The Throw-Aways

“Raven! Get up!” A voice yelled from downstairs. The dog barked and ran into a wall. It was my blind pug, Jake. He wasn’t that old, but had diabetes and was fat from the food that customers threw on the ground for him to eat. Overall, his flub made him more lovable. At least, that’s how I looked at it.

“Coming, Daddy-o!” I responded with his nickname. Throwing the grey covers off of me, I switched into the outfit for the school day. Sun lazily crawled through the sky, inching its way into our new day. It was a cool morning in the middle of May. Thank goodness for school nearly being over!

Jake ran into the door with a thud and a sneeze. At least he had dignity in running into things. I opened the door for him just as I tossed put on a pair of black skinny jeans. The predicted forecast for this dreary Monday said that there was going to be slight chance of rain out. On top of my pants, I searched through my closet for a Pierce the Veil shirt and switched into that from my night top.

The room around me was a mess, but there would be time for cleaning that up later. I had school to attend and Dad had our Italian restaurant to run. I would help him work it after my monotonous school life had ended for the day.

When I slipped on my lucky silver treble clef necklace, I opened the door and nearly tripped over the dog. Jake looked up and followed my footsteps as I went down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Woof!” Jake barked from the top of the stairs.

“Jakey, come here!” I whistled. He stuck out a paw and felt his way down the steps until he fell at the bottom. I sighed and rubbed his head as he got up. You had to give him points for trying!

“Hey, Dad.” I smiled to my father as I took a seat at the counter of the kitchen. He grinned and handed me my backpack. As soon as I was done with breakfast, it would be a mad dash to the school to arrive early.

“Working tonight?” He asked me. I nodded eagerly. Despite what many people say about working in restaurants and hating their jobs, I actually didn’t mind it!

We lived in the small town of Gold Ridge that was nestled in the mountains. There were about a hundred permanent residents at any given time. Quite a few city dwellers from Denver would own cabins further up in the mountains and would visit our town for supplies and any “entertainment” we could provide. It wasn’t much. We had a main hall, library, school, two restaurants, a bar, and a grocery store. That was basically it. The houses were all located on the outskirts of town.

“Of course!” I laughed. My Dad owned the local Italian joint called The Three Meatballs. Was it the most creative name? No. Was it the most popular restaurant in Colorado? No. Did it have meaning to us? Yes! The whole “three” part was supposed to represent our little family.

Mom and Dad used to own the place together. Everyone in the town would love to come and try the Alfredo that my mom cooked with her special sauce. Two years ago, my Mom died when she had a stroke. It came out of the middle of nowhere and it was just a “freak accident”. Ever since then, we kept up the place since it was our only source of income. Mom used to teach piano and that was our other source of income, but we didn’t have that anymore.

“Okay good, because there’s supposedly a big concert coming next Friday. There should be lots of people heading this way! Something about a country band called Of Mice and Men?” My dad added slyly. I grinned and playfully punched his arm. He knew the band I was talking about.

“They’re not country!” I groaned. The gleam in his eyes betrayed his stoic outside.

“Oh, sorry, rap then. I know how much you love that.” He teased. I munched on the piece of toast in front of me and rolled my eyes.

“They’re not rap either! Dad, you know this!” I grumbled. He ruffled my perfectly straight black hair as I washed the green plate and threw it in the dishwasher. Jake bumped into my leg, trying to say goodbye. I think he was trying to remember MikeyWhiskeyHands! And instead got that confused with Of Mice and Men. My favorite bands all seemed the same to my dad.

“Oh sorry, they’re just the band you obsess over. Or was that Pierce the Veil?” He asked curiously, but his smiled shone brightly. I gave him another hug and started out the door.

“Well, yes.”

“Or Sleeping with Sirens? Or Suicide Silence? Or Motionless in White? Or A Day to Remember? Or All Time High?” He asked. I started opening the door. He knew I loved all those bands and more. The posters on my walls should’ve told him that!

“Low, Dad. All Time Low!” I laughed and shut the door behind me. Trampling down the small porch, I went to the garage and punched in the key code. The freshly painted white door rumbled open and I opened the driver’s side. My car was a Dodge Durango that was sturdy enough for the rough and ever changing mountain roads. It was time for a new day to start, and the last week of torture!

Notes