Mom was crying. Dad was hugging her. I watched them through my bedroom window. The sun hung right above our house and it was another hot day in a long line of them. Funny, Dad usually wasn't home from work this early. I worried he might have been fired. It would explain Mom's crying. 

I saw them go into the house and I got off my bed, leaving my violin behind. Racing into the living room I was just in time to see them walk through the front door. Mom turned her face away and swiped at her tears. "Hi, Esther," she said. "Your daddy is home."

Dad knelt down and held his arms out for me. Without question I ran straight for him and he scooped me up in a hug. "How's my girl doing, eh? Still playing that old fiddle?"

"My ears don't bleed anymore," I said and he laughed before kissing my head. He set me down and had a seat in his favorite recliner. Mom had gone into the kitchen but I could still hear her sniffling and sobbing. I stood by my Dad and watched the kitchen door like she might come out of it any moment. "What's wrong with Mommy?"

Dad sighed and patted me on the head. "Nothing is wrong with your mother," he said. His eyes wouldn't meet mine. I got worried. He had been fired, hadn't he? He was out of work and we'd be worse off than we already were. I could just see the eviction notice plastered to our apartment door for all the neighbors to see. Living on the streets and sleeping in a tent. I could feel hot tears swimming in my eyes. 

"Is it your job?" I asked trying not to let my voice quaver. 

Before he could answer Mom came back with a tray of freshly baked muffins. Along with being a good waitress, she was a good cook too.Her eyes were red and she set the tray down on the little table. "I thought we could have a little talk while we eat," she said looking at me. I looked back at Dad and he only nodded his head. 

**********

I wasn't proud of myself. 

After getting home from the concert I lugged out the old bottle of Jack I kept locked away in the bottom cupboard. Pulling out a small glass I poured myself a healthy amount and lay on the couch while my Chopin record played. Scout sniffed my glass and I held it away from him, petting his ears. "Good boy," I said.

Why was I such a cold hearted bitch? This was the fourth time leaving Bon like that. Why did I have such a difficult time saying goodbye? Why did I always look like I was running away from him? Why was I so hopeless? 

I finished my glass and got myself another one. 

Now it was four in the afternoon and I was due at work in an hour. Hungover and horrible to look at, I stumbled into the shower and almost screamed from the shock of the cold water. Washing my hair as quick as I could I climbed out and hopped up and down trying to warm myself up. 

Finding some decent clothes to wear was a nightmare. I couldn't ever find the shirt I was looking for or something was in the hamper. Finally settling on something I thought I'd have a quick bite to eat first. I fried two eggs and threw the pan in the sink with a clang. The dishes had piled up. Soon I'd run out of clean plates. 

Scout watched me and tilted his head. Either he was concerned by my hurrying around or he just wanted a bite of my breakfast. I gave him the tiniest piece of crust from my toast. He gobbled it right up. "That's all. You know you shouldn't eat human food."

Scout thought otherwise. 

After I ate I threw my plate in the sink with the pan and grabbed my bag. My head was killing me. I didn't think I drank that much but apparently it was more than I thought. Or my alcohol tolerance was decreasing. I shuddered at the thought.

Kneeling down to Scout I gave him pets and kisses. "You're my good boy," I said. His brown eyes were wide and playful. He had been tossing around his chew toy whenever he got the chance. And when I took him outside for bathroom breaks he'd try eating the bugs he found in the grass. He was basically still a puppy despite his age. Giving him one last kiss on his snout and he giving me a lick on my nose, I stood up and left for work.

**********

"You don't look sick," I said. Mom burst into another round of tears while Dad picked me up to sit on his lap. 

"I may not look sick now," he said. "But if I don't take my medicine I will." The light left his eyes. "And if I do take my medicine....I will..."

"Will you be okay?" I looked at him, hoping with all my heart he would say yes. To vanquish all my fears that he would get worse and die...that he would leave us forever and I'd never see him again...

"We'll see," was all he said. 

**********

"Esther Marino, where have you been?" I groaned as I heard Celine marching up to me from behind. She was speaking in rapid French. When she finally came into view she was not happy. "You're late," she said. 

"I know, I know," I sighed, rubbing my temple. "I was an idiot and lost track of time." That seemed to be the easier explanation. Celine wasn't appeased. 

"How can I sign you up for dances when you're not here?" she asked, showing me her clipboard. I saw everyone's names except mine. And I saw Jeanie's name about a thousand times. The one spot she had me signed up for I missed and she crossed my name out. "You've never been this late before."

"I know, I'm sorry," I said hoping we could get the subject off my idiocy. The other girls were starting to stare at us. Celine must have noticed because she lowered her voice. 

"Something going on at home?" she asked. I froze up. "Something troubling you?"

"No," I said standing as straight as I could. The lights backstage were shining right into my soul and I felt like throwing up my eggs and toast but I would show her I was totally good to work. Absolutely nothing wrong with home. "Everything is fine."

Celine narrowed her eyes. But she left it at that. "I might not be able to get a dance for you," she said calming down. "You know that right?"

"I know, I know....can't you just...give me the bar or something?" Ah, yes, put the hungover chick in the bar where she's surrounded by her favorite drink. 

Celine looked over her clipboard. "I can't, I already have Diane and Lucille on the job." I wanted to lie face down on the floor and sleep. Or cry my eyes out, I couldn't decide which. "I'm sorry, Loulou."

I turned to walk away, hating myself. I had nobody to blame but me. I sat down on one of the chairs and massaged my temples. "You okay, Esther?" I looked up to see Margot looking at me with concern. Her dresses were the only ones in the entire club that had sleeves. Celine allowed it as it payed respect to her family's religious beliefs. Not only that but her dresses were always so colorful and Margot made them herself. I admired her work. 

"Do you have an aspirin or something?" I asked. Margot fetched her purse off a hanger and rummaged around, pulling out a small tablet. "Thank you," I said and dry swallowed it. 

"So how was the concert?" she asked, her eyes lighting up. Before I knew it, the other girls had surrounded me, Barbara and Betty pushing their way to the front of the group. 

"Was it exciting?" Barbara asked. "Or drab and dull?"

"Are they cute?" Sally asked. "Tell me they're cute!"

"I heard they play loud."

"How long was the show?"

Suddenly all their voices melted into one and my headache worsened. I wasn't sure who to answer first. As soon as one girl finished asking her question, another one would start. A sudden loud and shrill whistle scared us all and the girls quieted down. "Let's give her a chance," Margot said and everyone was quiet, waiting for me.

"The concert was...really fun," I said and they all beamed. "They play just as good live as they do on the album. Better even."

"Oh, that's such a relief!" Barbara said. "I hate when bands are rubbish live."

"Was the place packed?" Betty asked, her curls bouncing. 

"Very," I said. "It was a full house."

The girls started to chat among themselves excitedly. This new band had really riled everyone up. And for good reason. Their music was electric. It grabbed you and made you want to dance. I could see them being very popular back home once the punk obsession subsided. Once they gave rock and roll a chance it might be even bigger than punk. London was punk positive as well. Not a bad thing in my opinion. But this band...AC/DC....was changing something. 

"Is that all?" a voice called out from the crowd. We all turned to see Jeanie Patterman saunter up to the front. She was in a rich purple dress and her hair was done up in combs. I rolled my eyes and felt my head throb. "You just saw them play and then went home? You should have forced your way backstage and met the band!"

"Security would have gotten her," Barbara said. 

"They wouldn't have gotten me," Jeanie said. "What a waste, Esther, you get tickets to see the greatest band in the world and you blow it!"

I felt the blood rush to my face and I clenched my fists. Deep breaths weren't working. I stood from my chair, the legs scraping against the floor. "The band invited me backstage," I admitted. Jeanie's eyes widened. I looked around the group and they were all in shock. "One of them saw me at the bar and I got called back. I met the band."

"You met them? Betty asked her voice going up ten octaves. "You met the whole band?"

"Yes, I did." If they weren't excited before they certainly were now.

"They're cute right? Right?" Sally asked jumping up and down. 

I laughed. "Yes, very cute."

"What are their names? Which one is which?"

I tried to remember. "Well, the one in the uniform is Angus," I said. He was easy to remember. "There was another man named Mal....probably short for something. Uh...the drummer is named Phil. He has strikingly blue eyes." Sally giggled. "The bassist is Cliff and the singer is...." I swallowed. "The singer's name is Bon."

"Oh, I'm so happy for you!" Betty said grabbing me in a tight hug. She lifted me off the floor and I gasped for breath. "But I'm so jealous!"

"Me too," Sally said, twirling her long blonde hair. "I'd give anything to see those men."

"Who's your favorite?" Barbara asked. My heart pounded like a drum and my hands felt clammy. Were any of them really my favorite? Was it right to pick a favorite? Bon immediately came to mind but that's because he was my....friend? 

"Bon I suppose," I said. 

"Ooh, why?" Betty asked. She tapped her fingertips against each other like she was concocting a devious plan. "Is he the most charming one?"

"They're all charming," I said. "They're lovely men. But Bon is...." I searched the air for the right word and bit my lip. As tempting as it was, I wasn't giving up my secret. "Comforting."

"Don't get any ideas, Marino," Jeanie said pointing a finger at me. "I still plan to go to their show next week and find a way backstage."

"Go ahead," I said. "No skin off my nose." I really wasn't too concerned. She could go backstage and sleep with all five of them if she wanted and what would that prove? That she was somehow better or more desirable than me? I grew out of that mindset after high school. Jeanie could do what she liked. 

Jeanie smiled. "Glad to hear it." And she turned on her heel and strutted off, her head held high. 

"We're so happy for you," Margot said smiling. I smiled back, my headache finally lifting. Being surrounded by all the support was really a wonderful feeling. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Celine looking at me. She smiled and walked away, probably happy to see her girls getting along. 

**********

"Can I help?" I asked as Mom cleared away the tray of muffins. She had finished crying by now and only sniffed here and there.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but the medicine costs a lot of money," she said. "And you're way too young to work."

"But I can earn some," I said. "Lana had a lemonade stand last summer and she made a few dollars off of that. I could sell some things..."

"Honey, we don't want you to worry about any of that," Dad said. "You don't have to sell anything."

"But there must be something I can do," I protested. 

Dad looked at me thoughtfully. "Tell you what," he said. "You keep practicing that violin of yours....and when you get really good you can play me pretty music while I get better. How does that sound?"

It didn't sound like anything really. I wasn't sure how my violin could do anything to make Dad feel better. But if it's what he really wanted... "Okay," I said. He smiled and ruffled my hair. 

"That's my girl."

**********

I stared at the dusty case sitting on the floor. I hadn't opened it in years. Part of me was afraid some spiders had worked their way inside and would come rushing out if I opened it. That happened once when Nana opened a box of linguine. It scared me out of eating pasta for a while. 

It wasn't even in tune anymore. And I had a hard time tuning by ear. That was one thing I never really got the hang of. Dad always tuned it for me. And he wasn't here. 

Scout whined from the floor.

"I'm coming, boy," I said. I stood from the couch and went to grab his bag of dog food. After pouring him a bowl I made myself some oatmeal. I actually hated oatmeal but it was healthy and that was most important to me. Just don't tell anyone I washed it down with a bottle of soda. 

After dinner I rummaged through my records. It wasn't a large collection but I was proud of it all the same. Dad had tons of records. He let me listen to them all the time. Mostly Little Richard and Ray Charles. We would dance in the living room while Mom sewed the holes in my dresses. Mom was more of a jazz fan and introduced me to Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday. I loved all of it. My parents suggested I give classical a try as well, as the violin was considered a classical instrument. Now that I was on my own, I started my own collection of records. 

Maybe I could pick up a few sometime. They didn't cost a lot and there was always something new floating around. Maybe I could find AC/DC and give them a proper try. Scout finished his food and came leaping toward me, sniffing the records. "You wanna pick one?" I asked letting him sniff around. He seemed particularly interested in Little Richard so I popped that one on the table and played it. 

I began to dance. Dancing was a good way to ward off the cold. It was good exercise and it passed the time. Scout spun in circles and wagged his tail. I decided to spend my evening with my best boy and forget all about life's problems. No more awkward social situations, no more showing up late to work, no more working to live, and no more bills. 

And certainly no more open drawers.