Take me with you

The day I turned 16, the air was hot and my shirt stuck to my back as I walked home.  The journey from school seemed longer because I couldn’t wait to get there.  My father promised me we would look until I found a safe car in the family price range.  I smiled as I rounded the corner.   
I noticed my mother’s Camry parked close to garage.  As I walked closer, I could see her sitting on the driver’s seat with her legs extended out onto the ground.  Her hands were fumbling with something as she spoke to herself.  I slowed my pace so she wouldn’t notice me.  As I walked closer I could see the object was a cell phone and the words that flew from her mouth were angry and cold. 
“What are you doing?” she yelled.  “Your father’s not coming home!  His stuff is gone!  Here’s the note.  You want to read how he loves someone else?” 
My trembling hand reached for the crumpled piece of paper.
“All this time!  She began to sob and covered her face.  “All this fucking time!”
I cumpled the paper and shoved it into my pocket. I placed both hands on her shoulders and she stood slowly, wiping her face.  Holding her phone in front of her, she took one last look and threw it against the outside wall of the house. 
“You think it’s my fault,” she turned to face me and pointed her finger.  “No car!  I told him no car!  But he was going to take you anyway!  He always took your side!”  She ran inside and slammed the door behind her.  I pulled the black cell phone from my purse; a gift from my father last Christmas.  The blue light showed 3:27 and I dropped the phone back into the brown, leather bag. 
I sat on my bed staring at the suitcase.  My mother had spent the evening blaming me for her sudden loneliness.  She eventually became tired of looking at me and locked herself in her room.  I looked at the clock.  10:43pm. I sat up and listened carefully.  Normally, my mother would have been asleep by now but I could hear her voice coming from down the hall.  I plopped back down and crossed my arms on my chest.  My eyes were tired.  I imagined the small place that only my father and I knew of where I would take his tent and go.  It was most likely covered with leaves by now which would make the bottom of the tent more comfortable to sleep on.  The crickets and cool night air would be a nice change from the constant sobs and coldness of my mother. 
I could see my father.  He laughed as we rolled through the leaves together.  He picked up a pile and threw them at me.  I laughed and threw them back.  We built a tree house and sat in it.  We were fishing at the pond.  There were salamanders and frogs and the little cage he help me build so I could keep them.  I saw tadpoles and a basket full of blackberries.  We were riding the four wheeler and my arms were rapped tight around him because he went too fast.  There was a campfire.  We had hotdogs.  The crickets were singing and singing….and ringing. 
I sat up in bed.  The alarm clock said 7:30am.  Dreams.  Wonderful dreams and my reality made my head hurt.  My hand slammed down to make the ringing stop.  This was the start of a new day without my father.  I went to find the phone and hoped my mother was still asleep.  I was going to call him.  If he didn’t want to be here anymore, I would leave with him.