With Ears to See and Eyes to Hear

There's things that you wish you can have control of so everyone can be happy. I think everyone probably feels this way, y'know besides Socs because I'm pretty sure they have a stick up their ass 99% of the time. But, at least I feel this way. Whenever someone in the gang is down I feel like it's my job to make them laugh or at least crack a smile. There's something about making people's days better that are better than beer, sex, or even money. At the end of the day when the bottles are empty and when the value of a dollar doesn't matter, all I have is the gang. We're stronger than any family, because we pick each other up when we're down, and we've been through it all. No matter what obstacles we may face, we have each other and that's all that matters. Except beer. Beer always matters.

It was another Saturday morning, and in translation. Sleeping off another hangover. Recovering from a typical wild Friday night out with the boys including Kitty. For awhile Blair and Audrey would be concerned that I'd drink myself to death or somethin' but they soon realized it makes me who I am. When Blair was just eleven she would be concerned about me. I would spend night after night not bothering for sobriety. At the time it was so far fetched, but when her tiny hand wrapped around mind begging for me to cool it down, I listened. If it was anyone else like Steve or Dally, I wouldn't care. I couldn't give less of a fuck if it were anyone but that little girl. It's not like I don't go near the stuff like Soda, but I laid off for awhile and sooner rather than later I was pulled back into my old habits.

"HEY!" An over excited Audrey screeched from the kitchen.

Letting out a throaty groan that pulled me out of my blissful sleep I was awake. Unfortunately, I was awake. The most cruelest of punishments one can endure while dealing with a pounding hangover. The most brutal of hangovers I've ever had, because Dally thought he could beat me at beer pong. (I won). The comfort of the mattress only added to the reasons of why I did not want to get up. There are plenty of things to dream about like food, sex, blondes, girls, y'know all of the things that complete me.

Then the door swung open. Fuck, react quick. All I was able to do in that state of panic was to roll over on to my uneasy feeling stomach bracing myself for whoever was barging into my room.

"Two-Bit." Her voice was sweet. I could recognize that almost anywhere.

"I'm sleeping." I mumbled, burying my face into my pillow.

"No you're noooooot." Her voice was sing song like and I couldn't help but crack a smile.

Her body climbed inside my bed ruffling my hair. I flipped onto my stomach and stared her down. "You suck."

"I know."

"So, are you planning on sleeping off your hangover?"

"I was planning on getting drunk again."

"Or you could do something with me."

Her pastel blue eyes locked with mine almost in a pleading way. For the blissful moment I could see the specks of green and the darker shades of blue in her orbs. I don't blame her for not wanting to sit around with Blair and Audrey. When the real life of the party is just upstairs.

Doing my famous "Two-Bit Mathews" eyebrow cock her face lit up. "So, where are you gonna take me?"

"Anywhere and everywhere."

And we were off to a fun filled day of no other than Two-Bit Mathews and the famous Ms. KitKat Curtis. 

after the storm

There's those moments where you wish you can capture it in a camera, because you don't want it to leave. You just want it to stay with you so one day when you get old or somethin' you can just look back on the moments that once made you smile. And then there are the most graphic of memories that you can't forget no matter how hard you try. It's not impossible, but it's pretty damn near impossible.

One memory in particular. When dad walked out on the three of us.

Even though I was just a kid I could remember it as if it was yesterday. That is yesterday before good ol' Stevie and I got properly trashed. The day started like any other day. I was six at the time, Blair was three, and Audrey was five. Like any other kid, my dad was my hero besides Mickey Mouse of course. I wanted to be like my dad when I grew up. I wanted to have a stable home for a wife and kids, and I wanted to keep that grin on my face no matter what. Dad wasn't a man of emotion, and mom was. She was always smiling and laughing while dad was just.... I dunno dad was just there. He never failed to impress me. He was the man who got me into Mickey Mouse, so I guess I gotta give him some props. The morning dad walked out on us is the only memory that I can remember so vividly. I can recall everything that morning from what mom was cookin' to dad's license plate veering out the driveway when I thought he was just going to work and come back at 7 to ask us how our days went.

Except he gave mom a kiss on her cheek, and I knew something was up when he hugged the three of us and wouldn't let go until Audrey protested "Daddy I can't breathe!" Looking back now, I know I don't want to be anything like my dad. I don't want to be like the man who was once my hero, because my hero was a coward. He cheated on my mother, and walked out on his three kids. I don't want to be anything like that, because he left everything on my mom's shoulder. She couldn't handle it anymore, and even back then I knew she was a ticking time bomb,

I knew it was up to me to be the new dad. I was only six when I stepped up to the plate in taking care of my two little sisters. Audrey was a mess, because  she knew he was never coming back, and Blair wasn't nearly as effected as the two of us. She carried on, and I guess ignorance is bliss. Mom was out late working two jobs, just enough to put food on the table for three young kids. Even at the time my soft spot for my family came in handy when I  looked for dad all over Tulsa. I prayed that he would just come home, but he never did.

It's kinda crazy to think about how the supposed man of the house can just walk out on his own family, and upgrade for a new one. I never thought that it was us that were in the wrong, but mom took everything on herself. He traded in our lively beautiful mother for some trashy looking Soc. I felt bad for her. Her warm brown eyes lost the old sparkle, and soon enough she went after men who treated her like garbage. Night after night she came home with a new catch, and Blair would get her hopes up thinking that he can be our new "daddy". Except, the men who she went after were mostly alcoholics in search of a lay, like any other man. But, when mom would not give it up they would take their anger out on her. I would hear her screams late at night, and my two sisters came into my room feeling the security of their older brother.

I don't think of myself as mature. Fuck, I'm still a kid myself. I haven't matured, but I've moved on. I've moved on from looking out the window everyday waiting for him to come home. All he was, was a coward and in my eyes that's all he'll ever be. It's sad to think about that I was better of a dad then he was, and as Kitty says I have the mind of a twelve year old.

Nothing makes sense in our house, but hell nothing ever makes sense in our gang. As I've told Blair and Audrey, they shouldn't hold onto the past, because there's more to come. And you know what they did? They messed up my hair, and told me how much of a girl I am. I need to let go of the memories that are like a dark gloomy cloud constantly hovering over your head. I need to focus on the memories that make me smile. The memories of all the shit and giggles that happen in our house, but more importantly in our little improved family that I like to call our gang.