The Saints Can't Help Me Now

I sit in the waiting room with my little brother on my lap and my angry grandparents bickering about my mom’s stupid decisions on either side of me. Matthew falls in and out of sleep. Poor sleepy boy was woken up by that racket. My mom and Frieda are fine, but they were taken to the hospital because my mom was passed out and Frieda needed stitches on her forehead. My mom pressed the gas instead of the break when she was trying to park the car in the driveway and landed in the living room. It didn’t help that it was dark, and that my mom had had 7 beers. Frieda wasn’t mad at my mom, but it may have been because she was completely wasted.

My mom walks out with a frown on her face, and my grandparents quickly get up and confront her, telling her how irresponsible she is and how she endangered her child and how she was going to get him taken away if she didn’t straighten out.

My mom picks up my brother and gives him a kiss on the forehead. “I’m calling a cab.”

We return to my house in a cab after Frieda was released. The house was still livable. The frame didn’t buckle, and they had patched up the wall with boards. My phone still laid on the floor where I had thrown it right before so I picked it up.

Without checking my calls, I called Johnny while walking up to my room.

“Hi Sweetheart.” He answers.

“My night has been hell.”

He laughs. “Is that why you haven’t been answering my calls?”

“Well, I didn’t have my phone. I got an unexpected call and then my mom crashed through the front of my house with her car.”

“Oh my god! Is she okay? Is Matthew okay?”

I smile. I think I made the right choice. “Yeah babe, they’re all fine. Frieda has a head injury but not anything a few stiches didn’t fix.”

“Babe? That’s new.” I blush. I didn’t even realize I had said it. “So, Frieda was in the car? Were you and Matthew in the car?”

“No, I was at home with Matthew. My mom and Frieda had went to the bar.”

“Your mom made you stay at home so she could go drinking with your friend? That doesn’t sound right.”

“No, I backed out. I haven’t been feeling great.”

“I’ll see you in a few days, that will make you feel better Darlin’”

I blush again, although he can’t see. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, sweetheart. Go sleep, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Sweet dreams.”

I hang up the phone and sigh in content. Johnny Knoxville is the sweetest man. I hope I don’t fuck this one up.