by John Goode
Also, if a guy comes to school and holds your son hostage in the library, being drunk is no state to be making choices.
It’d be easier to deal with if she was always a horrible person, because then I could hate her with impunity and move on. And don’t give me that look of “But Kyle, you could never hate your mom. She gave birth to you.” Don’t kid yourself—that whole “they are family” argument doesn’t fly with everyone. Sometimes the people in your family are just that, people. They aren’t warm balls of love that you wish would stop being so mean to you. They are people you are legally required to live with until you can find a way out, and you can hate them as easily as you can hate a stranger.
In fact, it’s easier to hate family than strangers, ’cause odds are the strangers haven’t done nearly as much to you as so-called family has.
But, see, my mom wasn’t all bad, and that was the crux of my problem. It was like she was being held hostage by a much darker version of herself that came from drinking and drugs and all that crap. And there would be days, weeks, she would get free from her captors, and things around our house would change for the better, and all would be well. Except I had become used to the fact that it wouldn’t last. Sooner or later she would be taken again, replaced by the drunk and uncaring woman who resisted the urge of being a mother so much that when I was younger, she had her boyfriends discipline me instead of her.
I’m sorry. I got off topic.
There needed to be a talk, but I had no idea what to say. Mom, don’t be a drunk? Mom, stop killing yourself? Mom, go to hell? Yeah, it was a multiple-choice question that didn’t have a right answer. I felt the familiar pain of my stomach souring as I approached the house, wondering if I should just drop it and let it go as I always did. I was almost out of this town, and with it, her drama.
But from past experience, it was pretty clear I never really did what I should do.
When I opened the door, I had that weird disorientating moment where you recognize everything around you yet it all looks completely wrong. I knew I had walked into the right house because my key worked, but it couldn’t be my house because Gayle from the diner was standing in my living room. I was so confused I looked back at the number on the apartment door and then back at her. I opened my mouth to ask a question, but it just kinda hung open as I gave her a quizzical look.
“Oh, you’re home early,” she commented, like her being in my house when I got home from school was normal, and me coming home early was the only abnormal thing about this situation.
My mom walked out of the bathroom. She was wearing clothes that, compared to her normal wardrobe, would be considered fancy. “Did you say something…?” she began to ask Gayle and then saw me. “Kyle? What are you doing home?”
“I live here,” I finally blurted out. “Least I thought I did when I left this morning, but now I’m not sure.”
Gayle chuckled. “The place doesn’t look that different, does it?”
I had no idea what she was talking about until I looked around again. I had never seen our apartment this clean, ever. Everything was polished and sorted and just… not normal. Also, the ashtrays were gone along with the bong that sat on the bookshelf like it was supposed to be a work of art or something. “What’s happening?” I asked, sitting down before I passed out.
The two of them looked at each other, and Gayle nodded to my mom and said, “I think I’ll make a cup of coffee while you guys talk.”
My mom sat down on the couch, and I just stared at her as Gayle walked out.
“So… I’ve made a choice,” my mom said hesitantly.
I held my hand up. “I swear to God, if you say you and her are dating or something, my head might explode.”
She made a curious look like she had no idea where I had gotten that from and then laughed at my observation. “No, this is not me coming out. This is something else.”
I edged forward as I waited for her to say something.
“You know how I’ve always had this….” And she hesitated. “Well, you know how….” She paused again.
“Your mom is an alcoholic,” Gayle said, standing in the kitchen. I looked at her, and she added, “You do know you’re going to have to stand up and say that in front of a lot more people, right?”
My mom closed her eyes as Gayle’s words seemed to hit home.
Gayle came in and sat down as well. “Your mom is sick,” she began to explain as she pulled her keys out of her pocket. “And she wants to get well. I’m helping her with that.”
She handed me the keys, and I took them, not sure what I was supposed to do with them. Then I noticed what looked like a bronze poker chip hanging on it. There was a triangle on one side and some writing on the other. I looked back at Gayle, not understanding.
“That’s a ten-year chip of sobriety. I’m a recovering alcoholic as well.”
Gayle? Like my mom? Not a chance.
“She’s going to be my sponsor,” my mom tossed in. “I know I’ve let you down, but I need to change. I need things to….” She trailed off, and I could see the pain in her face. “I’m just tired of letting you down.”
“I was going to take her to a meeting this afternoon before you got home from school,” Gayle said, taking her keys back.
“Then go,” I almost shouted. “I mean, yes. I want you to go and get better.”
I could see my mom’s eyes tearing up, and mine started to in sympathy. “I never meant to…,” she began to say, but I stopped her because I didn’t want to hear all that.
I’d heard everything she was going to say before, several times, in fact. She never meant to hurt me, she was trying her hardest; she was upset I was the one to suffer. I was done with her telling me stuff. I wanted to see her do something about it.
“Just go to your meeting,” I said as firmly as possible. “We can settle the rest later.”
I don’t know if she got the hint or if she bought it, but either way, she looked at Gayle. “You ready?”
Gayle nodded and got up. When my mom walked into her room to grab her purse, she said quietly, “You don’t have to forgive her.” I looked at her, and she added, “Just because she is getting help doesn’t mean everything she did wrong is ignored. You have a right to be mad. This doesn’t take that away.”
“But if I don’t, I’m a dick, right?” I asked her, not even realizing how mad I really I was.
“No,” she answered. “You’re a human being who has been hurt. You have the right to feel any way you want.”
Words would not form in my head, which was good because my mom walked out and asked Gayle if she was ready. “I’ll be back at three thirty,” she said as they walked to the door. “You going to be okay?” I nodded as they walked out.
What the hell just happened?
From the window I watched them drive away, wondering if this actually meant something or was just the latest in a long line of disappointments that seemed to revolve around my mom. Either way, it was out of my hands for right now. Which meant trying to make up for turning into a complete asshole.
WHEN SCHOOL got out, Brad came by, and we stayed in my room and pretended to do homework but mostly made out on my bed and then lay there just enjoying being together again. It was weird because all the sexual energy I had before we broke up was still there, but there was a calmness now. Like just lying on him and feeling him run his fingers through my hair was as, if not more, important as before. Don’t get me wrong, if my mom wasn’t in the living room making dinner I would have jumped his bones something bad, but just lying on his chest listening to his heartbeat was just as satisfying.
“I missed this,” he said after a long stretch of comfortable silence.
“Me too,” I said, clinging to him as only howler monkeys are capable of.
“So you’re going to school tomorrow, right?” he asked, trying to be as nonchalant as he could be. Luckily I spoke fluent Brad.
“What’s up?” I asked, knowing he was up to something.
&
nbsp; “What?” he asked, trying to be like fifty times more innocent than he was. “It’s just a question.”
This is why I will never worry about him cheating on me. If he did, it would be so obvious that I’d know before he even opened his mouth. “You don’t just ask questions,” I said, sitting up.
“Sure I do, all the time. How are you? What’s up? How you been? Do you know where the bathroom is? See? I am question guy.”
I stifled my laughing as best as I could. “You’re up to something. I don’t trust you.”
The smile went away from his face, and he looked at me dead serious. “Yes you do.”
He was right, I did.
“You’re right. I do.”
His smile came back, and he kissed me, and I felt the world move beneath me. I don’t know how he did that. I just hoped he’d never stop doing it.
THE NEXT morning I sought out Jennifer before class started. I needed to clear things up with her before the guilt I was feeling caught up with me and hacked me up into little pieces like the horror-movie monster it was. I found her by her locker, changing out her books from the ones she brought home to the ones she needed first period. She smiled at me when I walked up, which was a good sign.
“So I’m a dick,” I said outright.
“I don’t completely disagree,” she said, still smiling.
“And I treated you horribly and should have never done that.”
“Go on.”
“And… um, I’m sorry?” I added, not sure what she wanted.
“And?” she prompted me.
“And I should eat a bug?” I tried.
“And?” she repeated.
“I don’t know what you want to hear,” I finally admitted.
“And I was being a tight-ass overreacting about one of my best friends hearing about my sex life, and that I should try to remember that Jennifer is always right, and Kyle is mostly wrong.”
“I am not saying that,” I said, grinning myself.
“Oh yes you are,” she said, closing her locker door. “Or I will go into messy detail about your sex life to anyone and everyone who can hear me.”
“You wouldn’t,” I said, not sure if she was joking.
“Oh, I would,” she answered, loving this. “Messy and graphic detail.”
“You don’t have that kind of detail. I know Brad didn’t tell you all that.”
She shrugged and began to walk away. “Who cares? I’ll make it up. You just know they’ll believe me.”
“Jennifer, please don’t,” I pleaded with her now, thinking she was being honest.
She paused and looked back, bursting into laughter. “Oh God, Kyle, you are so wound up. I am not going to do that. Apology accepted. A wise person once told me we all get one free crazy, and you used yours. All is forgiven.”
And just like that, a little of the guilt was gone.
“Sammy isn’t talking to me,” I told her as we walked across the quad.
“She’s in a bad place, Kyle. She trusted Jeremy, and Kelly happened. She trusted you, and you ended up snapping at her. She trusted Jeremy again, and he almost killed people. I’m willing to bet she isn’t talking to anyone.”
It made sense but didn’t go far in making me feel any better.
Brad met us on the music room steps, a Cheshire cat grin on his face. “Morning, guys,” he said, leaning over and kissing me.
I looked at Jennifer. “Do you have any idea what he is up to? Because it’s starting to worry me.” Jennifer looked at him, and he mouthed a word at her. Her eyes got wide, and then she looked to me and then to him.
“Seriously? You’re going to do that?” He nodded. “Today?” He nodded again, his smile getting even wider.
“Okay, now this is just mean,” I protested but neither one seemed to care.
“Make sure he’s in place?” Brad asked her. “If it’s not like… a thing….”
What the hell was going on?
“No, it isn’t a thing, dumbass. I’ll make sure he is there,” she said, grinning at me like a hungry cat would grin at a delicious-looking bird.
“Awesome,” he said, almost jumping up in excitement. “This is going to be wicked.” He pecked my cheek again. “I have to get shit ready. See you guys later.” Before I could stop him, he waved and took off across the quad.
I looked at her. “You’re really not going to tell me anything?”
She let out a laugh the Joker would be proud of. “Oh hell no. This is too good to spoil.”
I hated everyone.
I SAT through three periods, wondering if I should just go home before whatever this was could explode. I trusted Brad. What I didn’t trust was the rest of the school. Whatever Brad was planning could be made horribly wrong by just one asshole, and we all knew that.
Yet I stayed because if I left, Brad would never forgive me.
As I walked out, Jennifer was there, waiting.
“Any chance you’re going to give me a heads-up?” She shook her head. “Oh come on.” I was whining now, literally three-year-old baby not wanting to go to bed whining. “I’d tell you.”
She laughed evilly. “Then you’re an idiot because if you knew what was about to happen and didn’t let me get blindsided by it, then you have no idea how friendship works.”
None of that made sense at all.
She began to walk us toward the student union. I stopped walking. “We aren’t going in there,” I said firmly.
She reached back and grabbed my arm. “Oh yes we are.”
I swear that girl is surprisingly strong, because she pulled me into the building like I was a rag doll. The noise of the place was thunderous, and I was instantly reminded of why I didn’t eat in there. No one even gave us a second look, but I still couldn’t help but feel like I was in enemy territory. She began to drag me through the crowd, heading right to a table filled with the most popular girls in school. I really expected one of them to scream. “No, you can’t sit with us,” even though I wasn’t wearing sweatpants.
“Nononono,” I began to plead as she pulled us over to the table and sat down. She looked at the seat next to me like she was daring me to run. I slowly sat down as all the girls stopped talking and looked at us.
I looked around the lunchroom in confusion. This had to be a mistake.
Of course they weren’t going to talk to me, and what in the world would I say to them? “Hey, so you guys make anyone feel inferior or fat lately?”
So I just sat there, fumbled with my tie, and waited for Brad to come and save me.
“You know, I’ve seen that look before,” Jennifer said casually. I gave her a confused look, and she went on. “That look on your face is the same one I’ve seen in history books of people waiting to get their head cut off.”
“Really?” I asked her, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve read a lot of gallows fan fiction in your time?”
She laughed and actually snorted before she covered her mouth.
One of the other girls looked over at her and then to me and gave us a stink look. Jennifer noticed and got in her face. “Hey, Amanda, you ever get that prescription for your cream filled? I know how red it gets if you let it slide.”
Amanda looked away in disgust. The way her face got red pretty much confirmed that whatever dirt Jennifer had on her was pretty dead-on. “Any more of you bitches want to look over here?” she said louder. “Because trust me, I have no shame.”
They rustled in their seats, and all I could picture were cartoon chickens sitting on their eggs. I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing like a loon.
“See?” she said to me quietly. “It’s not all that bad.”
“What am I even doing here?” I asked her, sounding way too much like a drama queen.
I was about to lunge at her to make her talk when the lights in the lunchroom dimmed. There were nervous giggles all over the room, and the girls sitting next to us felt like they were vibrating in their chairs. I looked over to Jennifer in panic as Josh
Walker half strutted over to our table. “Can you guys bring your chairs over here, please?” he asked, gesturing to the center of the room. I didn’t move as the other girls got up and dragged their chairs with them.
“Come on,” she said, nudging me. “Get over there.”
I refused to move and literally grabbed the sides of my chair with a dead man’s grip. Josh looked over at Jennifer and added “You too.”
She froze, one hand paused over her chest as she pointed to herself lamely. “Me?”
He nodded and walked behind me. “Yeah, both of you,” he said, pushing my chair across the floor like I weighed nothing. I put my feet down and tried to stop him, but it was useless. He pushed my chair right next to the other girls.
Finally the other brain cells in my head got some oxygen and reminded me I could always just stand up and walk away. I was about to when Jennifer put her chair down next to mine and grabbed my hand.
Hard.
“Do not leave me,” she said in a voice that would have made Darth Vader pause.
I slowly sat back down and forced myself not to whimper as she crushed my hand.
Seeing we were in place, Josh nodded and walked away. I looked over at Jennifer. “What the hell is going on?”
She shook her head slowly as she talked to herself. “Who would even be asking me?”
“Ask? Ask you what? Who is asking who?” I was babbling now.
I could hear the PA system in the gym turn on, and a guitar began to strum a few notes. I instantly knew the song. It was that One Direction song. Though not a fan, it was impossible not to find it catchy as hell. The crowd began to talk among themselves as the words started.
