Читать книгу Gabi, a Girl in Pieces - Isabel Quintero - Страница 24

September 10

My dad is a drug addict. A meth addict—as in crazy and desperate and never mentally here. But no one in our house ever says those words: drugs, addict or meth. It’s like we are forbidden to use them. My mom says, “Tu papa anda mal.” As if he just has the flu and a bowl of chicken noodle soup will fix him right up. But he’s an addict and has been since I was a little kid. I remember when I was in elementary school, he would ask to borrow money all the time. I think even then I knew what it was going towards, but I gave it to him anyway. What was I supposed to do? He’s my dad.

It’s embarrassing to see him in public, walking around like a homeless person, looking through garbage cans and hanging out with other people with the same “affliction.” Sometimes I’m scared that he won’t come home. Scared that we’ll get a call saying that his body was found in some park bathroom or on the side of some liquor store. I don’t know how to help him or what to do to make things better. I think I’m going to start writing him letters.

Dear Papi,

I write this letter to you knowing that you cannot read it because you are too high. I want to let you know that you make me mad. That I would die for you when you’re my dad. That I am tired of waiting for you every night and falling asleep at the door hoping you will come home. That I don’t want to see you passed out. That I don’t want to make breakfast for your “friends” anymore. That I know the money you take from me some mornings is not for gas. That I hate how you make me feel so small when you talk to me like that. That I hate to see Mom cry. That I hate it when Beto cries because you say you don’t love him. I know it’s the meth talking and not you. The real you used to take us to the park and take me for rides on your motorcycle. Papi, I want you to come back. I don’t want the dad who wanders the streets and sleeps in parking lots. I don’t want the dad who grows long beards who gives away everything—even his family for a fix. Papi, I want to know when you are coming home, so I can say I love you, and you will understand what those words really mean.

Papi, I miss you.

Gabi

I really have to get some homework done.