A few days later, my girlfriend and I went back to the house to gather our things and load up our truck with what we could for the next two days. My father was in the living room watching TV on the first day. It was a little awkward because my father had just started drinking for the day, so he was relatively sober. We had to take a few trips to the car and back through the house. My father did not say a word to us.
When the car was packed to the brim, and as we were closing the trunk, my aunt walked up the driveway and asked us where we were going. “He kicked us out”, I replied.
“What?” she said
“He kicked us out,” I repeated.
“Where are you going to go?”
“We don’t know”. I did know where we were going, but I did not want my father to know. I did not feel he had the right, plus my father has threatened people with violence before (somethings I did not want to include in this blog) and I did not want him to start anything with me or my girlfriend.
The next day, my father was not home. We took advantage of this time and gathered as much of our belongings as we could.
Finally, it was the final moving day. My girlfriend and I and a friend, rented a moving truck and headed over to my fathers where we were to pick up our couch, bed, and other large furniture so we could finally leave this place for good. My father was on the couch, and was very pleasant to my friend whom he knew. Not to mention, he was really drunk.
I’m assuming he did not want my friend to see him for who he really was because my father retired to his bedroom. I’m also assuming he was turning in for the day as it seemed like he was drunk enough to have drank all night long (plus, there was an empty case of beer thrown on the counter, which proved my assumption). So, we loaded up the truck swiftly, and left.