Julkalender

I woke up with a feeling that everything was going to become a lot worse. I couldn't hear anything, but I felt all the bad vibes in the house trickling it's way under the doors. I sat up and brushed the fatigue out of my eyes. I had..absotlutely nothing planned for today. That meant I had to stay at home all day. Sigh.

After getting dressed I went downstairs to make breakfeast. My father was there, and surprised me, as he had set the table, and made bacon and eggs. I looked puzzled at him and sat down.

“Is mom home?” I asked. He nodded.

“I picked her up this morning,” he signed. “She's sleeping.”

I nodded and sat down on a chair. Tasted his eggs.

“I''ve been thinking,” he signed, and I focused on him.

“You are right,” he said. I rolled my eyes. Took him long enough. “And.. I've decided to stop drinking,”

I stared. Was he serious?

“You deserve a.. sober father.” he continued. I nodded. But that did'nt meant I was gonna get one.

“I'll wake mom,” I signed and stood up. “Don't use that much salt next time,” I signed and left the room.

 

I poked at her. She turned in her sleep and looked at me. Her face was... crushed. The nose was huge and red and swollen. But at least it was straight now. I bent forwards and kissed her forehead. “Food,” I signed. She nodded and I helped her sit up and get dressed.

“He is a changed man,” she signed and smiled at me. I smiled back but didn't mean it.

If it made her happy believing that, then fine, but I couldn't do it.

Breakfeast was horrible. The eggs were salt, and coffe was to strong and the tension between my parents was torture. He couldn't even look at her, and he dried his tears over and over again. She was smiling and talking and signing as if nothing was wrong.

“We'll have ot buy a tree soon,” she said to my father. I shrugged. Christmas. I didn't want to think about that. The last four christmases he had been drunk and mean and she had been sitting in a corner crying.

Sometimes I didn't think that this monster he had become, was only becouse of my disease. It was if it had always been inside him, waiting to explode. My disease had only been the trigger.

I told my mother that once. That was the first time she had been angry at me since I got sick. But I still believed it. And that monster wasn't about to disappear that easily.

 

I sat with the number in my hand. Of course I couldn't call him. But I could text him, couldn't I?

Before I could change my mind I wrote to him.

“Hey, It's Hayley. The freak with the dogs!”

I put the phone away and took a sip of tea. Would he answer quick? Oh, he was probably busy, or maybe he didn't want to talk to me. He must have realized what a freak I am and... the phone interrupted my thoughts. I picked it up. It was him. Him, I didn't even know his name.

“Hello, it's so nice to hear from you! What's up?”

I looked up at my mother. She was lying in the sofa, sleeping.

“I'm a bit bored, what are you doing?” I wrote back. As I waited for his reply I picked up the piece of paper with his number on and looked at it. It was the first time ever that someone had given me their number. It felt odd, and yet.. normal. It was such a normal thing, that happened to normal people. I turned the paper around and noticed that he had written it on.. the backside of a ticket. It looked like a concert ticket.
“The Used ” I read from it.

I sat down in front of the computer and turned it on. I had never heard about this band before. Well.. I wasn't that into music nowadays. I could only 'listen' to the music I had already heard, in my head over and over again, and that was mostly Marilyn Manson.

I opened google and wrote in 'The Used'.

Before I could look at the picture the phone vibrated again.

“I'm waiting for a journalist to come and torture me with questions,” he wrote. I didn't have time to wonder why he was being interviewed before my eyes fell on the computer screen. Pictures.. of him, everywhere. With blond hair, short hair, tattoos, on stage all sweaty and... and pictures of him. He's famous.

 

“Oh, of course, because you're famous,” I wrote to him a bit later. “I didn't know, but then I googled,”

It didn't take him long to answer.

“Yeah, I guess I'm famous. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all, I was just a bit surprised.” I wrote honestly.

“Have you listened to our music? I don't want to brag but it's very good,” he wrote and made me laugh. A quiet laugh.

“No.. I don't listen to a lot of music these days, “ I wrote and felt like crying.

“That's gotta suck,”

“It does. So what kind of music do you do?”

“You know what. Why don't you listen to it, and then tomorrow you can tell me what you think,”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, I want to see you again.” He wrote. I blushed. “We can meet at the park again. Tomorrow afternoon?”

I smiled and wanted to write 'Yes,' but stopped myself. He would only be disappointed. And then he would leave me.

I put down the phone without answering. My mother had left the sofa. I folded the blanket she had been covered in and put it back. Then I walked into the kitchen.

My father was sitting there with an empty look, staring at the newspaper and my mother was behind him preparing supper. As I sat down my father met my eyes and tried to smile. I looked away.

After a while he stood up and opened the refrigerator. He took out a beer can and opened it. My mother frooze and faced him.

“Please,” she said. “Please don't”

He put the can to his mouth and drank.

Furiously I walked back into the living room and picked up the phone. I couldn't stay like this anymore.

“Two o' clock, I'll be there,” I wrote.