Because of Ellison

by Willis, M. S.

  Straightening my shoulders, I backed away from my father to place distance between his wrath and my body. I stared at his face, which had turned a light shade of purple, and noticed that his hair appeared to be standing on end.

  “It was an accident … ”

  “You know what, Hunter? We’re done with your accidents, which is really just your excuse for your total lack of responsibility. You need to grow the hell up, son. You are 19 years old, could have graduated at 17, but instead, you didn’t want to put in the extra work to build up your credits faster. You have a full ride to Harvard and you cannot expect to pass as easily through that school with the same habits you had in high school. You need to start taking your life seriously. Your mother and I have supported you thus far, but that support will end if you don’t get your shit straight. On top of that, your lifestyle is seriously in question. We both suspect that you are not only drinking, but doing drugs as well. In fact, why are you swaying back and forth now? Take off those fucking sunglasses so that we can see your eyes. Are you drunk at this very moment or what?”

  My entire body tensed as I attempted to continue standing in an upright position. I hadn’t noticed that I’d been swaying, but given how hung over I was, it was highly possible. I wanted to sit down, but knew that doing so would only prove his point. Reaching up, I removed my sunglasses, only to be met with the knowing stares of my parents and I instantly regretted not using eye drops before coming to the main house.

  My father crossed his arms over his chest and one eyebrow arched on his face. “Just as I thought, your eyes are bloodshot as hell.” Stepping closer, he sniffed at the air around me. “You smell like alcohol and cigarette smoke.”

  I had nothing to say. Although my brain on normal days performed like a well-oiled machine, the alcohol and drugs I’d likely ingested the night before acted like a gunk that was gluing up the gears. I couldn’t come up with one intelligible sentence that would have any effect on reducing my father’s anger. Thus, I did what any normal, 19-year-old would do: I stared at him dumbfounded and kept my trap shut. I might have been thinking slowly at that moment, but I was still rational enough to realize that sometimes it’s better to remain quiet and take the heat than to open your mouth and stir the pot.

  “Sit down, Hunter, before you fall over.” My father’s voice had taken on a defeated tone suddenly. But was my father defeated — or was I?

  Sitting on the couch, I leaned back into the overstuffed cushions and stretched my long legs out in front of me and crossed one ankle over the other. If I was being made to sit, I knew a lecture was coming — and if I had to endure the lecture, I was going to make damn sure I was comfortable while doing so.

  My parents took a seat next to each other on the couch facing me. Their mouths were moving and I knew they were talking, but all I could hear was discordant sounds and disembodied voices as my conscious thought floated off into thoughts not yet explored.

  Bored with the repetitive pep talk that I’d heard my entire life, I allowed my mind to wander aimlessly. I remembered there was another party I was looking forward to attending that evening until I realized that getting there would be complicated given the fact that my car was at the bottom of the swimming pool. Nodding my head at my parents and putting on my ‘serious’ face, I was inwardly plotting how I would convince them to loan me another car out of my father’s impressive collection — at least until they bought me a replacement.

  My parents’ mouths continued to move and I continued nodding at what I knew were the important parts:

  “We won’t be here forever … ”

  “Learn responsibility so you can support yourself in the future … ”

  “Life is not about having fun only … ”

  “Your future depends on the decisions you make now … ”

  As long as I pretended to be paying attention, my parents would be satisfied. In all honesty, I could have typed out a script of this lecture, had them sign it and then promised to read it once every few months so as to avoid any unnecessary lectures in the future. By the time my mind had moved along to trying to remember what happened the night before, I heard the strangest thing.

  “ … Living with your uncle in Florida for the summer … ”

  What the hell?! Those words were NOT part of the script.

  Straightening in my seat, I held my hands up to silence my father’s tirade. “Whoa, what?! Run that Florida part past me again, please.”

  “Well, it’s about time you pay attention to something I’m saying.” My father’s voice dripped with condescension. “Your mother and I have decided that you’ve had it too easy in life and as a result, you need to straighten out your priorities. We are sending you to live with your Uncle Bill for the summer. He’ll put you to work around the house and you’ll find out what it is like to live in poverty rather than having everything handed to you. It’ll be good for you. I came from nothing, son, and I worked my ass off to get where I am today. There is no way in hell that I’m going to allow you to continue behaving like a delinquent teen. You are going to grow up, or you are going to be on your own. Do you understand me?”

  My eyes shifted between my mother and father. They both had their arms crossed over their chests and their faces indicated they meant business. I had to get out of this. Taking away my last summer before college would completely ruin my life. Okay — not my ‘life’, but still; it would ruin my summer before college.

  Clearing my throat, I threw on my but-I’m-you’re-little-boy type pouty face in an appeal to break down the weakest link — mom. If I could get my mother to waiver in her decision, my father might crack as well.

  “Listen, I’m sorry about the car and I’m sorry about your pool. I’ll make sure it never happens again, but you two can’t be serious about sending me to Florida. I haven’t seen Uncle Bill since I was five. And doesn’t he live out in the middle of nowhere? How will hanging out in a swamp teach me anything? If you two have to punish me, don’t you think it would be better to have me here where you can keep an eye on what I’m doing?”

  The looks on their faces told me that I was getting nowhere with my argument — fast. My head was still pounding, and I continued to grapple with the glue gunking up my grinding gears, so it became impossible to argue. Reality suddenly became sadly apparent:

  I had nothing.

  And I was going to Florida.

  Chapter Two

  The unfortunate thing about being a child in an overly wealthy family is that parents could afford annoying conveniences such as private planes. Rather than getting a few days … or hell … a few hours to think of a way out of exile, I was rushed like a captive to the guesthouse, forced to grab clothes and was abruptly packed onto my father’s jet faster than I could process what was going on. By the time I hit 40,000 feet above ground, my fate was sealed.

  My parents made sure to strip me of everything: my phone, my iPod, my laptop, my iPad — everything. If it could be plugged in, it was taken away. I didn’t even have a chance to type up a quick plea on my social networking sites for one of my friends to swoop in and rescue me; and if my car hadn’t been taking a cool dip, I might have considered making a break for it. My credit cards were the next to go. I never realized my dependence on plastic until I watched in dismay as my mother ripped the rectangular lifelines out of my wallet before brusquely handing the emptied leather shell back to me. The only thing left in it was my ID and the fake one hidden behind it.

  I took the opportunity of the flight to catch up on some sleep. About two hours into my snooze, the pilot’s announcement that we’d reached Florida woke me up. Looking out the window, I groaned to discover that the miniature cities that I’d watched passing by on my way out of New York had turned into a bunch of — well — green, as far as the eye could see. Every once in a while I would spot a spattering of gray, which I assumed could have been what Florida considered a city. I struggled to determine if I would survive the infinite amount of wilderness that apparently
ran amuck in this godforsaken state. I was a city boy through and through. Nature and I had never really shaken hands except for the manicured lawns of my friends’ parents’ estates and the occasional family vacation I’d taken when I was a child. Not to mention the bean sprout I grew in Kindergarten. I’d named him Earl and we were pretty tight until I forgot to water him for a month and he bailed on me. The experience proved a person couldn’t trust nature. If you didn’t give nature what it wanted, it wanted nothing to do with you. I haven’t trusted it since.

  For the next hour or so, I looked around the cabin of the plane while idly tapping my fingers on my legs. The lack of technology was getting to me and I was like an addict missing his next fix. I tried to formulate ways to get a message to my friends back home that I was in need of liberation. I considered smoke signals, carrier pigeons and even Morse code. Unfortunately, modern convenience had all but extinguished the need for archaic modes of communication and my friends would be none the wiser as to what I needed even if I was able to get the message out. I was screwed and I knew it. And I was extremely unhappy about my parents’ decision to force me into exile. What was I going to do in the middle of nowhere for three long months? This wasn’t punishment; this was torture. There were parties I was missing and alcohol that would fall down the throats of some other lucky bastard while I was holed up in the middle of the woods fixing shit. I didn’t deserve this.

  The plane finally landed in the middle of nowhere and the pilot emerged from the cockpit a few minutes later with a large smile plastered across his genial face. “We’ve arrived, Mr. McCormick. A business associate of your father’s is waiting on the runway to escort you to your next destination.”

  I looked up into the brown eyes of the pilot. His tanned face bore the fine lines of an aged man, yet the silvered hair at his temples gave him a distinguished look. Standing up on cramped legs, I reached into the stowaway compartments to extract my bags. I fished out my sunglasses and threw them on my face before stepping out the door and descending the stairs. I found the pilot shaking hands with another man I didn’t recognize who was dressed much like my father in a top of the line pinstriped suit. The man turned to smile at me before waving me over to where they stood.

  “Hunter!” The unidentified man strode purposefully towards me holding his hand out in greeting. Grasping my hand firmly, the man introduced himself. “My name is Robert Klimpt. I’m a business associate of your father’s. He called and asked me to authorize clearance for his plane to land on our private runway. I’ll be escorting you to the front of the neighborhood to where your uncle is waiting. It’s good to meet you. You look very much like your father.”

  Pulling my hand back to my body, I nodded my head, mumbled an unintelligible response and soon, we were making our way to the golf cart waiting nearby. Another 10 minutes passed as Mr. Klimpt babbled on about his business dealings with my father. We reached a large iron gate at the front of the community and between the thick iron bars, I could see a red truck that looked like it hadn’t been washed since it was built, which would have been roughly 1972. The red paint had faded and was broken up from rust spots, dents and dings that littered the metal surface. Beside the truck, stood a man who I assumed was my Uncle Bill together with a petite blonde girl. Both were dressed in plain white shirts and cutoff jean shorts and, whereas Uncle Bill was wearing flip-flops, the girl next to him wore no shoes at all. Her hair was styled into a short bob and it bounced around above her shoulders as she animatedly spoke. The man smiled down at her every so often between taking puffs on the cigarette he was smoking, but his eyes locked on me as soon as I approached the gate.

  “Well, damn, Hunter! Look at you! I’ve seen the pictures your mom has sent me, but I didn’t think you were as big as you are! How tall are ya? Six foot five?” My uncle’s voice was rough from years of smoking and his skin resembled a worn and wrinkled shirt. He was about as wide as I was tall and a veritable wall of muscle. After letting out a howling cackle that could wake the dead, he motioned to the little blonde beside him. “You remember your cousin, Lily, right? We’re both really excited to have you stayin’ with us this summer.”

  I slowly stepped out of the golf cart after the gates slid open and grabbed my bags before heading over to where they were standing. Once I’d exited the cart, Mr. Klimpt promptly said goodbye and hightailed it as fast in the opposite direction as the battery-powered engine of that cart could go. Turning back to my Uncle, I huffed out in resignation and threw my bags over my shoulder with one hand while reaching out to shake my uncle’s hand with the other.

  “Uh, yeah, I remember Lily. Hey.” I waved down at the small girl and her smile beamed up at me, bright as sunshine.

  “Hunter!” She bounced in my direction and took me into the biggest hug she could manage. “I really am glad to see ya. I told my best friend all about ya and she’s excited as all hell to meet ya.”

  Damn, that girl talked fast …

  “Watch the language, baby girl.” Bill looked down in Lily’s direction with a fake glare that was quickly replaced with a smile.

  Lily shrugged her shoulders. “Let’s get a move on. I’m losing precious time in the sunlight standing around here.” She turned suddenly and bounced her way over to the truck. Bill chuckled and clapped me on the shoulder as he said, “We’d better get going, son. You keep those girls out of the sun for too long and their heads start turning in circles on their shoulders. It’s scary shit.”

  I nodded silently and followed behind him. It was going to be one hell of a summer, but there was nothing I could do but suck it up and get through it.

  ~ ~ ~

  The trip to my Uncle’s place was cramped as we tried to fit ourselves into the cab of the truck. Lily babbled on about all the things they did in Florida, while I smiled and did my best not to look at the never-ending sea of green that passed the windows as we drove. Most of the activities mentioned by Lily included a lot of being out during the day and sleeping at night. I cringed at the thought, concerned that the circadian rhythm I’d worked hard to establish over the past few years of my life might get thrown off. As it was now, it was 3:00 in the afternoon and I should have still been sleeping in my bed with another two hours to spare.

  Pulling up to the house, my eyes once again bugged out from my head as Bill parked the truck in a wooded lot. The property was somewhat hidden from the road by the tree line and there was only one other house to the left of Bill’s. I looked over the metal roofs of both houses and then focused my attention on the aluminum siding on the shack, er, house I would be occupying. The little remnants of paint that remained on the siding looked awkward against the gray aluminum that was mostly exposed. The house was raised up from the ground and wooden lattice lined the bottom. A questionable staircase led up to the front door, and by the time the truck was in park, Lily had jumped out and was bounding her way up those stairs, quickly disappearing into the interior of the building.

  I climbed out of the truck and my shoe landed firmly in a mud puddle. “Shit!” While I pulled my sodden shoe out of the brownish liquid, my uncle chuckled.

  “Yeah, you got to watch out for those. It rains every day in Florida, son, and the lack of concrete makes walking around the property a bitch at times. You’ll get used to it though.” Chuckling again, he clapped me on the shoulder as he led me towards the house. “I know the place don’t look like much. That’s why I was real pleased to hear that you’d be coming down this summer to help me fix it up. In fact, I got the materials ready that you’ll need to scrape and prep the siding before we paint it. I figure, if you get started now, you should have a lot of it done by suppertime at seven.”

  We were making our way up the rickety staircase just as Lily came bounding through the door, nearly taking me out in her path. “I’m off, Daddy! El and I will be in our normal spot if ya need me.”

  Lily disappeared in the direction of the other house as I was led inside. I wasn’t impressed with the mismatched furniture and the
scraped up wooden floors of the place. Bill made a point to quickly show me the bathroom and my room, giving me just enough time to set my stuff down before whisking me back in the direction of the living room. Leading me out a back door, Bill stepped out onto an open porch that was littered with machine parts and a deadly mix of different chemicals, separated out in bottles. If this place ever caught on fire, we were screwed.

  Bill started pulling out different scrub brushes and spray bottles of clear liquid and handed them to me. “Sorry for the mess, son, but I don’t have time to deal with this shit and keep my auto shop going. I’d have Lily do it, but while the girl is good at reading and looking pretty, she doesn’t have a clue when it comes to tools of manual labor. Having you come down really is a blessing in disguise. It’ll be good to have some more testosterone around the place. Now, I gotta go back to work, but all you’ll need to do is spray that paint thinner on the paint that’s left and give it a minute before scraping it off. Should have no problem with it considering how old it is. After you’re done with that … ” Bill reached over and picked up a one-gallon paint canister and a paintbrush. “ … You’re going to be applying a layer of primer. You’re a smart boy, you should have no problem figuring it out.”

  I took the canister and brush from Bill’s hands and Bill turned to immediately exit the porch. Making my way back through the house, I decided to tackle the front elevation first. Stepping out onto the rickety staircase, I heard a loud slap of metal against metal and jumped back thinking the whole damn house was about to come down. Turning my head, I looked to the house on the right and saw Lily and another girl in their bathing suits as they were propping a ladder up against the side of the roof. Lily giggled at something her friend had to say and then turned to look at me in a failed attempt to be discreet. I noticed anyway.