I stand rooted in my spot, staring at what I thought was a homeless man.

What the fuck is he doing here?

And how the fuck did he end up in New York?

"Luna...you good?" I feel Owen gently tugging on the sleeve of my shirt.

I continue staring at my dad, sound asleep on the bench.

"Why are you staring?" Madeline snaps at me, her friends look towards me.  "Weirdo." She murmurs.

I turn towards Owen. He is looking at me with concern.

"Yeah...I'm okay." I give him a weak smile.

Don't cry.

Don't cry.

Don't cry.

I'm not sure why I feel the need to cry.

I always thought that if I saw my father on the street I would walk right past him as if he was just another person. Except I guess things may end up differently than you originally thought when they actually happen.

My father has hurt my family and I, but it still hurts to see this. It hurts to see your dad sleeping on a park bench clutching a bottle of rum as if it's a prized possession and the world is falling.

"You know him?" Owen says quietly to me as he leans his head down towards mine.  Concern laced through his tone.

I turn to look at dad again, still asleep. We look a lot alike but I don't think anyone has noticed since his hand is covering part of his face.

Closing my eyes for a second I turn back to Owen.

His feathery brown hair is messy and falling on his forehead. I want to take my hand and push it out the way.

"C'mon, let's keep walking." He looks at me wearily before nodding.

We continue walking down the path. The sound of Madeline and her friend's voices making fun of my fathers current condition drown out as we steer further away. I clench my fists.

~

I'm silent as we walk. The only sound is the noise of the city around us. A mixture of cars, talking, some yelling, kids laughing, and the leaves of trees rustling from the wind.

"Are you sure your okay?" I see Owen looking at me from my peripheral vision. I don't meet his gaze.

"Yep!" I muster out.

I really don't want to talk right now. If I do I might start burst out crying in front of everyone.

I tend to embarrass myself a lot, but that would be humiliating.

"I don't believe you." His voice is hushed.

Over the time I've known Owen I've realized how quiet he is.

He really only talks to Levina and I, from what I know. All he does is read and is kinda of rude to everyone he meets.

I don't think he is a huge fan of people in general. They seem to get on his nerves very easily. I'm one of them.

Hell, we've been going to school together for years and I never noticed him.

He keeps to himself. I like that.

"Why not?" I say trying not to sound sad. My tone sounding too jolly instead.

"You're acting weirder than usual.  And your voice sounds happier than usual." He lets out a pathetic laugh.

"Nope! All good in Luna-land." I give him a fake smile, trying to forget about my father.

"Talk to me." A few more seconds of silence pass. I kick the rocks beneath my feet as we walk.

"About what?" His voice is soft, but also deep and rough.  It's relaxing.  I want him to read me bedtime stories. I'd probably fall asleep in five minutes just from the sound of it.

"Anything."

A few more seconds of loud silence tick by.  Each second feeling longer then then the one before.

"We've met before." He says suddenly.

"I can't remember half the shit that happened in my life, please explain." A grin creeps on my face.  I don't remember talking to him in school before this year.

"In seventh grade. During recess." He licks his lips and stares at the ground as he recalls the memory.

"I remember you were wearing a cute flower dress and your little converse. Your hair was kinda messy. And you were reading a book that Madeline threw in the dirt." I see him smiling faintly.

"So what I'm hearing is that you thought my dress was cute?" I smirk and nudge his arm.

"Is that not what I just said?" He glances towards me.

I try to search through the files in my brain for the memory.

"Oh my God. Were you that cute boy who told me to not listen to Madeline? I remember that day! Some girls called my dress ugly and when I got home I took it off and shoved it under my mattress." I completely forgot about it. I'm pretty sure I ended up secretly throwing it in the trash.

"Yes, that was me. And I think they were just jealous, cause the dress was pretty, well at least I thought it was." Who knew Owen could be so sweet.

"Awe, thanks chico." I reach my hand to the top of his head and ruffle his hair. He swats it away and I laugh.

"Tell me more stories. Funny ones specifically." I request.

He thinks for a few moments. "Once in eighth grade I sat in a puddle of this girls period blood." He squints his eyes, like he is replaying the moment in his head and cringing.

I burst out cackling and snorting.

"How the fuck did that even happen? I need more detail dude." My cheeks feel hot from laughing.

He smiles a little from my ugly laughs. "It was in Mr. Peterson's eighth grade science class...and when I went to go sit in my seat I sat in a small puddle of some girl's bright red period blood. She was probably from the class before mine. My mom had to drop me off a new pair of pants." He scrunches up his nose.

I'm snorting even more now.

He laughs at my snorts.

"Why do you always snort? I should start calling you mon petit cochon?" He side eyes me while the small smile still sits on his lips. (Translation: My little pig.)

I abruptly stop my laughing. "What does that mean?" I swear if it's something rude I'm going to-

"It means my little piggy." He ruffles the top of my hair just like I had done to him.

"Hey! You're making my hair even messier than it already is!" I hit his hand away and start raking my hands through the top of my head as a poor attempt to flatten the frizz.

"Oh so you can mess up my hair but I can't mess up yours?" He looks amused.

"Yes! Your hair looks good being messy. Mine looks like a bat got stuck in it." I respond as I blow a piece of black hair out of my face.

"Oh so you think my hair looks good?" He teases.

"Yes. I'm an honest person." I'm still trying to fix my hair.

He simply just chuckles, and then falls silent again.

"Do you feel better now?" His voice is quiet once he disrupts the silence after a few more minutes of us walking.

"Oh stop being all sweet, it's weird. And also I was feeling fine before, I swear." I'm praying he doesn't ask any questions because then I might start crying and then everyone will laugh at me and then I'll have to crawl into a manhole in the street and die. Then the rats will eat my body.

I'd rather not die like that.

"So you'd rather I not be nice?" His voice still holds merriment.

"Not gonna lie, I like when your mean. Not too mean, but just a little. I find it kinda funny." I answer fairly.

"You're odd." He declares matter-a-factly.

"Why thank you, French boy!" I pat his back.
I still remember seeing it at Levina's pool. His attractive back muscles.

Now I'm mad that he's wearing a hoodie. I should sneak into his house and burn all his shirts and sweaters. Then he'll have to walk around wearing nothing, and I'll be able to see his pretty torso, back, arms, and chest.

Then I realize that other girls will also be able to see him topless. Maybe the 'burning all his upper body wear' isn't the best idea.

"Are you ever going to stop calling me that?"

I stop walking and I turn to him with a straight face. "No."

Turning my head to the side I see Levina running towards us.

"Okay, so basically, I accidentally pushed a little kid in the fountain. Now his mom is mad at me so can we please go back to the bus?" She's out of breath from running the short distance.

"How the fuck did you end up pushing a little boy in the fountain?" I'm amazed.

"I-I don't know- He was just- like in my way. He came up to me and tried stealing my penny so I shoved him and he fell! And now his mom is trying to find me so she could yell at me, so can we please go back to the bus!" Her words are rushed, all coming out as one blurred mess.

"Um...well okay then let's go." I start walking back through the park towards the bus, they follow right behind me.

As we walk past the benches I can't help but glance over to my father who is still dead asleep. Madeline and her friends left already, probably to go back on the bus they came here in.

I bite my bottom lip, trying to prevent myself from crying or saying something. My pace involuntarily slows when I pass him, my eyes raking over the part of his face that I can see, and his hands which are gripping the bottle.

Flashback - Eleven years ago

"Gracias papá!" My eyes light up at the plate of rice and beans my dad just set down in front of me.

"Por supuesto." He smiles and nods at me.
(Translation: Of course.)

"Papá?" My words come out muffled due to the large spoon of rice I just shoved in my mouth.

"Sí mama?" He mutters as he looks down at his plate, mixing around his food.

"Can we watch a movie today?" I want to watch a Disney movie.  Perhaps The Princess and the Frog!

"Uh...maybe another night." He murmurs.

"Why?" I fail at hiding the sadness in my voice.

"I'm busy." He doesn't meet my eyes. His voice is hushed.

My eyes immediately glance over to the kitchen counter. A pack of beer is placed in front of the salt and pepper shaker.

I saw him drinking that earlier, maybe that's what he's busy doing.

Mom is stuck in traffic right now with Camila, so it's just me and papá right now.

We eat the rest of the dinner in silence.

Once every grain of rice on my plate is gone, he clears his throat and begins speaking.

"Go brush your teeth and go to bed.  I'm gonna be heading out." He gets up and takes my plate along with his, placing it in the sink.

"To where?" I stare up at him and play with the end of my braid.  Mom had braided my hair earlier before she left to take Camila to the doctors.

That was about two hours ago.

"I'm gonna have a few drinks at a place.  I'll be back though, I promise." He comes over to where I'm sitting and places a kiss on my forehead.  He puts his hands under my arms and lifts me up, so he can carry me to the bathroom.

Once my teeth are brushed he picks me up again and brings me to my room. I already bathed earlier. I'm wearing my princess pajamas.

"Okay c'mon, get comfy." He pulls the blankets over my legs.

I hate having an early bedtime.

He tucks the blanket so that no monsters could kill me when I go to sleep.

"Night papá. Te quiero mucho." I whisper. (Translation: I love you.)

He looks at me and grins.  "Buenas noches mija.  Te quiero más." He places another kiss on my forehead and then walks out the door.  Letting the darkness of my room swallow me whole.

Him and mom got into a fight the next day since he left me alone in the house to go drink at a bar.

That was one of the last times he ever told me he loved me, I'm pretty sure.

When did everything go wrong?

I continue past him hesitantly, trying to avoid looking back.

I lift my hand to my face, wiping an involuntary tear that slipped out of my eye.

No.  I will not cry.  At least not here.  And not in front of people.

I always thought that in a way I was kind of lucky that I never experienced having a boyfriend or anything, since then I could avoid heartbreak.

Except as I walk towards the school bus and pretend like my dad isn't the man that's asleep on the bench a few feet away from me while holding a bottle of rum: I realize that my father was my first ever heartbreak.

~

We are currently waiting to board the bus, everyone else is still getting on.

I've been quiet, except I'm hoping no one notices.  I still offer Levina and Owen smiles so that I don't come off acting weird.

Levina is currently on the phone with Olive - of course - discussing their date plans. 

Owen walks to my side discreetly and lowers his head down, closer to my ear.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He asks quietly.

I don't look up to meet his eyes, pretending to be busy examining my nails instead

His fingers gently graze my jaw and push my face to look up at him.

I pray that my eyes don't look glossy.

His eyes roam my face, a questioning expression on his.

"I'm okay, seriously." I respond, my voice soft.  My eyes staring right into his.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips.  His eyes still looking all over my face.

Suddenly I'm engulfed his arms.

My body is immediately warmed from his body heat.  I hug him back, my head squished into his firm chest.  He rests his chin on top of my head.

Now I really want to cry.

I bite down hard on my lip, hoping that the pain distracts me from the tears threatening my eyes.

He waits a few seconds before pulling away.

"You look like you needed one of those." He smiles at me.

Genuinely smiles.

He rubs my arm with his large hand reassuringly before getting on the bus behind Levina, who is still on the phone chatting happily with Olive.

A sad laugh leaves my lips.  I need one of those everyday.

~

"Okay, Camila and Mateo are in bed." I shut the hall light off before walking back into the living room.  Mom is sitting on the couch in her pajamas, entranced with the Kardashians on the TV.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

I walk over hesitantly and take a seat right next to her, pulling the blanket that she has over my lap.

She is busy munching on the bowl of popcorn in front of her.

I try to grab a some secretly.

She smacks my hand away, not breaking eye contact with Kim K.

"Ma..." My voice is quiet, in a way hoping she can't hear me.

She grunts in response, then shoves a hand full of popcorn in her mouth.

"I lied." I pick at the skin around my cuticles nervously.

Her chewing stops, and she turns to me.

She swallows before clearing her throat.  "About what?"  Now she looks pissed.

"Earlier...when you asked how the school trip went, and I said 'fine'.  Well, I didn't tell you something." I can't meet her stare.

She huffs out an annoyed breath before pausing the show and turning to me.  "Spit it out, Luna."

"I saw dad." Her breath hitches.  I pretend I don't notice.

"Okay..."  I can see her expression sadden in the corner of my eye.

"And...he-" I start crying.

I can't remember the last time I cried.

I've been holding in those tears all day, and now they've overflowed.

She pulls me to her, cradling me as I choke on my sobs.

"Esta bien, esta bien.  Stop crying." She says quietly as she caresses my head.
(Translation: It's okay, it's okay.)

"He was asleep on the- the bench, holding a bottle of alcohol.  He looked like a homeless person." I break out in more cries.  She continues caressing my hair.

"I just don't get it." I cry out.  "When did it all go wrong? What happened to him? Why is he like the way he is now?" The tears continue spilling out, snot start running from my nose.

Mom is silent for several seconds.  The only sound present being my cries and sniffling.

She leans her cheek against my forehead. "I think I know how everything went wrong." She whispers.

A few more seconds pass before she speaks again. "Over time I've realized that a messed up childhood sometimes leads to a soon to be messed up person."