Smile

My father was admitted to the hospital and I, without any fight, was admitted into a cell at juvenile hall. I wasn’t as miserable as I thought I would be. I was held over the weekend without visitors.

Dad, of course, would not come and see me.
Mom would take Dad’s side.
My brother—couldn’t care less about me.
My sister, well, I kind of thought it would be great for her to magically appear on the other side of the Plexiglas shield in the visitor’s area.
April-had she known, she would have joined in the fight and would be in the cell next to me, maybe.

They had me in an over-sized orange jumpsuit with no access to personal effects. I could make a phone call and I called April who, not sure how, found a way to come see me.

“Are you okay?”
“I’m at peace. Kind of bored, I guess.”
“You’re in the paper,” April replied. “They wouldn’t let me bring it in.”
“I’m famous,” I said with a weak smile. “Yea.”
“Your dad’s still in the hospital.”
“Let me guess, it’s all my fault?”
“No, you did what you had to do.”
“That’s something I’ve been trying to tell myself all these years.”
April nodded.

“It’s fine. I mean, maybe in a few days we’ll all go see one of those nice doctors who will want us to pay a lot of money to get us to all talk and sit together at dinner. We haven’t done that in years.”
April’s family sat together every night they were at home. Sure, she had a side that pissed her parents off, but they always ate together without a scowl on any of their faces even when April got in trouble at school because of me-they still welcomed me. I wanted to ask her if there was ever a way I could with her, but I felt that would be too forceful and completely rude to force my living conditions on her.
“I asked my parents if you could stay with us.”
“What did they say?”
“They said they’d have to talk with your parents.”
I had a slight smile on my face and then a frown but then a brighter smile.
“Shouldn’t be a problem. I’m sure they want to get rid of me.”
“That’s what I said. They didn’t like how I said it, but-“
“It’s true. I mean, I am here, right? Can’t make me go cool down or something so instead, call the police.”
April looked to the floor and then back to me.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“A little time. A little hope.”
“Big friends?”
“Always.”

We talked for the remaining time we had together. April promised that she would come to visit me again as soon as she could, assuming her parents would bring her across town and assuming I would still be in juvenile. I went back to the cell area where I was by myself, apparently I picked the weekend to fight with my dad when everyone else was a perfect angel or had killed some old man and had not been caught. Which was great because I didn’t really want to answer the “why ya here” question.

On Monday, I was still there. I didn’t ask why. I didn’t care really. It wasn’t like I had anything to call my own at home anymore. I was pretty sure Dad had barked-or maybe wheezed-the order to complete what he started: removing everything from my room that held meaning to me.
All of my clothes: burn them-assuming they couldn’t sold.
My notebooks; burn them.
The earrings, bracelets, the destroyed pendant? Toss it into the burning barrel.
Yep, everything could be cleansed by fire.