She continued to check on her Dad. Consistently, like clockwork. Every five minutes she was up the stairs, and I’d hear her ask him something, making sure he was responding, before returning down the stairs. We’d just started eating, sitting at her small table, talking quietly. I kept the subject on light, simple things, but it’s difficult thing to do when one person kept leaving to check on their drunk father.
We’d just finished discussing the English essay, yes I’d given up on avoiding school topics, when she glanced up at the clock, stood up and left to check on her Dad. I sat there poking a piece of chicken on my plate, totally unprepared for what came next.
Her (Yelling franticly): Dad! Dad! (pause) Drew! Call 911, now!
For a moment I sat there in shock, and then I heard her yell again, this time her voice cracked with fear.
Her: Dad! please!
I leaped out of the chair and grabbed the phone, dialing 911 faster than I thought was humanly possible.
Shit. This cannot be happening.