Noah Silas Anderson

Chapter 25: "Not all it's cracked up to be"

I wasn't happy about it, but I drove to my father's. He lived away from the city, so it was a decent drive.

I would've asked Gael to go but we kinda got into it last night about the whole Cassie thing. It was a brotherly disagreement - a petty bicker - nothing that either of us should hold a grudge for. That's how Gael is, though, the "big brother" I never had. When you get so close to someone, y'all become like family.
He was just pissed about how "close" Cassie and I got last night when we were all in her apartment. I'd say him and Brooklyn were pretty jealous but Brooklyn claims it's not like that. And I doubt G cares enough already to be jealous, too. They're just tripping over nothing.

Cassie just seemed troubled and it's hard trying to get to know someone when they have these preconceived notions that people aren't shit and they convinced themselves can't have a good time. The type of person I am just wants to interact with the new people I meet like I've known them forever, that's how Gael is, too. But Cassie's just not that comfortable, yet. And instead of taking it easy, Gael likes the challenge of Cass playing hard to get. If she would open up to him he'd understand it the right approach and then he could win her off in a normal way. Well, she acts like she's not interested, I think, but I know what I saw on the ship; especially when she was drunk, she was into him.

I arrived at the one-story house down a long lane with a few other houses scattered on each side of the road.

Before the drugs, we lived comfortably. I'm just glad I got out on my own before things got bad.
Honestly, I have no idea what things are like with his marriage, with his other kid, or in the house. It's not the house I grew up in, he moved around a lot with each wife. I don't think he's left this place though, since Emereigh was born.

A cat jumped on my truck as soon as I hopped out. I hate cats. My face curled and I pressed a button on my keys to sound an alarm to scare the boney black cat.

There was a children's bike in the small front yard and cigarette butts all along the sidewalk and porch. It was so much, I hope Kim helped contribute to the pile.

The door behind the screen was open so I thought it'd be unlocked and tried walking right in, but I stopped when I saw a little girl on the carpet. It was Emereigh, who's six, she was coloring one of those black and white auto booklets you get for free from the convince stores.

That's just sad, I thought. She doesn't even have a real coloring book.

I pulled the door open and walked inside. The smell of cat piss, beer, and fish hit my nose, making my face curl.

Emereigh didn't even look up at me or speak, and I didn't care to either. She's not my (real) sister.

"Where's Rick?" I asked her.

She just hunched her shoulders and continued coloring. I don't think she talks much.

"Okay," I talked, "where's your mother?"

"At work," she said.

"Work? Where does she work now?"

"On the corner."

"Where'd you get that from?"

"That's what Daddy said."

I laughed then squatted down to level with her. My eyes landed on something by Emereigh's crayons.

"What's this, Emereigh?" I knew exactly what it was but I wondered if the six-year-old did.

"That's Daddy's medicine, he told me to hold it for him and hide it from Mommy," she told me. I wiped my hand down my face and slowly retracted the needle.

"Wh-why would Mommy try to take his medicine if he needs it?"

"Sometimes when he takes it, he leaves or does bad things, and Mommy doesn't like it."

"Bad things like what?"

"I'm not supposed to say."

"Are you hiding anything else, Emereigh?"

She didn't open her mouth, only nodded. Suddenly, she stopped coloring and stood up, walking outside through the sliding door. I followed her to this shed out back behind a run-down old truck buried in high grass.

The same cat from before jumped on the hood and hissed at me.

"This your cat?" I asked Emereigh. No response.

She lifted the hatch to the unlock and open the barn door, then cautiously walked backwards, passing my body.

The door creaked open after I awkwardly pushed it to do so, revealing Rick's naked body curled up in the middle of the shed.

"Jesus," I jeered, covering my eyes then Emereigh's. "How long has he been like this?"

She looked up at me for the first time and said, "A couple of days."

"Emereigh, can you flush his medicine? He won't be needing it anymore," I said.

"Mommy did that before she left this morning."

Huh. Well that makes this a little easier. Point for Kim.

I stood and vibrated my lips as I scanned the backyard for a hose and a bucket.

"Fill that bucket up with water," I told her. She did as told and returned once the job was done.

I lifted the bucket and dumped the cold water on his body. Rick screamed and twitched, squinting his eyes from the sunlight he was exposed to now.

"If you're here because I owe you money, I don't have it. Take my truck or something," he bargained, curling back up in a ball. My jaw clenched as I looked down at him.

"You're that fucked up you don't remember your own son?"

Rick warily sat up and opened his eyes to get a good look at me. "Noah?"

"You have more than one son?"

"No, course not. W-what're you doing here?"

"Get up, man, and cover up," I told him, walking away from the shed.

Emereigh grabbed the cat and nearly strangled it.
Emereigh is evil and she hates my guts. She even looks at me like she hates me. I know, she's only six but I can feel it.

Rick exited the shed with a pair of hole-y jeans and a dingy button-up. He stumbled on his way over to hug me which I dodged.

"You stink," I told him, walking back up the deck stairs to go inside.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

As soon as we got inside he searched high and low for something.

"What you looking for?" I asked.

He scratched and itched, flipping pillows and couch cushions.

"Nothing, son. Why?"

Emereigh came back inside and went straight to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of Pepsi that she drank from like a grown man. She burped and put the bottle back in the refrigerator with no cap.

What in the trailer park is this? How did things get to this point?

"You're looking for your drugs and you won't find it. I flushed it," I lied, taking the credit for his wife's doing. His red eyes opened wide with concern.

"You have a kid here, and you're doing drugs?"

"What's it to ya, you left me?" He waved me off, stumbling to the back room.
I pushed the door open and watched as he opened a drawer. He pulled out a bible that had the pages cutout for a secret compartment, and revealed a bag of crushed pills. I didn't do anything right away, I just watched as he spread it into four lines.

"You're fucked up in the head," I spat, walking over casually only to snatch the bag and knock the Bible from his lap so the substance would trickle to the stained carpet.
After flushing the rest, I caught him looking for more.

"There is no more, Rick. Now why'd you call me, and why the fuck would you go to Terrance's house looking for me?"

"I wanted to see ya, say hi. I know you don't wanna hear this but you were the reason I got clean in the first place. Then, when you were a senior in high school you said I had to go to rehab if I wanted to attend your graduation. Which I did. I was clean for years until recently, Noah, you know that. I just... I need help, man."

I blinked away the tears I felt coming on and cleared my throat.

"Don't try to guilt trip me. The reason you should want to get sober is right in the other room, and she's six-years-old. If I didn't know any better I'd think she was raising herself. Where's her mother?"

He shrugged, scratching his head. "She found someone else. She only stops by to give me money for the bills, and that's it."

Christ. "You don't think that's sad? This whole fucking situation, do you know how pathetic it is? Your fiancé left you for some rich man and didn't even take the kid?"

Rick started to cry on the bed, rocking.

"Rick, get a grip. Stop crying, for real. Where can I find Kim?" I asked sternly.

"Her husband is a producer, he's working on a movie in Hollywood for the next few months, and she's usually not too far," he sniffled. I took a mental note and saved it for later.

"Come on, Rick," I said, "you need a shower and a meal."

"Thank you," he said shakily. I just nodded and dug around some drawers for a fresh outfit he could throw on.

"And I mean shower: scrub and use soap. A lot of soap."

"-Thank you," I said to the waitress. She smiled and asked if she could get us anything else but when I said no she walked off.

Emereigh and Rick sat back in the booth on their side across from me and dug right into the dinner. They both ate like they hadn't even seen food in weeks.

I tapped my knuckles on the table as I thought up a plan.

A text from Brooks lit up my phone screen. She got my number when I left her place this morning. The message read:

Brooo I think my apartment is haunted! Just hung this picture up and it keeps falling 😐

Attachment:(1 image)

I locked the screen but she texted back instantly:

Or does that mean I'm just bad at hanging things?😭

I silently laughed to myself but didn't bother replying yet.

"Do you want to get clean, Rick?" I asked out of no where.

He swallowed hard and stared at me. "Yeah, son, I do. I just don't know how. It's hard."

"Emereigh, how do you feel about staying with your mom for a while?" I asked.

"I stayed with Mommy last week, her other house is huge!" she expressed with a mouthful of macaroni.

"Kim has had her at her boyfriend's house?" I questioned Rick who just nodded in response. "Well, does she want her? Have y'all talked about it?"

"I won't let her. I need Emereigh, she's all I have left." Rick sobbed.

"I don't think you have much choice," I argued.

Rick just swallowed his coffee and tore his eyes away from mine.

***

I slammed the door shut to my Hummer and walked through the parking lot until I saw Brooklyn getting out of her Porsche.

She didn't have any makeup on and her naturally wavy hair was left hanging wildly past her shoulders. She wore a plain grey shirt, black workout leggings that stopped under her knees, and a pair of camouflage Crocs. I had to laugh at her choice in footwear, I don't think it's like her to dress so casual in public.

As I approached Brooklyn, I offered to help with the plastic bags she tried taking in one trip.

"Hey, girl." I spoke first.

"Hey, boy!" She beamed, closing the driver's side door with her hip. We walked beside each other, looking both ways before crossing the street. "I finally went grocery shopping, now I'll be the one always eating snacks. What did you do today, Mr.I-Don't-Know-How-To-Text-Back?"

"Where were you?"

"Are you answering a question with a question?" she asked as we entered the building and went right to get to the elevator. I swear it gets slower and slower everyday.

"You just did," I countered, popping an eyebrow. "Why are you wearing Crocs with no socks?"

Brooklyn laughed at my judgment. "Stop. I didn't feel like digging through my boxes for flip-flops, so I went to the nail salon like this. See," she removed her foot from the shoe and showed me her matching mani/pedi.

"Yeah, cute. Anyway... how are you with kids?"

The elevator opened and we walked inside. I pressed '3' and stepped back.

"Why?"

"Can you do me a favor?" I boldly asked. She's going to shoot me down.

"What?"

"You have two bedrooms, right?"

"Spit it out already." Her eyes got lower, I could tell she was bored already and uninterested.

"There's a little girl, she needs a place to stay."

"What?!" Brooklyn yelled, looking at me like I was crazy. "No, Noah. And don't you have two bedrooms, too?"

The elevator opened once we reached the third floor. I followed Brooklyn to her apartment and kept talking as she struggled to unlock the door with all the stuff in her hands.

"My house isn't kid safe," I gave an excuse. Her eyes rolled as she walked inside and turned on the lights. We put the bags on the counter and then finished the conversation as she put all the food and drinks away.
I slid her the carton of Silk Almond vanilla-flavored milk and she placed it on the rack in the refrigerator.

"And mine is?" she debated. "You have balls but don't you think it's a little irresponsible to ask this sort of favor from a stranger?"

"You're not strange!" I said, making Brooklyn laugh. I added, "Come on, Brooks, this is serious."

"If it's so serious, drop the kid off at the fire station or something." Brooklyn suggested, trying to reach the top cabinet and just barely making it.

"I can't," I sighed, sitting on a stool.

"Why not?"

I didn't want to tell her this information but for sake of argument, I did. "She's my half-sister," I admitted lowly, "I found her at my dad's house with a needle. Don't ask. Look, he's a piece of shit, and I don't even know the kid."

"Um, neither do I, and I'm not good with kids! I don't know the first thing about babysitting."

"Right," I said, "but you have, uh, maternal instincts!"

Brooklyn tilted her head at me, her face straight. "You have paternal instincts."

"That's not a thing."

"Yes it is," she claimed, opening a box of Nilla Wafers and not offering any. Fed up, I snatched the box from her hands and grabbed a bunch before she took it back.

"It's not, look it up," I grumbled, chewing on the cookies.

"It is," Brooklyn refused to back down and admit she was wrong.

"You know what, it's fine," I barked as I stood, "you don't wanna help me? I'll ask someone else."

"Are you trying to manipulate me?" asked Brooklyn, folding her arms.

"Is it working?" I stopped walking away to ask.

Brooklyn gave in, laughing. "No. Noah, I can't have her stay here, it's not right. I'm sorry. Plus, I'm about to start working nights."

I didn't even want to think about work, especially with Brooklyn and Cassie coming on.

I sat back down and Brooklyn stood beside me, holding up the island.

"She hates me," I talked about my half-sister. "She looks at me like she wants to kill me - she's evil."

Brooklyn unintentionally gave me the exact look I was describing.

"Exactly like that!" I exclaimed. "That's how she looks at me. You know, I saw her strangle a cat."

Brooklyn laughed. "What's her name?" she asked me.

"Emereigh, she's six."

"I'm sorry, Noah. I wish I could help, but I can't."

I understood and nodded. It was dumb to ask anyway, but anything would be an improvement from her current situation.

"I know, I shouldn't have asked you. I just don't want her around that shit."

"You know, Noah," Brooklyn paused, "as bad as it sounds, I don't think you care about her being around it. You just don't want your dad using, which is understandable. Maybe you should try helping him, too?"

"Heard. But I've tried to help him, and he got clean, then... this happens. It's a cycle and I can't keep dropping everything to focus on him, y'know? You can't help someone who doesn't even see a problem. He thinks because he's not skin and bones or missing teeth, and homeless, that it's alright."

"I know you don't wanna hear this," Brooklyn said to me as she continued putting the food away, "but you're in no position to take care of a kid right now. It's obvious she can't stay there, though. I'll look around, call some people, and see if there's a shelter or something?"

"Nah, I don't want her in the system."

"Well, maybe it's not so bad at home-"

I cut her off to repeat myself from earlier in the conversation. "I. Found. Her. With. A. Needle! No, she's not safe."

Brooklyn looked at me with sympathy. "All you can do is get him help, or it's out of your hands."

While that's true, it's not what I wanted to hear.

"Okay?" Brooklyn cooed, trying to smile and get me to. "Now, can you help me hang this picture, for real; it keeps falling?"