Chapter Fifteen

                                    

                                          
Alex Solace
   He's still on the floor.
   The fat tub of lard is still on the fucking floor.
   I was just finished getting ready and decided to see if we had enough food for me to make Mateo's lunch. So I went to the kitchen and I see his fat fucking body still in the same position as it was last night.
   I should be worried, but if anything, I'm worried with how happy I am. 
   I groan and kick his leg. 
   Nothing. 
   I poke his beer belly with my toes lightly to see if I can get a reaction. 
   Nothing.
   So finally I give up and I go back to Mother's room.
   I knock on the door expectedly and her nasally voice rings through the door. "Come in." 
   I crack open the door. She frail body lays upright on the bed with the blanket draped over her legs. She has the remote to her TV in one hand and either a cigarette or a blunt in the other.
   My guess is a cigarette.
   "Your husband is still on the floor," I roll my eyes.
   She groans with her head tilted back, "Goddamit Robert,"she mutters. She lets out grunt as she whips the blanket off her body and tries to stand up. Her sickly small arms push her body up off the bed and she walks over to me.
   She keeps the cigarette to the side of her mouth as she walks past me and goes into the kitchen while I follow her. 
   She just shakes her head the closer to his disgusting body and kneels down to look for a pulse. I wait a few feet away from them for the verdict. 
   She checks his wrist, "Well," she grunts and slaps her knees, standing up. Her arms cross over her chest and she taps one of her feet impatiently, "The bitch ain't breathin'." 
   Wait what?! 
   "What do you mean he's not breathing?" I stress. 
   "I mean either he's too fuckin' fat and I can't feel a pulse, or the bitch drank himself to death. Or smoked, I don't shame," she waves her hand with a nonjudgmental shrug of her shoulders.
   My throat clogs and I become speechless. Does that mean...? 
   "Looks like you're in luck, babygirl." She slaps her sides. "You got a free day." When she sees my brows draw together in confusion, she clarifies. "I handle the money, not the customers. Do whatever you want." She steps around his body.
   "Well what're we gonna do about him?" I point to the dead weight imprinting our kitchen tile. 
   She waves her hand and does a pregnancy walk, "I'll call an ambulance while y'all are out. Can't have y'all here when I do that." 
   Right. CPS. 
   We go our separate ways and I decide on just going to Subway to get him a sandwich. 
_______________________________
   I don't wanna go. 
   The front entrance to my school is right there, and I'm just standing outside like a creep.
   I groan when I start getting a bit chilly and decide that I have to go in. My feet carry me into the hellhole I have to be in for seven hours and I make my way to my locker.
   I put in my combination and start putting my things away. I honestly have no desire to be here. Even though this is my last year, I don't feel like finishing it. But I know I have too. After high school I'm done.