brown pants rake bymy skinny legs.He opens the front door.Dark, hotMiami airswooshes in,swallowing upour air-conditioning.Slam."No!"I yank my hands freeand stumble to the hall window.The metal screenpresses into my lips."Come back," I whisper.My breath fogsagainst the closed jalousie.The slanted red car lightsdisappear.Dale whimpers.Mom moans.I shut my eyes.The PoliceI bite my fistto stop the dead feelingnumbing me.I snap open my eyes,crawl to the phone,and snatch it."We should call the police,and they can stop Dadand bring him backbecause it's likebreaking the lawfor him to leaveus!""It's not against the law."Mom lunges over to me.The phone clatters out of my hand.She scoops it upand smashes itback into its cradle.Left Out"Mommy.Mommy.Mommy," says Dale.She doesn't answer."Mommy.Mommy.Mommy." He tugs her shirt."Shhh," I hiss."Mommy.Mommy.Mommy.""Would you stop already!"I shove him.He shoves me back.Mom rolls to her feetand leaves usin the empty hall.Her bedroom door closes.Click."Es?" Dale whispers.I pat his little sharp shoulder blades.I'm scaredtoo.Okay"It's time to go to bed, Doozerdude."Dale goes without a fight.I tuck him in."When will Daddy come -- ," he asks."I don't know.""But -- ""Shhh.""But -- ""Go to sleep, Doozerdude.""Are we going to be okay?""Yeah."I turn off his light."We're going to be okay."I don't believe it.FourDad, Mom,Dale, and Imake four.That's us.Mom,Dale, and Imake three.Are we stilla family?Wandering Through the HouseDad's clothes are missingfrom the laundry basket.The ceramic beer mugsMom painted for himare still on the shelf.But the six-pack of beeris gone from the fridge.His secret stash of black licoricebehind the cornmealand hisPopular Mechanicsmagazinesthat were in the rack by the couchare missing.He left the TV.It must have been too heavyto haul out quick.The new DVD player is gone.But he left us the old VCR.His toothbrush,electric razor, and comb are gone.That rubbery pick on a stickfor his gums.Our radio,our computerand all the cool games,our CDs,every bit of music,except Dale's little kid tapes,are gone.But Dad's cell phone is here.Figures.He wouldn't wantusto be able to callhim.WorkFlick.The light blaresabove his empty desk.Dad's office is cleared out.I drag my hand overthe cold metal desktopand drop into his chair.I spin it fastlike I'm not allowed to.Where will he workbetween sales trips?The room zips by.Doesn't he need our homeat leastto work from?CasingsI lift the curtainand look out the office window.The whole backyard is black.My reflectionbreaks into rectangleson the jalousies.I lean my elbows on the tile sill.The curtain swings back andbrushes my arm.Yuck!I leap up.Roach egg casings are clingingto the back of the material.Some are hard, dark brown,and shiny.The eggs still inside.Others are broken open.Left-behind, empty, hairy sGrover, Lorie Ann is the author of 'Hold Me Tight', published 2005 under ISBN 9780689852480 and ISBN 0689852487.