“Morning!” He said, a huge smile on his face. He brought three paper plates of food to the table.
“Good morning,” I yawned.
Seth followed me in and stood next to me. He shyly stuck his hands in his back pockets. “Smells nice,” he told me quietly. He lifted up one hand to kind of fix his hair, then he rubbed his eyes and placed his hand back in its pocket.

Dad danced back into the kitchen and returned with three large Dixie cups and some orange juice. He filled each one. The he pulled out Seth and my chairs, and said, “Viola. I can cook.” He grinned.

I slipped a peice of bacon in my mouth and smiled. “Mmm.”
He sat down and began to butter his toast. “How’d you dream?” he asked looking at me, then at Seth.
“Good,” I lied. Truth is I got really cold because Seth kept kicking the blanket away from me so that he could curl up with it.
“Very good,” Seth responded.
“That’s wonderful,” my dad answered us,. “I’m glad to hear, ‘cause today we’re--” the phone rang and interrupted him. All of a sudden, ice became his eyes. Seth and I looked at each other and back at dad.
“Just a minute.” He set his knife down and bent over to pick up a portable phone which apparently had been lying on the floor. “Hello?” he stammered. “Yeah...oh...oh, crap...okay, okay. I’ll be there.”

He hung up and placed it on the table. Then he ran into his bed room.
“Dad, what happened? Is someone hurt, do you need our help?”
“No, no.” He rushed back out in a pair of sweat pants and a dirty undershirt. He slipped on some untied tennis shoes. “I’ll be back. Can you lend me ten bucks?”
“Yeah, sure...Seth?”
“Oh,” he remembered, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a bill.
“Thanks,” said my dad gratefully. “I’ll pay it back, promise.” He ran out and slammed the door behind him.

Silence struck us.
“Damn,” Seth said in awe. We just looked at our plates. I gnawed on some more bacon. “Think he’ll let me have his toast?” He asked.
I shrugged focusing on a paper towel roll in the middle of the table. “Sure. Why not.”
“Okay.” He reached across and grabbed it, adding it to his plate.

***

He didn’t come back until 2:30 in the morning. Seth and I were sitting on the sofa. He was holding me, and I was crying, scared to death about what may have happened to my dad.

The door flew open, and I ran to him and hugged him, “Daddy!” I cried. I kept hugging without getting any reply or a hug back, and then I smelt it. Alchohol. He’d been drinking. I let go and stepped back as he staggered in and kicked the door shut. He began cursing.

“I lost! I lost!” he slurred. “The biggest bet, four thousand dollars! I’m going to die! I lost! I lost!” He dropped to the ground.
I ran towards Seth and held onto his shirt. “Seth...Seth, what’s going on?”
“I think your dad is a gambler. That explains his lifestyle. When you reunite with your daughter you don’t take her out to eat at The Crazy Taco.”
“And a drinker. He spends all his money on booze and looses it gambling too.”

The next thing we knew, the door was kicked in by two large men, dressed in black sweats and ski masks. The taller one shouted while kicking my dad futher down on the ground, “Jones! Jones, where’s my money?!” Curse words flew malevolently from his angered throat. Nick slurred and sobbed frightfully. One man pulled out a gun.
“I don’t know! I don’t have it! I don’t have it! I’ll get it, I will!”
The tall man step on Dad’s head to shove it on the floor. “I want it NOW!”
Dad calmed down, “Jack, I don’t got the money, I don’t. I got to earn it.” The alchohol constructed a new version of English. “Let me earn it. If you let me go, I’ll earn it.”

Slowly, as Seth and I stood behind the couch, me grabbing onto his arm for dear life, Jack lifted his foot from my father’s head. The other placed the gun back in the pocket of his sweats. They backed out. “We want it Jones. Two weeks. We’re givin’ ya two weeks.” They left the house and Dad stood up from the floor, still dead drunk as a doornail. Unexpectedly, his anger, rage, and fright turned towards us.
“And you...” he mumbled. “The both of you. GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!” He cussed at us. I ran to him.
“But daddy--”
He shoved me and I hit the ground hard. “GET OUT!” He picked me up and threw me against the wall, then stormed into his room and slammed the door.

I began to sob. Seth walked over towards me and held me near him. He was near tears too, just seeing me in pain made his heart break and I buried my face in his chest. Then he took me to our room. “Come on, Josie. Let’s pack up.”
I followed him and nodded.

***

We just got in the car and left that night. We stopped for gas and then realized that we only had eight dollars left. We had to use it sparingly.

Seth sat in the drivers seat on the lonley freeway that night, I in the passengers place, but it was as if I wasn’t even there. The air condition blew a homley scent of freon. I just stared into the distance and never blinked. Seth became worried about me after I’d done that for about thirty minutes.

“Josie? You alright?” I didn’t say anything. “Aw, Josie,” he told me, and reached over to touch my hand. As he left it there, I gave way to the boulder in my throat, and began to sob in greif. I couldn’t go home, I couldn’t go to my dad, and we only had eight dollars. I leaned over on him and cried into his shoulder. He pulled the car over and put his arms around me.

“Jos, it’s alright. You can stay with me,” he said it as if he knew what I was thinking. I couldn’t speak, so he just kept hugging me to try and make me feel better. He had his chin resting on my shoulder. Then I felt it. A warm tear drop rolled from his face and landed on my back. He sighed, and let go of me. As he looked into my glassy eyes he smiled to remind me that my best friend was always there for me. He’d sacrific anything. He lifted his hand and wiped a new tear from my cheek. He then whispered with a voice that he hoped I hadn’t heard,

“Don’t cry, Josie...you know I hate to see you cry.”