I didn't immediately move toward the door.
I couldn't.
My mind was still trying to catch up with what Dad had said.
The rain outside sounded heavier.
I looked at the window.
Then back at him.
"Dad, it's freezing."
He folded his arms.
"Maybe you'll think about that next time."
I didn't understand what he expected me to learn.
I hadn't brought the bottle into the house.
I hadn't hidden medication in my belongings.
I hadn't done anything that justified being thrown outside.
But arguing didn't seem to matter.
He wasn't asking questions anymore.
He was giving orders.
I glanced toward the staircase.
My coat was upstairs.
So was my phone.
My wallet was there too.
I had gone downstairs without thinking I would need any of those things.
Now they suddenly seemed like the most important possessions in the world.
"Can I just get my jacket?"
Dad's expression hardened.
"You're not going upstairs."
"Please. It's really cold."
"I said get out."
I looked at Karen.
She was still holding the orange bottle.
She hadn't put it down.
She hadn't corrected him.
She hadn't even looked directly at me.
I wondered whether she understood what was happening.
I wondered whether she knew how dangerous it was outside.
Most of all, I wondered why she was letting it happen.
"Karen?"
She didn't answer.
I tried again.
"Can you please tell him?"
Her face tightened.
But she remained silent.
That silence hurt more than I expected.
I had always thought that even when people disagreed, family members eventually found a way to talk.
That evening, I discovered that sometimes people simply stopped listening.
Dad pointed toward the entrance.
"Now."
I looked down at myself.
An old sweatshirt.
Jeans.
My worn Converse sneakers.
Nothing suitable for an October storm.
I considered asking for my phone again.
Maybe I could call a friend.
Maybe I could reach someone who would let me stay inside until the weather passed.
But Dad was already angry about the coat.
I knew he wasn't going to let me collect anything else.
So I reached for my school bag.
It was beside the chair.
I pulled it over my shoulder.
There was an unfinished algebra worksheet inside.
A few school supplies.
Nothing useful for the situation I was facing.
Still, I took it.
I didn't want to leave without anything.
I walked toward the door.
Every step felt strange.
I kept expecting Dad to change his mind.
I kept thinking he might call me back.
But he didn't.
When I opened the door, cold rain blew into the entrance.
I stepped onto the porch.
The first drops struck my face.
I pulled my sweatshirt closer around myself.
Then I turned.
Dad was still inside.
Karen was behind him.
Neither of them moved.
I waited for one of them to say something.
Anything.
But the door began closing.
I watched the opening grow smaller.
Then it disappeared.
A moment later, I heard the lock.
Click.
I stood there.
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
It was such a small sound.
Just a lock turning inside a door.
But it meant I couldn't go back in.
My own father had shut me out.
I moved beneath the porch roof to escape the rain.
The roof offered a little protection.
Not much.
The wind carried water underneath it.
My shoes were already getting wet.
I stood close to the door.
I thought about knocking.
I almost did.
But what would I say?
That I needed my coat?
That I hadn't done anything wrong?
I'd already said both.
Dad had heard me.
He had simply refused.
I looked toward the window.
The house was still lit.
Somewhere inside, Karen and Dad were dry.
They had warmth.
They had a kitchen.
They had everything I had been asking to keep.
I tried to imagine what they were saying.
Perhaps Dad was still angry.
Perhaps Karen was explaining something.
Perhaps they were putting the bottle away.
I couldn't know.
I only knew nobody had opened the door.
I checked my pockets.
Empty.
No phone.
No wallet.
No money.
I had no way to call my friend.
Her home was several miles away, and I didn't know her parents' telephone number by heart.
I had always relied on my phone to remember numbers.
It had never occurred to me that I might suddenly be without it.
I stood there longer.
The rain continued.
I watched water run off the edge of the roof.
It collected near the steps and spread across the ground.
My sweatshirt was getting damp.
My fingers were beginning to feel cold.
I told myself Dad would eventually open the door.
Maybe he needed time to calm down.
Maybe Karen would finally admit that something was wrong.
Maybe this was only a punishment meant to frighten me.
I was still trying to make excuses for him.
That is the part I find hardest to remember.
Even after he locked me outside, I was still hoping he would come looking for me.
I wasn't thinking about revenge.
I wasn't thinking about how unfair everything was.
I wanted my father to open the door.
I wanted to go upstairs, get my coat, and have the argument end.
But the door stayed closed.
Eventually, I realized waiting wasn't helping.
I had to move.
I adjusted the strap of my school bag.
Then I stepped away from the porch.
The rain struck my face again.
I looked once more at the house.
The kitchen light was visible through the darkness.
For a brief moment, I considered going around to another entrance.
But I knew Dad had made his decision.
I couldn't force him to let me inside.
So I turned toward the road.
My friend lived several miles away.
It wasn't a short walk.
I knew that.
But it was the only place I could think of.
I started walking.
At first, I moved quickly.
Anger made it easier.
I told myself I would reach my friend's house.
I would explain what happened.
Someone would let me inside.
And eventually, Dad would realize he had gone too far.
I kept repeating those thoughts.
They were the only things keeping me moving.
Behind me, the house disappeared into the darkness.
I didn't look back again.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: Four Miles From Home, the Road Became Harder to Recognize, and I Began to Understand That I Might Not Make It
The Orange Bottle My Sister Held Was Enough to Make My Father Forget Everything He Had Ever Promised Me
Part 2 of 20
