East Kids - Tessa & Elijah

Chapter 6

Elijah

"Dad", I shout through the whole house, expecting to hear the usual humming from any room, to show me that he heard me. To my astonishment, however, I am surprised to hear: "If you want something, you have to come here". "Why?" I shout again and try to find out from which direction his voice is reaching my ears. "Because I don't want to scream through the whole house', he now also screams. The irony of his words seems not to have struck him.

Fortunately, I can estimate the direction in which he might find himself relatively well now. With my mobile phone in my hand I stop in front of his room door and knock: "Can I come in? "Sure, I told you to come in," the male voice of my father sounds from inside.

I briefly consider reminding him that he shouldn't say something like that too hastily, because it really took a long time to erase my father's picture on a naked woman from my head, but then I leave it. Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, I count to ten inside again, in order to at least give him the opportunity to get dressed quickly.

All the more surprised I am when I open the door after a few seconds and find my dad again in front of the mirror. He has dressed up noticeably. Only his brown-blonde hair, which in no way resembles my dark brown, is as fuzzy as ever. One could almost think that it would be his trademark.

"Wow, did I miss something?" I ask, surprised and let myself fall on his bed: "Maybe a party for singles from sixty plus?" I see his slightly sour facial expression in the mirror and his eyes wandering in my direction.

"First of all you should pay better attention in math, my son, because then you would know that I would still be too young for these parties", he almost sounds like a responsible fifteen-year-old, who explains to his friends why he can't come to the hip clubs yet: "And secondly it's parents' evening today. I can't show up in a T-shirt and shorts."

"But in a two thousand dollar suit or what?", I look skeptically at the black suit and the matching bow tie: "This is a parents' evening and not a Tinderdate." "I know that", now he turns around to me: "Besides, I would never show up on a date like that." "But on a parents' evening, I grin and let myself sink into his pillows to evade his reproachful look: "But you're not trying to get close to one of the single moms again, are you? That didn't go well last time. Besides, you only get the old assistant of our director." "You don't have to remind me again and again", he smoothes out his dark suit jacket: "I just want to make a good impression. You should try it, too."

I give him an offended look. "What did you actually want?", now he lets himself sink into the pillows next to me. "I just wanted to say that maybe I'll go to someone's party from the step on Friday," I explain briefly. "Are you asking me in a strange way if you can go or are you just telling me without asking for permission?

"Actually, it was just information," I bite my lower lip. "Let's assume that I accept this info in such a way, whose party would it be then", he jumps on this train. "I don't care who the organizer is," I shrug my shoulders bored. Every year somebody organizes a party at the beginning of the school year and I never care who organizes it. So why should I pay attention this year?

"Hey, I just want to know where to pick you up when the neighbors call the police again. That's all," my father does, played and uninterested. However, I know exactly that it is important to him to know where I am going. I am the only family he still has after Mom just disappeared. He just doesn't want to lose me.

So I sigh fruitfully and start reading the message again to look for the place. "991 5th Avenue," I read, but still don't pay attention to the sender's name. After all, I don't go there because of this person, but only because of my friends and the free alcohol.

"Isn't that right next door", my father stabs again. To avoid his further questions, I take a look at my wristwatch: "Shouldn't you be getting ready? The single ladies are waiting for you."

Afraid that he'll throw a slipper at me if I pester him any further, I get up from his bed again and make my way to the door.

But just when I set foot in the hallway and begin to lull myself into safety, another comment follows: "But think of the condoms on Friday. You would be a lousy father!"

For a moment I want to stop and counter, but then leave it at that. After all, my dad is already very relaxed and shows a lot of understanding for me. If I were to remind him now of Mom's own early pregnancy and the fact that he wanted to leave her because of it, I would later hate myself for it.