Page 3 of Motorycle Daddies

“Did you take something? What’s going on?”

He drinks the rest of his coffee in one large gulp, then stands up and shuffles toward his room. Oddly, other than a hangover, he seems mostly sober. No glassy eyes.

His behavior is still off, and he doesn’t respond. So, I follow him. “Don’t walk away from me!”

“I’m not. I need to get to work. So do you.” He’s not looking at me when he says it. Instead, he’s rummaging in the back of his closet and pulling out a small suitcase and a duffel bag. He starts filling the bag—a stash of cash I didn’t know he had in his underwear drawer, and some clothes.

“What the hell are you doing?” I feel hysterical. I don’t get what he’s talking about. People knowing where we live? Renting out the house? And he seems to think that wherever he’s going, I’m going too.

I have no idea what to do. It’s like he’s lost it. This doesn’t seem like his usual drunkenness or hungover morning, though. This seems like something else.

My heart is racing with anxiety.

He just keeps going. “We have to go. Just like I said. They’re going to come. And I can’t have you here when they come either. We’re going to get away from all of this for a while. Maybe if I have a break from this life…” He’s still packing frantically, already zipping up the duffel bag.

I physically get in front of him, blocking him from the small suitcase. “Who’s they? Talk to me. You sound crazy.”

He looks me dead in the eye. “There’s no time to explain. It’ll have to wait. We’re both in danger. Let’s go.”

I purse my lips at him again. “Even if I believed you, I can’t just up and leave. I have a life here. College. A future.”

He shakes his head and actually pushes me out of the way. It’s a little harder than I expect.

He’s back to packing but shakes his head. “You can delay for a semester or something. Maybe you can transfer to wherever we end up, I don’t know. But is it really worth your life?”

“My life? Seriously, Dad, what did you take? Who did you run into at the casino?”

I’m really scared. He’s never acted like this before. Paranoid. Vague. But he just keeps on packing. When he’s done, he goes into my room and starts pulling my clothes out of the closet.

“Dad!” I scream at him. I try to stop him, but he gets physical, shoving me so hard my back hits the wall. I will have bruises later.

“This is getting out of hand. If you keep it up, I’m going to call the cops. You’re gonna go to jail where you can dry out from whatever the hell this is, and then they can put you in rehab when you’re done serving for the assault. I’m so sick of this!”

My father stops, and looks at me. Something comes over his face, though I can’t quite place it. “I warned you,” he says before going back into his room only to grab the two bags he packed and then head out the door.

I watch him leave in stunned silence.

2

MEREDITH

Ispot a familiar red car and walk over to it, beaming. Almost all my stress from this morning is immediately forgotten as I open the door to Addy’s car.

“Girl, why does it feel like I haven’t seen you in forever?” she says between pops of the bubblegum in her mouth.

I climb into the car and shut the door, reaching over to turn the music down some. Addy has a habit of leaving it way too loud and just trying to talk over it.

“That’s because I’ve been completely slammed. College is such a bitch these days.”

“Well, watch out. Sweet little Meredith is using naughty words.”

I roll my eyes. “As if you’ve never heard me curse.” I know she’s just teasing, and I hide a smile as she takes off down the road. We’re on our way to pick up Harley for our girls’ day. Exactly what I need right now.

“So true. But I have no idea what you’re talking about as far as college.” She turns just long enough to wink at me.

“Don’t brag like a bitch,” I tell her. She only laughs. Addy is an art major. While she does take her classes seriously, she doesn’t have anywhere near the workload I do. And her entire department is pretty much one big party.

Not only can I not afford the time to join said party, but honestly, growing up with my father has left me a little bit cautious of such environments. Not that I don’t drink or have a good time, but I try my best not to ever take it too far.

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