You Want What You Can't Have. [Chapter 1]

• Mackenzie Gough, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2013

Happy doesn't begin to describe the way I felt this morning. There was a low tide at the beach, great for surfing. The sand was so white and crunchy. All the palm trees were swaying in the warm summer breeze while the birds were gliding in the air with freedom. Bribie Island was a paradise this morning, and I was so glad that I could make the most of it.
I usually wake up around seven. I get up, have my fruit salad for breakfast and then I slip into my wetsuit and run down to the beach with my surfboard. I make the most of the waves until the crowd gathers at lunch time or when the tide changes. I love the beach, surfing especially, but I can only surf when I'm at the beach house, my Mum's house.
Mum and Dad have been divorced for a while now, eight years I think. My dad is a nice guy, but he is just getting by. His boss dropped his pay and stopped giving him compensation money for his at work injury. My mum, on the other hand, is nice occasionally but is usually a real piece of work. She puts all her energy into her work and barely any into me. Yeah, she will by me anything I want and she provides shelter and food on the table, but she could at least show a bit of love and she could at least prove to me that she cares more about me and less about the money. Mum doesn't talk to me other than the occasional 'good morning' or 'have a nice day at school'. Nothing like 'I love you honey'. She hasn't said that she loves me ever since I was 5. That's ten years!
Usually, after I surf, I have a shower and get dressed. Then I walk the five kilometres to my dad's apartment. I never tell him I'm coming, he knows I always come. On my way there I would stop at a supermarket and grab some essentials like soap and food. Then I would buy him a couple of chocolate bars and a one dollar frozen coke at Hungry Jacks. He loves them.
I finally got to Dad's place with four full, green grocery bags. I opened the door with the spare key he gave me and I started putting the stuff away. If it weren't for the five dollars an hour I get payed at McDonalds and the one grand a fortnight Mum gives me, I couldn't support Dad like I do. Sometimes I'm glad that Mum is rich, but she thinks I'm saving my money for a holiday. She doesn't know that I'm spending it on Dad and also saving to buy a large house in Vienna so we can live there together. Dad knows about it but he thinks it's a bad idea spending money on him, but I don't care.
Although Dad pays rent, utilities and the water bill, I pay everything else and I'm fine with that. As long as he gets what he needs, I'm as happy as can be.
"Hey, Dad! It's Makkie! I bought you some more soap and a new toothbrush and toothpaste. The groceries are in the fridge."
Silence.
"Dad, where are you?"
No answer.
"Dad, you're scaring me!"
I heard a painful moan and it sounded like it was coming from the bathroom.
"Dad!" I yelled as I sprinted to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. When I got to the bathroom I screamed.
My dad was on the floor, barely breathing, about to pass out...