“Every father should remember that one day his son will follow his example instead of his advice.” – Anonymous

Chapter 9

Joey’s dad had been giving me rides home all week, since da… since Justin left, and today was no different. I would go to their house for dinner. Joey and me would play some video games, or read some comics. Then when it got late, Joey’s dad would take me home, to Britin.

Britin. What a stupid name.

Justin was the one who’d named it that. He was the one who named it that, and then left. And what do you know? He’d just done it again.

I’d known about their history before. I knew that dad acted like a jerk, and Justin left, and then they’d do it again. Only that was a long time ago, when I was really little. And the last time he left, he didn’t come back for ten years.

How long was it going to take him this time?

When I got home, I dumped my bag and shoes in front of the door, just like dad hates, just like I did every day. It was a small revenge, but it was all I could do right now. Then, just like every day, I went to his office, to see if he was home.

He was.

It was sort of ironic that once Justin left, dad had started spending more time at home.

As far as I could tell, he went to work, because he had to, and then he’d go see Uncle Mikey and Uncle Ben. Then he’d come home in the evening, and go in his office. He’d put on a shitty old record, usually Pink Floyd, and drink.

“Dad?” I asked, walking into the office.

Some office. The entire room smelled like booze, and pot, and cigarettes. There were empty bottles on the floor. The sandwich I’d tried to give him the night before was still on its plate, uneaten, and getting hard and gross.

“Dad!”

His eyes moved to look at me, but the rest of him stayed still. He was leaning against the wall, sitting on the floor, holding a half-empty bottle.

I was really getting sick of this. I was getting sick of the smell, the stress, the fear, and fucking Pink Floyd.

“Dad, how’s Uncle Ben?” I asked.

He shook his head.

No change, huh? I had to not think about that right now. I couldn’t deal with it. I’d talked to JR on the phone a few hours ago, and as her big brother it was my responsibility to sound cheerful, and reassure her that Uncle Ben was going to be okay. So I had to believe it. I had to.

“Did you eat anything today?” I sat down next to him and leaned against the wall, too.

He didn’t reply.

Every day he got a little bit worse. Every day he said less. Yesterday he told me that Uncle Mikey had told him to say hi to me. That’s all he’d said, but it was something. The day before, he’d told me to fuck off when I tried to give him dinner, and told me about how Uncle Ben had been looking a little bit better. The day before that, he’d even asked me how school was.

Every day he got a little bit worse.

I’d hoped Justin would come back before he stopped speaking entirely. I’d hoped he’d get over the stupid shit my dad said, and realize he belongs here, and that dad needs him.

But he hadn’t.

“Dad, you have to eat,” I said.

He didn’t reply.

“Damnit, you can’t starve yourself!” I kneeled next to him, glaring in his face. “Just because he left, doesn’t mean you can just STOP!”

He turned his head and looked at me, and I swallowed my tears.

Dad was losing it.

I’d seen him bad, before. I’d seen him on those anniversaries, growing up, that I didn’t understand until this year. I’d seen him when he wouldn’t let anyone else near him, so drunk he was drooling on himself, and ranting about shit I didn’t understand. I’d seen him so depressed he wouldn’t eat anything but bags of pretzels and liquor. I’d seen him puking up the pretzels and liquor hours later.

But those times had only lasted a day. The next day he’d clean himself up, and he’d be okay, and he’d apologize to me in that gruff way he has of doing it.

It had been four days now, and the light in his eyes was fading.

He looked sort of like a zombie.

Normally, I’d laugh about something like that. But right now, it sort of creeped me out. My arms got all goosebumpy and I felt a shudder go down my spine.

“Dad-“ I started to say, but my cel phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket. It was mom.

“Hey,” I said.

“Gus,” she said, sounding relieved. “How are you doing, sweety?”

“Alright,” I said.

“And how’s your father, and Justin?” she asked.

No one had told her Justin had left. I don’t think Uncle Mikey knew. I don’t think anyone knew, except me and dad and Justin, and whoever he was staying with.

I wanted to tell her. The little kid inside me wanted to burst into tears and say ‘Mom, Justin left, and dad won’t talk or eat and I think he might die, I think he might really die this time, mom.’

If I told her that, she’d freak out. She’d call dad and yell. She’d tell everyone and then they’d be on his case. And then she’d take me away from him.

“They’re fine,” I replied, trying to sound bored.

“We just spoke to Michael. He said they’re giving Ben another physical. So make sure your father has his phone on. If… if they find any changes, they’ll call him.”

“Sure, mom,” I said. I had to keep it brief. I had to keep it short. I wasn’t as good at bottling my feelings up inside as dad was. I was my mom’s son, too, and she was the one that was around the most. I’d inherited all of her drama and over-emotional crap. I had to keep a lid on it.

“Good night,” she said. “We love you.”

“You, too,” I said, shutting my phone.

Fuck.

“That was mom,” I said.

Dad just looked away.

“She said they’re giving Uncle Ben another physical, checking if he’s getting better. They’ll call if he is.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move.

“Fuck!” I grabbed his face in both my hands and glared into it. “Snap out of it! You can’t DO this! You can’t fucking… DO this to me!”

Fuck. My eyes were stinging. I was going to cry. I couldn’t cry. It would just freak him out. I knew dad. If I showed how fucking scared I was, or how hurt I was, he’d send me away. And then he’d lock himself up here, and…

And I didn’t like thinking about that.

I took a deep breath and blinked hard, willing the tears away.

“You have to eat,” I said.

He opened his mouth like he was going to reply, when his cel phone rang.

I grabbed it off the desk and yanked it open. “Hello?”

“Gus?” Michael asked.

“Uncle Mikey, is… what…” I couldn’t even form a sentence. That was fast. That was too fast. Mom had just talked to him. It had to be bad news. FUCK.

“He’s going to be okay,” Michael said.

I felt dizzy, and this time, I did cry.

“His fever is down. They’re… they’re putting him back on his meds. He’s going to be okay.” Michael was crying, too.

I laughed, crying at the same time, and handed the phone to my father, who looked terrified. He obviously thought the worst had happened.

“Uncle Ben’s okay,” I said.

He grabbed the phone from me, moving faster than I’d seen him move in days.

“Michael?” he said, his voice strained.

I couldn’t hear Uncle Mikey’s end of the conversation, but dad’s told me everything I needed to hear.

“That… that’s good,” he said. “Fuck. I… tell Ben…” he shook his head helplessly. “Tell him it’s about time.”

I heard Michael on the other end, laughing faintly.

“We’ll be there tomorrow,” he said.

After he hung up, he turned to me and stared at me, as if he was only just realizing I was there.

“Uncle Ben is going to be okay,” I said, smiling.

“He has to stay in the hospital another week, to make sure he’s stable. But he’s going to be okay,” dad said.

I felt light. I felt euphoric. Uncle Ben was going to be okay. Fuck, I’d been so scared.

“And this means you can all Justin, right?” I asked eagerly. “You can call him and tell him Uncle Ben is okay, and to come home!”

Dad’s face got this guilty, strained look and he shook his head. “I’m sure someone else will tell him.”

“What?!” I stood up, trembling. He wasn’t going to call him. “FUCK you, dad! What’s your problem?! You can call him! You can ask him to come home!”

“I can’t,” he said, his voice strained.

“YES you CAN! You just won’t because of your STUPID pride! All you have to do is call him and tell him you’re SORRY!” I couldn’t believe it. Dad was such an IDIOT. He HAD to call him! He had to!

“It has nothing to do with that,” he said, avoiding my eyes.

“Then what does it have to do with?! Why the fuck won’t you just call him and apologize and… and ask him to come home?!” Fuck. My voice was getting shaky. But I was so fucking scared. I couldn’t DO this much longer. I couldn’t FIX this.

“If he wanted to be here, he’d be here,” is all he said.

“He does want to! He LOVES you!” I shouted. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to yell and punch him and make him REACT, make him act like he felt SOMETHING.

“Sometimes that’s not enough,” he said calmly.

“You’re such an asshole!” I yelled.

He just smirked. “So I’ve heard.”

That was it. That was all I could handle. I grabbed my phone and ran, out of the office, up the stairs, and to my room. I slammed to door and threw myself on the bed and cried. Fuck, I felt like such a girl. I felt like such a weak, pathetic loser, but I couldn’t help it. I was fucking terrified. If Justin didn’t come back soon… dad would…

I sat up and dialed Justin’s number.

Only he didn’t answer. Of course not.

As soon as the beep sounded, I went off.

“You’re such an ASSHOLE. You  haven’t called, you haven’t checked on us at all! Do you know how bad off dad is?! Do you have any idea how he feels?! I HATE YOU.” I paused for a long moment, trying to catch my breath. “Uncle Ben’s going to be okay. You should go see him, at least. That is, if you give a shit about ANYONE but yourself!”

I hung up and threw my phone across the room, but it wasn’t enough. I was so fucking angry that it pulsed through my veins, making my head throb. I felt hot all over. I thought about the way Justin had promised, fucking promised not to leave again. I thought about how dad was slowly fucking dying inside. I thought about how both of them had said the stupidest things, and forgotten about me. Neither of them gave a shit about what happened to me. Justin left. He was supposed to me my dad. He let me call him that, so he was supposed to act like one. Instead, he LEFT. He LEFT, just like dad always did. The minute something went wrong, dad sunk in on himself, and Justin runs away, and I’m left. Alone. And I couldn’t call mom, and I couldn’t tell anyone, because then something worse would happen.

It was all I could take.

I fisted my  hand and pulled back, punching the wall as hard as I could.

The wall gave way, and my fist went through.

I breathed, hard and deep, feeling the anger slowly seep out of me.

Then I pulled my hand out, went to the bathroom, cleaned myself up, and went downstairs to make dad a sandwich.

He had to eat.

***

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