The room erupted in laughter as the comedian on the radio finished his joke. I smiled as I turned my attention to my brothers and sisters huddled around the radio. It was nice to see smiles on their faces, especially after everything we’ve been through these past few years. My gaze passed over the twins, James and Joel, and then to Jessie. When I got down the line to Julia, I remembered why father wasn’t in the room, but before I could get lost in thought the radio turned to static. Bewildered, my head jerked to the radio as a news reporter’s voice came over.  

“We interrupt your daily entertainment to bring you some breaking news! Today, President Franklin D. Roosevelt announced that he is putting his New Deal in play! The New Deal will help bring the great United States of America out of this Great Depression! Stay tuned for more news later!” Then there was static and the comedian’s voice was back.

“Jo,” I turned my head toward Jessie, “what’s a New Deal?” Jessie is almost nine years old and she is just starting to get curious about politics. When I was nine, I was curious about the latest fashion trends.

“Well, Jessie, the New Deal is a plan that President Roosevelt came up with to help people like us get more money and be happier,” I attempted to dumb it down as much as I could.

“But I am happy,” I just looked at her and smiled softly as I got up to make dinner. On the way to the kitchen I stopped by father’s room to check on him. It has been a while since I’ve seen him walking around, and I honestly could care less about him, but a con to being the oldest is taking care of others. Including those who don’t treat you correctly.

“Father?” I knock on the wood door and slowly open it, “It’s me, Josephine. I just wanted to check up on you and let you know I’m going to start dinner.” His room was dark but he was sitting at a desk in the corner with a small lamp on. He had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a photograph in the other. My father used to be a great writer but after mother’s death he gave up the pencil and picked up a bottle of whiskey instead. Father turned his head and looked at me. His eyes were red and I could tell he’d been crying.

“Get outta here! I don’t care!” he yelled and chucked the whisky toward me. I closed the door right as the bottle hit it and shattered. I stood there facing the closed door with my hand still on the knob for a moment to recompose myself. On my way back to the kitchen all the kids were looking toward me.

“He’s gotten worse, hasn’t he?” Joel asked.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” I avoided his question.

“But is he gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know.”

When I got to the kitchen, I opened the cabinet door there was just a half a loaf of bread and a can of green beans. I moved to the icebox and it was also empty aside from half a milk bottle. I didn’t realize it was already time to go to the market again.

“Hey James, Joel,” I called to the boys.

“What?” “Yeah?” the twins reply in unison.

“I need you guys to run to the market to pick up some food.”

“Ugh. Why can’t you do it? I don’t wanna,” James complained.

“You’re gonna do it because I asked you to. So unless you wanna starve, I suggest you go to the market to get some food,” Joel was already standing and taking the coins from my hand. He was always a better listener than James, “Thank you.” The boys left and I was there with the girls listening to the radio. The comedian kept talking but I couldn’t concentrate on his words. All I could think of was how hopeless helping my father is and wonder how much longer I can take care of everyone..

I had talked to Mary about this when it first started to happen. Mary is my best friend, at least she used to be. About a year ago, most of the teenagers stopped going to school. The majority of us left to take care of siblings, others just left their families because they felt like a burden. Mary, though, is the smartest girl I had ever met. She stayed in school because she wants to be a senator when she’s older. We would also talk about how great a senator Mary Johnston would be. However, since I stopped going to school I haven’t seen her.

I was pulled out of thought by the front door being blown open by the wind and the twins walking in while arguing.

“Battling Shaw is so much better than Young Corbett III,” said James.

“No way! Corbett is definitely better---” Joel argued.

“Here Jo,” James interrupted as he set the bread, cans, and eggs on the table followed by Joel’s milk and cheese.

“Thank you guys,” I say and stand up to make dinner. The boys run off to their room to argue more about boxing and the girls are now messing with the radio to find a different station. We lived in a very small town in Oklahoma, called Alva. It’s so small, there’s only one neighborhood, and one market on each side of town. It’s always so hot and dry here people get sick very easily. Usually because they’re dehydrated, but there’s always other diseases too.

I had just finished making the grilled cheeses for everyone when we heard someone yelling from outside. Jessie, Julia, and I looked at each other and ran outside. As I got outside, I was recently blinded by my hair being blown into my face.

“It’s coming! A dust storm! Everyone! Hide!” a lady was shouting hysterically and running around. My eyes get wide and I turn around and see it. There was a giant dark cloud of dust rushing toward the entire town.

“Go to the cellar!” I yelled “Go get James and Joel,” I said to Jessie and ran with Julia to open the cellar. Seconds later James, Joel, and Jessie are in the cellar with us and I close the door and lock it.

“Wait!” Joel yells, “dad.” Just then, the wind and sand blew over the door and we all knew it was too late.

The storm left as quickly as it came. I held out my hand to tell my siblings to stay back as I opened the door. The door was much heavier than it was before the storm. The first thing I noticed was the good two inch layer of sand on the ground. When all five of us finally made it out we rushed to the front door. It was wide open and sand was all over the floor inside. We filed inside and I went to check on father while the rest walked around. I noticed the power had gone out. James and Joel turned on the radio for any updates on the storm. I thanked God that that was battery operated.

“... there was just a severe dust storm if you haven’t noticed. The first responders are on their way and the coppers are out for your convenience. We do not yet have a casualty count but we will keep you updated. Thank you.”

“This is some sandwich, Jo.” Julia laughed after she took a bite of a grilled cheese that was left on the counter. I smiled and shook my head, but my smile faded as I got to father’s open door. I looked inside, my heart pounding, and called out for him. There was no response. I called to James to get me the flashlight and he promptly returned with it on. Father’s room was empty.

“Guys, dad’s gone. He’s not in his room. Split up and look for him,” I instruct them and we look around the house. Five minutes have gone by and we still haven’t found him.  The house isn’t even big so he must not be inside. I went to the back door which I noticed was cracked open. I opened the door all the way and I saw a few feet away, under the two inches of sand, my father, face down on the ground. There was a broken bottle of whisky in his hand and the same photograph in the other. I bent down and rolled him onto his back, pushing aside the glass shards. As I rolled him over the picture fell out of his hand and I noticed it was a picture of my mother. I picked up the picture and tried to wake my father up but he just wouldn’t stir.

“Guys! I found him! Out back,” I yell to my siblings, “Joel, call 911. He’s not waking up.” Joel’s eyes moved from me to father and back to me before he ran back inside to the landline. Minutes later ambulances were pulling up to the front of the house and strong men ran to the back and got my father breathing again but he wouldn’t wake up. Although they got him to breathe, they still had to take him to the hospital to get back to health and ensure he would wake up.

The next few weeks everything went really slowly. We all took turns selling newspapers on the corner to earn a little extra money and visited father in the hospital every day. One day, I was sitting in the hospital room talking to him. My siblings were in the lunchroom getting food but I didn’t feel like eating.

“Hey dad, it’s me, Josephine. It’s been three weeks now since you’ve been in a coma. The doctors say they you may never wake up. I don’t know exactly what happened but they said you had too much sand in your lungs and it suffocated you. You were dead for two mins before they got your heart pumping again. Unfortunately, you were without oxygen for too long so now you won’t wake up,” I paused for a moment, “I don’t even know if you can hear me, but you were a sucky father. Ever since mom died you stopped writing and started drinking. You never cared about James’s or Joel’s achievements in school, or Jessie’s and Julia’s art projects. You just yelled at them, and then they’d come to me for support. I’m tired, dad. I’m tired of doing your job and doing it better than you. I can’t take care or support this family. You probably didn’t even realize that all of us stopped going to school.”

Just then, a nurse came in. Roughly every twenty minutes one comes in to check his pulse and update his charts. I grew quiet and watched her do her job. She walked over to his right wrist and checked his pulse. As she was doing so, her eyebrows grew bunchy and close, then her eyes got sad. She carefully put his hand down and looked at me.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Wills, your father is dead,” the nurse said and wrote something down in the chart. Everything around me grew quiet and slow. I couldn’t understand what she was saying and quite honestly, I didn’t care. Somewhere along the time of my daze, the nurse had been substituted for my siblings. It was then that I realized I had been crying, staring at my father’s corpse.

The next few days were a haze. I don’t even know how I got to and from where I was supposed to go. I did find Mary and filled her in on everything but I don’t remember what she said. A week after father’s death, the hospital stopped by and gave me a box including all his belongings he had on him. In the box was the photograph of mother. It was the only thing worth keeping of all the things he had. As I was staring at the picture I noticed that there was writing on the back. I flipped it over and saw that father had written a love poem to his wife who had died 4 years prior from polio.

“My Beloved

I thought I could do it.

I thought I’d be able to help them.

Turns out they had to help me more.

I wish I could’ve done it,

If not for me, for you.

But I let you down

And that’s the worst mistake I could ever make.”

It was then when I read that poem, that I realized my father was not as bad a dad as I thought he was.