Teenage girl makes a new Daddy out of her teacher
Damn, the word ‘Eviction’ looks even scarier when it’s in all caps, Jordan thought, nudging the white page which was decorated from top to bottom with various numbers; none of them were in his favor.
Jordan’s wooden chair creaked as he turned to the kitchen window behind him, above the sink. The curtains danced in the spring breeze, while heavy rain outside speckled along the windowsill. When one couldn’t afford air conditioning, they accepted any form of cool air they could get.
Well, there’s no rain in hell. I’ll take it while I can, he thought.
If humor could pay the bills, Jordan’s pathetic teacher’s salary wouldn’t be that much of a problem. But, alas, it was microwave dinner again for the thirty-year-old man. At least the microwave was being positive, it even let out a happy ‘ding’ when it was done making up for Jordan’s lack of money. He walked over and pried the Microwave door open hungrily.
“A daily dose of cholesterol,” Jordan sighed as he was about to pull his less than gourmet feast out of a less than functioning machine. A funny statement considering he was pretty well built for someone his age, especially someone who spent most of his time grading papers; empty papers, mostly.
A gust of wind rushed into the house as the front door swung open, and along with it was a soaking wet figure. She panted, gripping her knees with her hands as she bent over. “I’m — here,” she sighed, yet tried to maintain that sweet ‘Honey, I’m home!’ voice.
“I can see that,” Jordan sighed, slamming the microwave door shut and rushing to her side. The door hinge hissed as he fought with the wind for a good three seconds before being able to close it shut. He looked at the not-so-mysterious figure before him and pulled back the veil of its small, black hoodie. It revealed the golden-brown face of a teenage girl, drenched with water that curled over her upper eyelids – a soft film of protection for her hazel-brown eyes — and dripped down to her small, rounded nose and firm cheeks.
While her face was usually a smiling portrait, one thing, in particular, broke the symmetry of her expression; and that was the cut on the bottom right side of her chin. It seemed like the rain washed away what would have been a heavy bath of crimson running down her neck, but the wound still needed to be tended to. “Don’t– worry about it, okay?” she said, rolling her petite upper body up straight from her leaning position. She grabbed a handful of her long, silky, jet-black hair and wrung out enough water to fill a cup, maybe two.
“You keep bringing home a couple more of those and we’ll have enough scars for the whole neighborhood,” Jordan tried to say without chuckling.
Jordan dabbed a cloth, which he grabbed from the nearby basket on top of the washing machine, on the girl’s face. When one lived in a house that small, everything seemed to be nearby.
“I stayed for track practice, but then I had to deal with a couple of guys who wanted more than my money this time. And of-fucking-course it decides to rain when I miss my last bus and…” she moved her soft lips vigorously as she ranted about probably the worst thirty minutes of her week. “Sorry. I know. ‘Language’.”