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Gabi, a Girl in Pieces. Isabel Quintero
Читать онлайн.Название Gabi, a Girl in Pieces
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781935955962
Автор произведения Isabel Quintero
Жанр Учебная литература
Издательство Ingram
Dear Papi,
I am so excited that you have decided to get sober! You have tried this before, but this time I know things will be different. I can feel it. Not in the way that tía Bertha claims to feel things, but deep inside. Things will be hard for a while, and you will probably suffer, but I think it will all be worth it. Life will definitely not be like it used to be. I don’t remember a time when you weren’t an addict, but Mami does and she says you were an awesome man. I know that when you’re not using, you’re an amazing person. You’re funny and caring and a good person. I can’t wait to see you like that all the time. It will be a big change for all of us. But a good change. Maybe when you’re clean, you can have a better relationship with Beto. He loves you so much even though you always push him away. Why do you push him away? Is it because he’s like you? Stubborn, good hearted, prideful, sensitive and quiet? Maybe. Whatever the reasons, I know things will be different once you’re clean. Father and son will get along better and we can grow as a family.
I love you, Papi.
Gabi
Maybe when he’s clean I can read him that one.
Family is one of those things you can’t escape and mine is no different. Apparently getting sober didn’t mean going to rehab. Why would I think that that is what it meant? Oh, Gabi, you’re so funny. No, Dad said he could go cold turkey. Again. That he could stop whenever he wanted to. Again. He has tried this method once, twice, and now he’s going for the third time. The hallucinating will start soon. Then he will begin killing demons (inside and out), screaming in pain. The spiders will arrive after that. The bugs under his skin that make him scratch and bleed. It’s horrible. I only know what’s coming because the first time, when I was twelve, my mom told us what would happen so we wouldn’t be scared. I think it was really so she wouldn’t be scared. It hasn’t really helped. Beto and I slept in the same bed for weeks. I’m not a little kid anymore though, and I know my dad isn’t/will never be himself again. He’ll always be a man struggling with an addiction and every day will be a battle for him. Like I said, the beast never goes away. And it’s calling all the shots. Sometimes it just wants you to think your dad is getting sober and will be the man he wants to be. But the whole time, it’s in control.
School didn’t really matter today. I told Cindy and Sebastian what was going on, and they tried to be understanding. I really don’t feel like I can tell Eric because even though we’re going out, I’m not sure I can trust him with something like that. The only two people who know about my dad’s “problem” are Cindy and Sebastian and only because of that time we saw him at the park. Talk about being mortified.
Eric was upset because I wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, but I said it was girl stuff, and he backed off. He seemed somewhat afraid to touch me after that. I told him it wasn’t contagious. He got really uncomfortable so I went to the library to write my grandpa poem, but I couldn’t figure anything out. To top it off, I have to start writing the college essays that I should have started writing a month ago. Ms. Rodriguez, my counselor, says we should be on our second or third drafts because they are due at the end of November. Since I want to apply to six different universities, I have a shit-load to write. AHHHHHHHH! I think I should just go to sleep. Maybe I’ll be sick tomorrow and not go to school. No, my dad will be home. School will probably be less crazy.
I don’t know how I feel about having a boyfriend now that I have one. I mean, I know how I feel about the kissing and holding hands: I totally love it! But the whole following me around and having to spend every freaking lunch together has me a bit smothered. And to top it off, he told me he loved me! Loved. Me. I didn’t know what to say so I acted like there was a bee in my shirt. I didn’t want to say “I love you” back because I don’t love him, and it would be a lie, and I hate lying. So I wrote a letter to him (that I probably won’t send) expressing how I feel about our current situation.
Dear Eric,
I enjoyed the moments we spent together out in the hallway. And by the gym. And in your car. And by the photography classroom. Your breath smelled divine. I like how you remembered to chew some gum before getting really close to me. I obviously forgot as you could smell by the aroma of Hot Cheetos emanating from my soft luscious lips that one time last week. Anyway, I want to tell you how much I like you. I don’t think I would, or should, use the word love because that is reserved for special occasions. Not to say that you are not special, just not that special—yet. When I see you, I want to run to you and hug you and throw you up against a wall and feel the wetness of your lips. I want to stroke your hair and hold your hand and walk with you at lunch time and have people say, “Is he really going out with her?” Maybe that fat girl ain’t so bad after all, they think. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I don’t want to lie to you either. I believe in honesty. Don’t you?
Yours fondly,
Gabi H.
I don’t think I could bring myself to send it. I don’t know how he would take it. I’m going to talk to Cindy about this tomorrow and see what she thinks I should do. Or maybe not. She’s been feeling pretty emotional lately, and I’m not in the mood for the Wrath of the Pregnant Girl. I didn’t realize having a boyfriend would be so much trouble. I don’t want to think about this today. I will think about it in the morning. I guess I might as well finish up my grandpa poem since the first draft is due tomorrow.