Chapter Text
~JACKIE BURKHART~
Two weeks and three days, but I wasn't counting…I swear. I just had a good memory, as far as time went. But anyways, as I was saying: two weeks and three days since my mom left to God-knows-where to drink tequila and margaritas until day and night blurred together to simply just become passing time.
My mother always said that was the only thing she could remember about being drunk; the sensation of time passing, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, yet always unaware of how much of it had actually gone by.
But I could tell her exactly how much. Two weeks and three days.
o-o-o
I took two steps into the foyer before the echo of my heels on the marble floor became too much to handle. The distant sound kept ringing in my ears, the unwelcome reminder that I was the only flesh and blood that walked through this flashy, not-so-humble abode.
Before taking another step, I slip off my shoes then drop them at the base of the stairs before heading for the kitchen. I switch on the light and sit down at the table and start sorting through the pile of mail I grabbed on my way up the drive.
Bill. Bill. Advertisement. Bill. I set the bills to one side of the table as I continue through the pile. It was a good thing I had figured out my father's office, down to every last piece of paper. Last time around, when my dad was first sent to prison, it was Steven who helped me figure things out, helping me with the bits and pieces of information he had picked up from when he was in the same boat a few years back. Now I didn't even cringe at the idea of figuring out these bills that were supposed to have been my mother's responsibility after my dad was incarcerated.
Thinking about Steven immediately brightened my spirits, my mind immediately flashing back to this afternoon filled with stomach clenching laughter after we took my failed-cookies-turned-Frisbees and flung them at Eric and Fez for taunting Steven about his sister and Michael.
"That," he had said, pointing at the door Eric and Fez had ran through to escape our wrath, "was the best part of my day. Thank you." He had pulled me close.
"Well, Frisbees weren't the desired effect, but I'm glad it helped," I had giggled, meeting his lips halfway.
The smile on my face now, caused by this fresh memory, wavers slightly as my eyes focus on the letter at the bottom of the pile. Addressed to me.
My hands quaver as I tear open the envelope. I take one shallow breath before unfolding the letter.
Dear Jacqueline Burkhart,
Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance to Marquette University's undergraduate…
The rest of the words blur together, but I force my eyes to refocus and finish the letter. With each word, my stomach clenches tighter and tighter; a mix of eager anticipation that makes my heart flutter in my chest.
But with it all is a sliver of fear. Fear and worry that suddenly, a whole lot was about to change.