Living for Sunny

The potent stench of bile and vodka was enough to wake Sunny and I, two hours before our alarm. This is not something new for us though, frankly we prefer to wake up before Medusa does. This way we can bolt to our bus stop and escape her wrath or on some days her fraudulent hugs. You see, mother is schizophrenic and Bipolar and with the luck we have, and the cards we have been dealt, she is also an alcoholic. Not exactly a royal flush life.

               In my 16 years of life, the only insights I have into what a happy, normal home should be is through the books I read. Of course, only when time permits me to get lost in the magical words in each chapter. My time usually consists of grocery shopping, laundry, tutoring Sunny and working part time at Dairy Queen. The tips are decent, I make just enough a month to keep the light bill paid. All the same, I look forward to those idle moments where I can satisfy my quench of wishing I lived a different life. I look forward to the orgasmic reverie of living in a loving home, where days end with a hug from my parents and a full stomach. ”Jordan, the bus will be here in 15 minutes! Hurry up!”  Sunny shouts using her inside voice, to not wake up Medusa.

               I rush to throw on my oversized sweatshirt, dirty Fila Sneakers and pick up my knotty hair into a messy bun before heading out the door. Not Sunny though. Sunny will not show up to school looking less than perfect. Her chocolate wavy hair is always perfectly parted down the middle in either a ponytail or braid laced in ribbon. Her school uniform is always clean and well-tailored to her petite frame. Sunny shines, she always has. This is partially my fault, I spoil Sunny because in my eyes, I must put her first. Sunny is my sister, but I have always felt like she is my daughter. I know, it’s shitty for a 16-year-old to have to bear this type of responsibility.

SHIT. I forgot my DQ uniform shirt. “Hold up Sunny, I need to get my shirt out of the dryer.” The last time I left my uniform at home, I was forced to use one from the donation box my manager keeps in the walk-in fridge. My nipples were rock solid the entire shift and I smelled like frost bite chicken tenders. I refused to give up my shift knowing that I had 4 days left on the light bill extension.

               I race through the door trying my best not to make too much noise. My keychains unfortunately did not get the memo. The dingle dangle of the keys was enough to wake her up.” Jordaaaannnnnn. What the hell is going on so early in the morning!”  I can hear it in Medusa’s voice that a few of her head serpents are tangled in a knot. “Nothing, the bus is almost here, sorry to wake you.” Rolling my eyes, I make my way to the dryer and pull my shirt out. Great, the stain is still visible. Fuck my life. I should have known this was going to happen after using dish soap and Colgate toothpaste as detergent. I turn around to bolt when I am greeted with a SLAP. “Why the fuck did you throw away my Titos last night, how dare you! I work for my money, and I can buy whatever I want with it!” Holding my cheek, I could feel the waterworks coming, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction, so I held it in. “Mother do not do this right now. The bus is almost- SLAP “ I received another back hand this time knocking off my glasses. “Do not talk back to me you little shit, the next time you empty out my bottle into the sink, you’re going to wish you hadn’t been born.” The worst part is that she doesn’t even know that I do wish that, daily.

               Walking away and just shutting my mouth has probably saved my life more times than I can count on both hands. I used to get mouthy and spar with her, both verbally and physically hoping that she could wake the F up. I used to have the hope that she would change, that she would get better. As I got older, I learned that having hope is a pavement to disappointment. Medusa had more bat-shit-crazy days than she did good days. On good days our mother cooked breakfast for us. When Sunny and I woke up to the smell of bacon and toast, we knew it was going to be a good day. These good days usually came with a hidden agenda of course, like meeting one of her new boyfriends at the park. But we didn’t care, we took complete advantage of these days and held on to them as tightly as we could. Despite the reasons behind mother being happy, I enjoyed her smile and her laughter on these days. She didn’t have the Vodka smell breaking through her pores, instead she smelled like Daisy by Marc Jacobs. I love that perfume. I guess holding on to the good memories is the only reason I have not waved the white flag and surrendered Sunny and I to child protective services. I can’t bear the thought of being separated from Sunny, CPS as of now is just not an option. Just two more years of this instability hell hole, at least that’s what I tell myself to push through.

               Slamming the door behind me and rushing to the bus stop, I see Sunny sitting on her book bag. “Let me guess, we missed the bus again?” I yell over to Sunny with my voice trembling and heart racing. I can see the disappointment in Sunny’s eyes. This is all my fault, why did forget my damn shirt in the dryer?  I can feel the blood dripping from my nose, I turn to wipe it with the sleeve of my jacket in hopes that Sunny doesn’t notice. She holds my backpack gently and tugs on it twice to get my attention and turn around. “Jordan, we are not alone as long as we have each other.”  I smile, wipe my tears then hold her hand. She just saved me again.  “Come on, we can still make it before the bell rings if we power walk.”