Stay Drunk - Patricia Spencer

Papa stays drunk most of the time since he lost his job at the bullets factory. Mama still has to go in so papa and me walk to the fish market every afternoon. Even in the morning I can smell the sour on his skin like garlic and dirty feet. It starts out small and gets stronger through the day. Mama makes him take a bath every night even when he comes home late and wakes everyone up singing song from the old days, “before this bloody war,” he says. I don’t remember what it was like before the war.

Last night papa came home a little before it was time for Mrs. Tanaka’s rooster to start crowing. He wasn’t singing but he crashed into the neighborhood’s rubbish bins and woke everyone up. I saw mama run out and pick him up by the collar of his kimono and push him into the back garden to take a bath. She wouldn’t even let him in the house. Her face was all red when she came in. I kept my mouth shut and put the morning’s rice on boil.

Papa wouldn’t get out of bed this morning until past noon but when he did we left straightaway for the fish market. We stopped at old Mr. Shiyama’s shop on the way and he gave me a tiny ball of mochi and refilled papa’s tin flask with his special homemade sake. He always takes little sips when he thinks no one’s looking, but everyone knows. I don’t mind. It makes him happy. There wasn’t much fish at the market today but we got lucky and found 3 sardines and a small piece of hamachi. Papa smiled. I bet he was thinking this would make mama happy.