Icy fingers gripped me in the darkness. "Where's your ma, Fay?"

He smelled like Tony's Bar on Fifth Street. I didn't have to get close enough to smell his breath to know that he was drunk, again. He's been faithfully consistent with that one thing ever since it happened. For him to come home sober would a surprise worthy of celebration.

"I don't know. She didn't get in, yet."

"If you see her," he slurred, stumbling down the narrow hallway to his room, "Tell her..I'm looking for her, and that I'm not...happy." Are you ever?

"Yes, Sir."

"And get off your lazy ass and do something." he slurred, barely intelligibly, hand resting on the doorknob. And added as an after thought, "It stinks in here."

I could faintly make out his silhouette as he fumbled to open the door. He confirmed that the conversation was over with a slam of it.

As I sat back down on the couch, my brother, Cal, walked out the bathroom, spraying air freshener in his wake.

"Was that him?" He asked

"If by him, you mean dad?"

"If that's what you prefer to call him."

"Yes, that was him."

He rolled his eyes in disgust and walked into the kitchen. "Have you seen Momma?"

"Not since this morning."

Cal flicked on the lights and strutted to the huge fridge that stood out of place in the tiny yellow kitchen. Almost the size of two outhouses. The kitchen, I mean. Not the fridge, which was the size of one.

I remember when he bought the stupid fridge. It was before s*** went downhill. Ma had told him that he was crazy and had to spend all day trying to make space for the huge fridge that would remain empty anyway. It was hope and inspiration. He had said. We would look at the fridge every day and want a big kitchen to make it fit in, so the fridge was supposed to inspire to want a bigger kitchen, hence, a bigger house. He was always out of his mind. But he had really believed so we just went along with it. But that was then.

Cal had to lean down to avoid the single light bulb in the room that was just barely hanging on. He pulled out the milk carton and took a gulp. "Should we be worried?"

I shrugged, "If she ran away from him," I indicated dad's door with my thumb, I pray she finds great joy." Cal nodded his agreement.

He came to sit next to me on the couch. It'd take a fool to deny he was my brother. From the weird red hair that you just couldn't get from dye, to the naturally tanned skin to the goldish brown eyes, Calvin is most definitely my brother. Only one thing was different. While I was commonly referred to as a bag of bones because fat refused to attach to my body, Calvin had muscles in places that I didn't even know muscles belonged. He didn't look weird but he did look like somebody who would make you think twice before jumping into a fight. He says that it's for the ladies (I constantly have to refrain myself from saying, "What ladies?") but we both know the truth. It's to keep him in line.

Cal glanced at the clock, then to me. "You have school in the morning, Faith Jenine Howard." He said, narrowing his eyes, attempting to feign superiority.

I mimicked his expression and tone, "You have work in the morning, Calvin Eugene Howard."

He waved his hand dismissively, "Let them fire me. Ain't gonna work at a taco joint my whole life." Cal was saving up to go to The Police Academy. He thought he could eventually help people...like us. He didn't have to tell me that was his motives. I knew it when he said Police Academy. Calvin had a lot more heart than he'd like to let on.

"Ah, but you do need it for now." I countered.

He rolled his eyes at me, "Unfortunately, that is true. MAYBE if someone got off the couch and went to their room so that I could sleep."

I stood, "Of course, your majesty." I bowed and walked to the closet that was made into my room.

"Know your place servant." He called to me before the house was, once again, engulfed in darkness. I squeezed into my room and lied onto cot - my makeshift bed. I wonder where mom is.