I can still hear my dad getting ready to go out as I lay in bed.  I know he will be coming by our room any minute to check on me.  It's almost a nightly ritual.  My brother and I had been in bed for about an hour.  He is fast asleep.  I can't sleep because I know what is going to happen.  I hear my dad's footsteps coming towards our room.  The door creaks open.  He whispers, "Dougie?  Are you awake?"  I never answer the first time.  He asks again.  This time I respond, "Yes.  What is it?"  He replies, "Ummm...I have to run up town for some cigarettes.  I'll be back in a few minutes.  You need to get to sleep."  I say, "OK but come right back dad."  He assures me he will and leaves.  I know hes not coming right back.

                I get up and make sure my brother is covered up and asleep.  I leave my room and see what time it is.  It's only 9:30 PM.  I look around for a snack and then go turn on the television.  I flip around for a little bit. There's nothing on.  I see headlights coming through the window.  For a brief second, I think maybe he did come right back.  Then the lights continue up the road and the hope is lost.  I know it will be another long night of arguing, fighting and me not sleeping.  I go back and lay in the darkness.  Hoping my dad is alright and that he gets home before my mom does at 2:30 AM.  They have been fighting a lot lately and they keep talking about divorce.  I think about that for awhile.  I'm not exactly sure what it is.  It sounds terrible.  I doze off for a bit.  Then the phone rings.  It's loud and piercing.  I know it's my mom.  I can't answer it because then I would be telling on my dad.  However, when no one answers, she knows he's not there anyway.  I would love to pick it up and tell her we're fine and not to worry about dad being gone.  After all, he said he was coming right back.  That was two hours ago.

                Awhile later, the phone rings again.  It seems even louder this time.  I pull the covers and pillow over my head to quiet the noise.  Then I get up and start looking out the window.  Praying that every set of headlights I see is my dad.  I watch and I watch.  The lights are never his.  It's getting late now; almost 2:00 AM.  I start getting really anxious.  I dont want to hear the fighting.  I walk around the dark house aimlessly, enjoying the silence.  I figure I'd better get to bed.  Mom will be home soon.  I dont want her to think I've been up this whole time.  That will make it worse. 

                I hear mom's car pull in.  She slams the door because dad's truck is gone.  I hear her pick up the phone and call my grandparents.  She asks if they have heard from my dad.  Of course, they have not.  She starts crying.  She is doing her best.  I hear my dad's truck pull in.  He comes through the front door.  I can only imagine what kind of shape he is in.  My mom yells something at him.  He slurs something back, but his drunkenness will not allow the words to make sense.  She calls him a no good, alcoholic bum.  He slams something down and breaks it.  I grab pillows and stuffed animals and try to shut out the noise.  It doesnt help.  I just hope my baby brother doesnt wake up.  The two eventually go outside, but I can still hear them.  I can hear my dad punching the house.  I get up and peek out to make sure he's not hitting my mom.  They come back in and my dad finally passes out on the couch.  My mom washes her face and gets into bed.  I try and sleep, but I can hear her crying.  I feel like comforting her.  I dont know how.   I'm only eight years old.  I have to try and sleep now, but it's hard because I know it will probably happen again tonight.