I didn't want to get up for I was becoming scared at what might be there.

continued from 1/12/12
At some point my mother was with us again and we had moved into a larger living space within the same building; this one had a private bathroom, a kitchenette, a small living area and very small bedroom. My sister and I had the bedroom and our own little separate beds. Even though this apartment was bigger it felt darker because the windows were smaller and covered by bars. We spent one Christmas there; I remember my father trying to roast chestnuts on Christmas eve and a small sparsely decorated tree. Over the holiday I was in charge of the class turtle, Chuck; he didn't move much or come out of his shell so I would pick him up and give his belly a squeeze so he would pop his head out.  My class had a nice memorial for Chuck once school resumed.  On New Years Day we went a block down the street to watch the Rose Parade, what fun! One night, in the spring, I was awoken by a sound at the window, we were on the second floor so immediately I was thinking some kind of bird or rodent was trying to get in. Plink, plink, plink, plink. . . I didn't want to get up for I was becoming scared at what might be there; suddenly a big bang!  Do I dare go look. . . I did dare and what I saw made me relax; it was my father, in the ally, tossing gravel at the window.  He must have been locked out out the building after a night of hanging at the bar and needed someone to let him in. There was a curfew, if you didn't make it back by a certain time the front door was closed and locked; you could leave but not come back in.  I tried to wake my mom but she was dead to the world and my little sister was also sound asleep; I guess it was up to me to let him in, only I didn't want to.  Letting him in would mean I had to get up and go down an unlit hallway to the stairs then down the stairs to the front door. I was afraid of what might be hiding in the darkness but more afraid of my father and his temper; he was a mean drunk, a very mean drunk. He knew I had seen him so I had to go let him in; I think I held my breath the whole way down the hall and the stairs.  My father was swaying at the door and staggered in as I opened it; he didn't seem angry just very grateful he didn't have to spend the night in the ally. The trip back to our apartment seemed to take forever and once back my father collapsed on the fold out couch; I crawled back into my little bed and silently cried. By that summer we had moved again, this time into a very nice apartment complex with a pool.