Then - Carmella
My fourteen-year-old self couldn't understand why I felt the way I did when he talked to me that day. It felt like a thousand hummingbirds were inside my tummy, fluttering away. My face was hot and I was nervous. I mean, sure, I have had crushes in the past - but this was different. Something about this boy was different and I just couldn't understand why.
I felt disappointed when his mom called him inside. I didn't want him to go. I wanted him to stay with me. I wanted him to climb up the tree and just hang out with me.
Is it possible to fall in love in five minutes?
"Carmella!" Dad's voice echoes through the backyard. "Get in here!"
Sighing, I begin the descent from my special spot and enter the house through the back door.
"Yeah, dad?" I call out as I walk through the various rooms in search of him. I find him on the kitchen floor, a smashed bottle laying on the floor beside him.
"Clean this fucking shit up, Carmella. Your slacking on your chores." He slurs as he attempts to lift himself from the floor.
"Okay, dad. Sorry." I say as I walk over to the closet to grab the broom. I get to work, sweeping the little brown pieces of glass that surround my dad as he continues to struggle with standing up.
It doesn't take me long to clean up the mess. Luckily, this was an empty bottle so I won't have to mop the floors too. I throw the glass in the garbage and put the broom away. Turning back to my dad, I see him fall to the ground and smash his head off of an open cupboard.
"Dad!" I shriek, running to him. "Are you okay?"
"Fucking stupid cupboard." He growls as he attempts to rip the door off its hinges. Blood begins running into his eyes from a two-inch gouge in his forehead.
"Let me clean you up, dad," I say as I grab a towel from the counter. "Hold onto this."
He takes the towel and holds it to his head. I wrap his free arm around my shoulders and use all my might to lift him off of the ground - all two hundred and ten pounds of him. It takes a moment, but I finally get him to his feet. Slowly, I guide him to the bathroom. My legs shake underneath his weight which is more than double me. As we walk, he takes up singing an old R.E.M. song called 'Everybody Hurts'.
I sit him on the toilet, making sure he is steady before I release my hold on him. Quickly, I look through the cupboard for the old first aid kit - finding it beneath the sink with the bleach and other cleaning supplies.
"You are such a good girl, Carmella." Dad slurs as he rocks back and forth to a tune that is only in his own head.
"Thanks. I need you to sit still so I can bandage you up." I order.
"You always take care of me. Like your mother used to." He continues, ignoring my command.
"Yeah, I know. I need you to not move, Dad."
"She used to love me, you know? She used to take care of me and...and do stuff for me. She used to look at me and there was this sparkle in her eye." He rants, his eyes showing all of these emotions that my brain couldn't comprehend. "She used to drink with me. Used to party with me. Used to like it when I-"
"I get it, dad," I say, attempting to shut him up. "Things change I guess."
"Yeah, things change." He repeats, thoughtfully. "Ain't that the truth."
"You're all done, dad."
"Thanks, Carmella." He says, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug.
"I'm going to go to bed," I say, pushing away from him.
"Okay." He says before singing another song. "Simple kinda man. Be something, you love and understand!"
Giggling, I exit the bathroom and go to my bedroom. Collapsing on the bed, I let thoughts of Mike flood my brain as I drift off into a restless sleep.