Slowly our house became a home. It took some time though. But she did put down the bottle. The responsibilities I had disappeared. Dinner was cooked by her, clothes were washed by her, and the house was cleaned by her. She even found a job that she worked during the day. The babies were cared for by a neighbor. Things were nice. I stopped falling asleep in school. My grades were much better. But that damn Richard Walton still annoyed the hell out of me.

            As usual, I was playing Double Dutch before school started. Richard ran up behind me and pushed me down on the ground right before I was about to jump into the rope. I tripped and fell and skinned my knee. I  had it with that fool! I jumped up with my bloody knee and chased that idiot until I caught him over by the trash cans by the parking lot’s fence!
            “Damn you, Richard!” I punched him dead in the eye.
            “Ouch!”
            That wimp fell to the ground and cried like a baby. A school attendant, Mr. Phillips, pulled me aside as he reached for Richard while scolding us both. When I turned around, there was a crowd behind me laughing at Richard crying like a little wimp. Mr. Phillips drug us both to the office threatening to get us both suspended. I didn’t give a damn. Richard was asking for a butt whooping and  I gave it to him.

            The nurse came to the front desk with an icepack to put over his eye which began to swell up and turn colors. Then she took me to her office and cleaned up my cut. I don’t remember her name. It’s not important anyway.  After she was done, she sent me back out to wait on Principal Turner. Richard was sitting in one corner and I was sitting in the other. Principal Turner called the both of us into his office.

            “Come in and have a seat.”
            This was the first time I went to the principal’s office. Principal Turner was a very intimidating man. Just the tone in his voice made you shake with fear. You didn’t want him angry with you. He had sort of a Santa Claus tone mixed with the voice of God from The Ten Commandments. That’s the best way I can explain his voice. He didn’t give us a chance to explain what happened. Luckily no one was suspended. All we had to do was apologize to each other. He called our parents and notified them of our situation then sent us to class. Neither of our parents wanted to talk with us. It didn’t surprise me one bit. When I got home that day, Mom and I talked about what happened. Much to my surprise, she wasn’t upset. Nothing else was said. She did instruct me to punch his lights out again if he placed another hand on me.  But, I never had to. After the incident, Richard and I became buddies from that point on. I don’t know if it was because I had placed fear in him or if it was because Mrs. Jackson was right about him having a crush on me. I never found the boy attractive anyway! So it doesn’t matter.
                                                                     *****
            The year I turned 15, Mom died from sclerosis of the liver. Since she was still legally married to Dad, he was responsible for the funeral arrangements. She told people. including her children, that she wasn’t married to our father anymore. I guess the divorce took place in her mind because according to the state of Illinois, she was still married. Dad had to plan her funeral and he suggested cremation and a memorial service. We looked at him like he was crazy!            “Not my mamma!” I said.

            He went ahead with the funeral plans. A few relatives came by the house. Most of our relatives lived out of state. They rarely called or visited. We weren’t the type of family that came together for family reunions and other family events like most families have. We were sort of a distant family. We would only come together when it was necessary. The last time we all saw each was at Grandma’s funeral. I haven’t spoken to any distant family members in a few years. If I’m not mistaken, I haven’t talked to any of them since my mother’s funeral. You see what I am saying?

            Auntie Diana and Uncle Jamal came by a day after the funeral. Uncle Jamal was my mother’s only sibling. He didn’t call much after Grandma died. He wasn’t anyone you would miss. So, it didn’t bother us much at all. A male’s voice called out into the living room while movers were moving our boxes into the U-Haul Truck.

            “Hello, is anybody in here?”
            Then I heard a female voice, “Hello? Nicole? Andrew?”

            I heard my father walk into the living room where he heard the voices. Then laughter filled the room. I went to see the commotion, “Hi, Uncle Jamal. Hi, Aunt Diana,"

            “Hi, Nicole. Girl, you have grown! Give us a hug.”
            I gave them both a hug upon his request. April and Vincent walked out of their rooms. Dad left out the room and finished packing our things.
            “Hey little guys”, said Auntie Diana.   “Say hello to your aunt,” I asserted, “They are a little bashful at times.”
            “Oh, we understand. Your aunt and I wanted to come and check on you children again before we headed back down to Atlanta.”
            “We’re fine. Dad is here, so we will be alright, I guess.”
            “If there’s ever anything you need make sure you give us a call.”
            “Okay, thanks.”

            I didn’t know what to say exactly. I never had a real relationship with my uncle. I knew he existed, but that was it. I knew I wasn’t going to call. I am sure he knew that too. He probably didn’t even mean it. He probably said that only because it seemed like the right thing to say at the time. Who knows?

            “Well, if there isn’t anything else, I guess we should be going.”
            “Yeah, I guess.”
            Uncle Jamal leaned over and gave the three of us a hug. Aunt Diana did the same.
            “Before we leave, I want to leave you all with something. It’s not much, but I think you will like it. I know that you haven’t had the luxury of owning the family history captured in photos. All of that died with your grandparents. My sister and I never took the time to continue capturing special moments in photos; either too depressed, which was your mother, or too busy, I’m referring to myself. But, I did manage to keep a few photos from the past.” Uncle Jamal reached into his inside jacket and pulled out an envelope.

            “Here. This is for you all to keep.”
            I reached over and took the envelope, “What’s inside?”
            “Look,” I opened it and saw some photographs of me, Andrew, my parents during their early years, and my grandparents.
            “Thanks.”
            “Those are yours to keep. Make sure you call me if there is anything you need. Do you have my number?”
            “No, I don’t.”
            He reached into his wallet for a small piece of paper. On the back of a Walgreens receipt, he wrote his home and cell numbers.
            “Take this. If there is ever anything you need, let me know. I am serious!”
            “I will.”

            And that was that. I haven’t spoken to him since. I just didn’t feel comfortable calling. I did not know him like that. I rarely saw him. When he called, I never spoke to him. I just knew of him, and that was it.

            We finished packing and left all those terrible memories of Mom behind. What we took with us were the last good years we had with her and the photos that Uncle Jamal gave us. I shared them with Andrew when we moved into our new home. We moved to the Beverly neighborhood into Father’s 5-bedroom home on the southwest side of Chicago. In the beginning, things went great. No, that fool didn’t stop doing drugs but, because Father made a very nice salary, he was able to support his habit and take care of home. He purchased us new clothes and shoes and gave us each a hundred dollars to play around with every two weeks. We dashed to the store in father’s Mitsubishi Eclipse. Andrew drove. Without a license might I add. Ever since we moved into Beverly, Andrew changed. I don’t know if it was because of Dad’s addiction? or what? But he turned into a damn fool. He would stay out all night and constantly argue if I approached him about it. He would not come home until one or two o’clock in the morning and I’m not supposed to say anything about it? He must be crazy! I could never figure out what the hell he would be doing in the streets until one in the morning! When I asked he would get an attitude.

            “Stay out of my damn business!”
            “What do you mean stay out of your business?” I would exclaim
             “I have a right to know because I am here all the time taking care of them! And where do you be? Out in the streets, all night long kicking it with your boys. Nobody knowing where you are! What if something happened? How could we find you!”
            “Whatever, I am going to bed.”
            That’s all he had to say. Nothing else.

            Besides Andrew’s night-crawling ass, things were just fine for a while. But, just like I should have expected, things went downhill.  Dad lost control of his habit. Over a course of three months, we lost all of our utilities because he stopped paying the bills. The money he set aside for his habit wasn’t enough anymore. He needed more. The first month we lost our cable. Then it was our phones. I thought to myself, at least he’s trying to be somewhat responsible because they weren’t necessities. A month after that, our gas and electricity were disconnected.

            What the hell were we supposed to do now!
            It was the middle of summer and we were frying! April drug into my room in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, “Nicole, I can’t sleep because it’s so hot.”

            “April, what am I supposed to do? We don’t have any electricity. I can’t plug in the fan and the a/c won’t come on either without it. Here, let’s take off your pajama pants and shirt. Come over here so I can fan you.”

            I used the envelope that the pictures came in. That’s all I had. I kept the pictures close to me on my nightstand. Then Vincent came in whining about the same thing.
            “Nicole, I’m hot.”
            “Go get into bed with Andrew. I don’t have enough room for all of us.”
            “He’s not here.”
            “He’s not?”
            I heard the rustic lock on the door turn. Andrew walked through the door. I jumped out of bed, grabbed Vincent, and walked to where Andrew was standing. With an attitude, he said, “What!”
            “What do you mean what?”
            “What is your problem? Why you come storming in here? Is there a problem?”
            “Yeah, it’s you!”
            He walked towards his room, “Damn, it’s hot as hell in here!”
            “You think??”
            “What is it? This isn’t my fault!”
            “I know it's not. But the least you can do is be here when I need you! That’s the least you can do.”
            “Look, we already had this conversation-“
            “And it's clear to me that you don’t give a damn!”
            “I do give a damn, but I don’t want to be cooped up in this house all day either!”
            “And I do?”

            He walked into his room. I followed behind him. He was irritating the hell out of me. I wanted to slap his face. But I held my composure because obviously, that wasn’t going to quickly solve this problem, but it would have definitely done me justice at that moment. “Are you on drugs?”
            “What?”
            “You heard me. Are you on drugs? Because if you are, you can get the hell up out of here. We don’t need another one of you.”
            He started laughing. Frankly, I didn’t see a damn thing funny! Little did I know, I was going to be faced with the same challenges in just a short time. He sat on the bed and pulled off his shoes. I stood before him and asked him again. No response.
            “So you are going to ignore my question… I see.”
            “Because it’s a ridiculous question. Why would I go out to do the same damn thing that he’s doing.”
            “Something is keeping you out there all night.”
            “I already told you. I hate to be in the house.”
            “Fine, Andrew. I’m going to bed. Take Vincent so you can help him get back to sleep.”
            “It’s hot as hell in here! I’m not going to even be able to get to sleep my damn self. How am I going to put him to sleep?”
            “Figure it out! I am going to bed! Bye!”

            The next morning, we all sat outside to try to catch a cool breeze. Thank God it was Saturday,  none of us slept because of the humid Chicago heat. I was still bitter with Andrew about last night. I sat on the porch swing and watched April and Vincent play in the front yard. Andrew was sitting on the concrete porch steps listening to his portable cd player.

            “Andrew! Andrew!” I waved my hand to get his attention. He pulled the headphones down from his ears and answered, “Yeah.”
            “I was doing a lot of thinking last night while trying to rest. You and I both know that we cannot depend on Dad. He’s proved it to us over and over again. He hasn’t been here in a few days.“
            “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. It’s something up with him.”
            “Yeah, heroin!”
            “I mean besides that.”
            “What do you mean?”

            Andrew stood and walked over and sat on the swing next to me. “Honestly, I think that man has another family somewhere. Think about it, he’s gone days at a time. The only time he comes through is when he thinks that maybe we need more money. He never spends the night here. I mean never."
           
​              Andrew had a point. Dad was never home, “I guess you got a point there. But why would he hide us?”
            “Maybe because they don’t know anything about us, and he wants to keep it that way.”
            “What? Oh, come on! So he would go through all this trouble for us and them?!?”
            “Why not?”
            “Why not ask him?”
            “Go ahead.”
            “Fine, I will. But in the meantime, we should both get jobs.”
            “What?”
            “Andrew, we need to survive. We can’t keep living this way. I know we have school to worry about, but we also have the little ones to care for.”
            “Yeah okay, fine. And how are we supposed to do this? Dad only pays the childcare to care for them until we get out of school. The latest they can stay is until 6.”
            “I don’t know. Besides, I am going to need permission from the school to get a job. But that means written permission from Dad. You don’t need permission because you are 16.”
            “So, in actuality you want me to get a job.”
            “Well, yeah!”
            “I guess I have no other choice.”
            “I guess not.” He looked at me with a crazy look. And I gave him the exact look back.