FicWad

I lived on a quiet street, the kind with cute, two story white houses. The kind that you’d always see in the movies, with a balding man in a polo in the front lawn, watering his wife’s flowers with the garden hose. It was all quiet, save with the little, light blue house directly in the center of the street: mine.

My family was the crazy one of the street; The only one that wasn’t perfectly uniformed in every aspect from their designer socks to their crisply ironed polo shirts. My family was loud and spontaneous, and they always had a beer in one hand.

I, Jami Roxanne Davis, am an only child, and I was thoroughly and completely happy about that. Not because I didn’t want another sibling; In fact, I wanted a little brother or sister more than anyone would ever know. But what I didn’t want was for them to have to deal with the adults that we would both call parents.

Both of my parents were alcoholics, and they had been for as long as I could remember. Every weekend morning at eleven they’d start up the stereo, sit on the porch listening to their 80's music, and down a twelve pack. It was sickening, really.

I didn’t even call them “mom” and “dad”, like most kids did. I saw no reason to. I didn’t respect them like a child should respect their parents. Why should I make them think I do? To me, they were simply Christina and Mike.

It was a Saturday, and their normal weekend ritual had already been going on for a good seven hours. The sun had recently set, and the sky was dark. Despite the lack of light, no one on the street had any trouble hearing the loud, drunken laugh of the two people on my patio.

I was locked in my room, attempting to block them out with music as I did my homework. I didn’t usually do homework on Saturdays, but there wasn’t much else I could do. All of my friends had plans, so I couldn’t take refuge at their house. I couldn’t go outside for fear of getting sucked into my parent’s drunken stupor. Although I would never drink the alcohol myself, once they spotted me, there was no way I was getting back into the house.

And, even as ‘The Misfits’ blasted through my ears, their laughter and screams could still be heard. But I wouldn’t dare go outside and say anything to them. I wasn’t exactly a fan of beer breath.

I lifted myself off my bed and headed towards the kitchen, where I quickly retrieved the phone from it’s hook. I couldn’t deal with this by myself, and only one person came in mind to call.

I dialed his number quickly, and held the phone up to my ear as I waited for him to pick up. My fingers drummed impatiently on my wooden night stand as the dial tone continued to play. I sighed with frustration when his pre-recorded voice came on. I wasn’t usually one for leaving messages, but this was important.

“Hey, It’s Gerard. I’m not here. You know what to do!” BEEEEEEEEEEEP


“Gee” I said quickly. I didn’t want to risk the chance of my parents coming in now. I didn’t know how they’d react to this. “It’s Jami. I can’t take it anymore, Gerard. And I know you know what I’m talking about. You’ve known Christina and Mike for longer than I have. I just don’t know what to do anymore.... Call me back.”

With a small ‘beep’ noise, the message was ended, and I hurled myself back onto my bed. This had to be the twentieth time I’d called Gerard this month about something like this. He knew how much I despised it, how much I despised them.

Gerard Way was my cousin, going to art school in New York City, south of the small, Upstate New York suburb in which I lived. His mother had been more maternal towards me than my own, and the same with his father. Im reality, I’d feel more comfortable calling them ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ instead of ‘Aunt Donna’ and ‘Uncle Don’.

Gerard was twenty, four years older than me. His brother, Mikey, was only older by one, and the three of us had always been like the three musketeers. Whatever we did, we did it together, the three of us. Mikey still lived at home with his parents in New Jersey. I hadn’t been able to visit him in three years.

Every family fights; It’s a natural thing. However, absolutely nothing about my family, or at least my immediate family, is natural. They’d pick fights over the littlest things, and no one would talk for another year. Then Christmas would come around, and Christina would make peace, for the simple fact that she didn’t want me to feel bad if I didn’t get any presents from my family.

Christina was Donna’s younger sister by seven years, and, at one time, they were extremely close, or so says my mother. But the only times I’ve seen them together, they were either ignoring each other or screaming in each other’s faces. Seeing Donna mad was scary; She was just a naturally happy person.

It was no secret that absolutely no one in my family was a fan of Mike. The fake laughs, the ‘smile-and-nod’ procedure, it was all there. The would even talk about what an idiot he was while I was around. I couldn’t blame them; I didn’t like my father, either.

And that was how this whole thing started. It was Easter, if I remember correctly, and we were all gathered at my grandparents house in Belleville. Almost all of my family lived in Belleville, except us. I was about thirteen at the time.

Dad had made some smart ass comment to Gerard, something about his hair being “too long for a man” or something stupid to that affect. And it had just escalated. Donna got pissed; She always got pissed when you insulted her children. What proper mother wouldn’t? And when the Way’s had walked out that front door that day, it was the last time I ever saw them in person.

Once Gerard went off to college, we’d find some opportunities to see each other. I’d have my friends drive me down to the city so we could meet up, talk about things we’d missed in our years of absence. I hated every minute of it.

Gerard was one of the only people that I talked to about my alcoholic parents. I’d call him and vent, and he’d just listen, giving advice when needed. It was good for me; I loved not feeling like I was being judged for the choices of the people that gave me life.

I shifted myself so I could better see the clock on my night stand: It wasn’t even seven thirty. Still, what else was there to do? I buried my head in my pillow and, not even bothering to change into pajamas or turn off my light, fell asleep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I woke up to a crash not too far from my head. I quickly lifted my head and looked around, looking for the source of the crash. And when I saw it, I couldn’t help but take in a sharp breath.

It was Aunt Donna, taking clothes out of my drawers and placing them carefully into a suitcase that sat my her feet. She must have heard my gasp, because she turned to me, and smiled brightly.

“Good morning, honey.” she greeted, as if everything about this scenario was completely normal.

“Aunt Donna” I said, sitting myself up and wiping the sleep away from my eyes. “What’s going on?”

“You’re coming to live with us.”

A/N -- So, I know it’s kind of lame, but it’s the first chapter. I promise it’ll get better. I really hope you like it, despite it’s lameness. :D
Be sure to tell me what you think!