by Katie Bradford
The Curfew
Leaning against the front door, Ali waved a last goodbye to Alex as he pulled his little red bug out of the drive and puttered silently down the street. She loved that little car. The fact that it was smaller than most of her friends' cars only made it more endearing to her. And of course she had no car to compare it to because there was no way her parents would ever buy her one. They were so archaic.
After watching Alex completely disappearing down the block, Ali started shuffling through her purse to find her house key. Of course, as usual she found it lying at the bottom. Pulling it out, she carefully slid it into the lock, trying not to make any noise that might wake her parents or little sister. The last thing she wanted was to confront any of them.
Opening the door noiselessly, Ali stepped inside and locked it behind her. So far so good. No lights were on in the living room to indicate that anyone was still up. She knew if her parents heard her coming in they would be all over her for being past her curfew. They always were. Her parents were stricter then most parents. It seemed her friends were always able to do things she couldn't.
Tiptoeing to the staircase, she put her foot on the bottom step just as she saw a light snap on in the room behind her.
Turning her head slowly, Ali saw her father sitting in his lounge chair staring at her with a fury that only he could display.
"Crap," she muttered under her breath as she turned around.
"Young lady, do you know what time it is?" Mr. Nichols asked in a low voice.
She did know the time unfortunately. She was an hour late but it hadn't really been her fault that she was late. No one else had a twelve o'clock curfew and it was too embarrassing to make Alex bring her home before everyone else. She'd rather die first.
"I asked you a question, Alison, and I expect an answer," he snapped after several moments of silence had passed.
Swallowing hard, Ali decided to play the innocent as she choked out, "A few minutes after twelve?"
Mr. Nichols pursed his lips together tightly as he continued staring at his daughter for several long seconds.
"Try again," he snarled, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"Daddy, I'm sorry I'm a little late," Ali apologized, walking slowly towards the living room. "We had to go to a later movie because the earlier one was sold out and..."
"Come in here and sit down, Alison," Mrs. Nichols interrupted.
"Momma?!" Ali cried in surprise. "I didn't know you were here too."
"You know your mother can't sleep until all you girls are in for the night," Mr. Nichols replied angrily.
Ali lowered her head, not wanting to look at either parent as she stood in the door frame of the living room, and not daring to walk in any further.
"I'm not that late," Ali mumbled.
Snorting, Mr. Nichols groused, "Only an hour."
"Do you know what goes through our minds, young lady, when you're this late?" her mother asked irritably.
Ali knew the next line by heart as she had heard it a million times before.
"You could be laying dead by the side of the road for all we know!" her mother continued.
"But I'm not. I never am." Ali replied sassily. "You guys are overly protective."
"Don't get smart with your mother, young lady!" Mr. Nichols snapped.
"But gee daddy..." Ali turned towards her father and added, "None of my friends have a twelve o'clock curfew. I'm the only one. I wouldn't be late if you all would just relax a little."
"Sit down!" her father ordered crossly.
With a huff, Ali plopped on the couch as far from her parents as she could possibly get. Arms folded across her chest, she cast her eyes down towards the carpet.
"We've gone through all of this before, Alison," her mother replied impatiently. "One o'clock is just too late for an eighteen-year-old to be out."
"You're just barely eighteen at that," her father reminded her.
"You just don't trust me is what it is," Ali retorted. "You always let Carrie stay out until one when she was in High School."
"Not until she was a junior..." her mother replied.
"...and," her father added quickly, "she was showing us a little more responsibility at your age then what you're showing us. When she was told to be home by midnight... she was or she would have called to let us know where she was."
"Of course she did..." Ali muttered. "She's always been Little Miss Perfect!"
"But we're not talking about Carrie right now," her mother reminded her with a sigh. "This is all about you. You're the one who came in past her curfew not Carrie."
"What were you and Alex doing tonight besides going to the movies?" her father asked.
Frowning, Ali looked over at her father and snapped, "Oh we were having mad and wild sex the second it turned midnight, Daddy."
"Don't talk to your daddy like that," her mother warned.
"Not unless you want to feel my belt across your bottom as well as the paddle!" Mr. Nichols added ominously.
The threat of her father's belt sent a cold chill to the pit of her stomach but that wasn't the only thing upsetting her belly at that moment. The drinks she and Alex had had earlier were beginning to take their toll. If she didn't get to the bathroom soon she was going to throw up right there in front of her parents. They'd have a cow if they knew she'd been drinking on top of everything else.
"Momma... I really gotta go to the bathroom," Ali said, trying to hide the fact that she was getting sicker by the second.
Cocking her head suspiciously, Mrs. Nichols asked, "Have you been drinking, Alison?"
"No ma'am," Ali lied. "I just need to go to the bathroom..."
Before she knew what was happening, her father was up out of his seat and sitting on the couch next to her. His hand circled her neck and pulled her face towards his nose.
"You get your ass to the bathroom and do what you need to do but you can expect an extra spanking for lying... you've been drinking... I can smell the alcohol on your breath."
"Alison!" her mother cried with shock.
"I only had one," Alison pleaded in self-defense. She'd really had three but how would her father ever know.
"You're eighteen years old, you're too young to drink at all," her mother snapped.
In response, Ali stood to her feet and ran to the bathroom. Barely making it, she raised the toilet lid and began retching everything up that she had in her stomach. She was so intent on keeping her head in the toilet that she hadn't realized her mother had followed her in. Only after several minutes of throwing up did she sense her mother's presence.
Sitting on her knees, still leery of moving away from the toilet, Ali sat with her hands gripping her head, groaning. "Ohhhh my head is throbbing!"
"Well that's what happens when you drink," her mother responded unsympathetically.
"You and daddy drink," Ali retorted.
"In moderation."
"I told ya I just had one... how can you be more moderate than that?" she asked sassily.
"Well one is too many and you will be punished for it. You know daddy and I don't approve of you drinking," Mrs. Nichols said.
"You all don't approve much of anything I do."
"That's not true," her mother argued. "We love you very much and just want what's best for you."
"You're too old fashioned. You never let me hang with my friends."
"Well if hanging with your friends means drinking and staying out all night long... yes... I guess we are rather strict but that's the way it's going to be so you may as well get used to it."
"Owwwwww," Ali moaned, still kneeling in front of the toilet.
"Here..." Mrs. Nichols said as she opened the medicine cabinet. "Take some Pepto-Bismol... it should help settle your stomach."
"I'm feeling better, momma." Ali assured her as she started to get up off the floor, but as she stood to her feet she felt another bout of nausea hit. She fell back to the floor hugging the toilet.
"Uh huh." Her mother nodded as she took the bottle off the shelf. "I'll get your father to bring a spoon and a glass," she added as she poked her head out into the hallway and called, "Bill?"
"Is she all right?" her father asked, standing in the door frame of the bathroom.
"She's fine... once she gets all that alcohol out of her system she'll be right as rain... Would you be a dear and get me a glass of water and a spoon from the kitchen?"
"Sure baby," he agreed readily, taking off to do his wife's bidding.
"I don't want to take that stuff, momma. It tastes nasty," Ali complained, looking up at her mother from the toilet.
"I don't recall really giving you a choice, young lady. You'll thank me in the morning."
"I doubt it..." Ali pouted.
Her father was back in minutes with the glass and spoon, handing it over to his wife, but instead of leaving, he stood watching his daughter's obvious misery as her head still hung close to the toilet.
"Thank you, dear." Mrs. Nichols smiled as she took the items and placed them on the counter.
"Sure." He returned his wife's smile but soon his frown returned as he turned his attention back to his middle daughter. "Don't think you're getting out of having your bottom spanked. We'll continue our discussion when you're through with this little bout."
"Why would I think that?" Ali asked sarcastically.
Her father's threat now hung over her like the black plague. Stupidly enough, she had thought they might let her crawl into bed after she finished hurling her guts out. She should have known better. There was no way they would ever let her get away with skipping curfew and drinking.
Ali looked pitifully up at her father before making another deposit into the toilet.
Turning away in disgust, her father said, "Well I'm going to go and put another pot of coffee on. It looks like we're going to be up for a while."
"Okay, dear. We'll be out in a little while. I think we're almost done in here."
Once her husband was gone, Mrs. Nichols knelt down next to her daughter and began rubbing her back soothingly. Even though she knew her daughter had defied the house rules she felt sorry for her. She knew first hand how nasty it felt to have one too many drinks.
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