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but he was able to see Patricia's undead body vanish in the wind. Eventually, the white that had blinded him turned to black, and a world of nothingness was born.
    “Wake your stupid fucking ass up!”
    He could feel a set of hands shaking him from his slumber. Grumbling aloud, Owen rolled over to take a look at the culprit. He had hoped it was the sweet touch of Grace coming to apologize for last night and to make amends. As his eyes adjusted, however, he knew he was dead wrong. He should have recognized the voice anyway.
    “Ali...what a surprise.”
    “Oh Jesus fucking Christ Owen, I told you yesterday that I was bringing Austin over. But I guess that doesn't matter to you.”
    Rubbing his eyes vigorously, he noticed he was wearing the same clothes as the day before. He was partially amazed that he even made it to his bed. Many nights had been spent passed out on the couch or the floor.
    Clearing his throat, Owen looked over his daughter. His head still felt a tad hazy. “How long you going to be gone this time?”
    Ali shrugged her shoulders mordantly.
    “Okay,” said Owen. “What are you going to be doing?”
    “It's none of your fucking business what I do.”
    Placing his feet on the ground, a sharp pain from his stomach combined with a throbbing from his forehead kept Owen from responding. This pain was absolutely excruciating, but no matter how bad it was, he was not about to show it to his daughter. He refused to show signs of weakness in front of her. Perhaps it was a father's duty to always look strong, even though she could care less about his parental responsibilities.
    When his pain was finally manageable, he commenced speaking. “It is my business, Ali. I have to know whether you are going to be gone a few hours or a week. I still have to work, you know.”
    “You've brought him to work with you before. Shouldn't be too hard on you.”
    “Yeah, but then he starts asking questions about where his mommy is and my boss ain’t exactly too kind on a kid just hanging out in the waiting room. It's getting hard lying for your ungrateful ass!”
    Ali put her right hand on her hip. She had long dark brown hair, and was wearing a black tank top with cut-off blue jean shorts that left little to the imagination. “Oh? Fine. Tell him. Tell him what his mommy does. He knows, Owen. He's nine years old. He's fucking figured it out. His mommy likes to smoke a little somethin’ somethin’ every once in a while. Big whoop.”
    She hadn't called him Dad in years, but it always bugged him when he was called by his name. “The fuck is wrong with you, girl? You're fine with that? You are fine knowing that your son knows that his mother is a drug addict!?”
    “For one thing, I ain't no addict. And I don't give a flying fuck what anyone thinks. And I definitely don't give a fuck what you think, you hypocrite.”
    She could have taken an empty bottle of Jim Beam and smashed him across the face, and that still would have hurt less than her piercing words. It wasn't the first time his little girl called him a hypocrite, and it wouldn't be the last. Yet, knowing his recent knowledge of his mortality, it very well may be the last time she called him that word. He wondered if death would be preferable than having to be reminded of the painful past.
    He shook his head and changed the subject. “So where is he at now?”
    “Outside. Waiting for you. He’s got his glove on and everything.”
    Owen was willing to bet that his parents never played with him. It was always up to him to play catch with his grandson. Not that he had a problem with it, but he wished his mother was more involved with him. Of course, she never had much of a childhood. She went through puberty early, and had Austin at the age of 13, thanks to the popular wiles of one Clint Grayson. He still remembered the sneers and grimaces he received from the good people of Adrienne as he walked down the street or bought beer at a local store. He hated being judged