There was Mom, dressed in a plum-colored pantsuit and a crisp white blouse, pearls laced around her neck. Baking. A tray of fresh-baked muffins sat cooling on the counter, and she was now using some fancy device to make tea. Worst of all, she was humming along to the music. Mom rarely listened to music that wasn’t coming from a TV commercial.
“Mom?” I asked, cautiously making my way downstairs.
She turned and smiled at me. Her face was all dolled up, hair tumbling down her shoulders in flowing waves. Holy shit, my mother was beautiful. When was the last time I’d seen her looking like this?
“Oh, hi sweetie, I’m making ginger tea,” she said. “There’s fresh muffins, and I can whip up some eggs if you’d like.”
We had eggs? I’d been surviving on fast food and whatever I could eat at school or Connor’s house.
“Uh, okay,” I said. “Mom…are you…alright?”
She blew tenderly on the muffins and plucked one out of the tray, holding it out to me like this was normal, like she did things like make her son muffins and fucking ginger tea in the morning. “Just in a good mood,” she said. “I have an interview in a few hours, and oh, Daddy said he was bringing me a surprise tonight.” She lit up at that, like some love-struck schoolgirl. “Eat something, honey, you look like you haven’t in days.”
Mom had been somewhat like this before. When I was little, she was always baking, the radio playing soft rock, the window open, the smells of eucalyptus and sweetgum filling the kitchen. Those were the good days, the days when Dad didn’t get home until after midnight, and I was usually asleep by the time they were fighting and screaming and things were breaking. Mom’s wails were muffled by the walls and ceiling.
I sat at the table and picked at a blueberry muffin. Gunther was laying under my feet, tail wagging happily. Maybe I’d done too much acid and ended up in an alternate reality.
Mom kept humming, running her fingers along her pearls. I didn’t even know she owned them.
I finally swallowed hard and made myself speak. “Mom,” I said. “We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Can you please sit down?”
That’s when I noticed that she wouldn’t stop moving. She was scrubbing the counter, blowing on the muffins, checking the fridge, opening and closing cabinets. It was like someone had disabled her “off” switch. Even in her pretty pantsuit and pearls, she was scaring me.
“Mom, listen. I know you’ve been bummed out lately, but there’s some things you really need to do. I’m happy about your interview, but you need to remember to show up on time. And make sure to walk Gunther while I’m at school, and buy groceries and dog food regularly, and lay off the cigarettes, okay? I’ve been really worried about you.”
She wasn’t listening. She was still buzzing about, humming like she couldn’t hear me, munching her muffin, crumbs all over her blouse.
The kettle whistled. She clapped her hands like it was the most delightful sound she’d ever heard.
“Mom!” I shouted.
“Yes, my love?” she said.
“Can you please listen to me? For one second? You’re seriously creeping me out right now!”
For a moment the kitchen was quiet, save for the rock music and the sound of Gunther sighing. Then she glared at me, dusting the crumbs from her blouse. “You know, I haven’t seen your friend Jess around here lately. You two get in a fight or something?”
I threw my hands up. “What the hell does that have to do with anything I just said?”
“Watch your language, please,” she snapped. And then her voice went dark. “I miss having her around. She was so sweet, such a nice girl. You know, your dad thought that about me when we met. He thought I was such a nice girl, but now…” She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her trusty cigarettes, lighting one with shaky hands. “Now it’s like I don’t even exist. Like nothing I do matters. Well, how can I make it matter, Jack? How?”
Before I could even fathom how to answer that, Dad powered in. His keys went clank, his boots went bang against the wall as he kicked them off, and his voice went boom. Gunther let out a pitiful whine.
Perfect.
“How’s my beautiful family this morning?” he called out to us. He slapped his bloated belly and laughed and hiccupped. I could barely look at him. He’d been drinking hard. That was obvious. His face was bright red, and he was smacking his lips together like he’d just eaten something delicious. It was nauseating beyond belief. “Oh.” He stopped, as if he just noticed me and mom sitting there, and the blueberry muffins, and the kitchen full of groceries. “Well shit, Ellie. I haven’t seen this in a while.”
She smiled thinly. “Me baking? Would you like one, Jim? They’re fresh from the oven.”
He laughed. “Well, I haven’t seen you doing much of anything other than watching Maury re-runs in your bathrobe all day. And I’d love one, thanks baby.” He plucked one off the table and took a huge bite.
Mom wasn’t smiling anymore. She put out her cigarette in her mug of tea with a hiss.
“Things going well at the bar, Jim? You bring home enough tip money that’ll possibly help cover this month’s electricity bill?”
Gunther whined from under the table. I reached down to scratch him behind the ear.
“Well, you know, Ellie, at least I have a job. And at least I’m making more than minimum wage. If you’re so worried about the lights getting cut off, why don’t you go back down to the grocery store and beg for your cashier gig back, huh? Maybe the movie theater will let you sell tickets again. Maybe Jack can get another job after school, pitch in around here for once instead of running around all day with his friends. What do you say, Jack?”
There was so much of this I could take. “I’m going out.”
I started to stand, but Dad moved to block my way. “YOU SIT DOWN!”
“Jim!” Mom shrieked. “Don’t scream in his ear!”
“We are having a family financial discussion!” Dad yelled. Gunther shoved his nose against my knee and groaned, tail wagging nervously.
“This is not a discussion, and this is not a family!” Mom screamed back. “This is not a home! Look at this shit! Look at this cheap, shitty floor you can’t even be bothered to replace!” She fell to her knees and started tearing up the linoleum, a wild look in her eyes.
“Don’t, Ellie!” Dad dashed over and grabbed her roughly by the arm, and she elbowed him hard in the gut.
“Both of you just stop it!” I shouted. I tried to push him off her, and he lost his balance and tumbled to the torn linoleum, knocking over a chair and the plate with the muffins. It shattered instantly, and he cursed loudly as Mom screeched as loudly as the kettle. Gunther yelped and darted across the room.
“Oh!” Mom’s hands flew to her mouth. She looked around, eyes wide, tears streaming down her face, as if she’d suddenly realized where she was. “It was perfect! Everything was so perfect!” she cried. She hurried to clean up the broken plate. I tried to help her, but she snatched the pieces away from my hands, nearly cutting them in the process.
“Jesus, Mom! Let me help you!”
Dad was panting as he struggled to get up. I could tell by his face that the room was spinning, and that he might puke soon. It was nothing I wanted to deal with. So I turned to the door.
“Just where the hell do you think you’re going, Jack?” he bellowed, pointing at me. Mom was still crying about the stupid cheap plate from the Dollar Store, moaning about the surprise she wouldn’t get now. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Out,” I said. “I’m going out, and you both can sort your shit out while I’m gone.”
“Jack!” Mom gasped.
“You do not speak to us like that!” Dad growled. He was getting to his feet now, but stumbling, sliding on the floor that Mom had just mopped.
I pushed past Gunther, who was now whining and panting wildly in front of me, and grabbed my keys and wallet. Right as I was about to open the door, Dad shouted at me: “
Where are you going? Hang out with that loser buddy of yours?”
The words just tumbled out before I could stop them. “No, Dad, I need to go fuck that loser buddy of mine.”
They both stared at me, frozen in time for a moment, and I hurried out of there before I could hear any more from them.
37.
We laid on his bed, watching the ceiling fan make its slow, deliberate spins as it rained down cool air on our faces.
“One day we’ll go to Bermuda,” he said, his hand resting on my chest. “We’ll get on a jet and fly so far away from here.”
“We’ll drink piña coladas in the water,” I added, smiling at the idea.
“We’ll get so drunk the waves will probably wash us away,” he said.
I sighed. “I hope they do.”
He turned to look at me, searching my face for an explanation.
“No, I didn’t mean it…it’s just,” I said. “Nevermind.”
We lay there in the cool stillness for a while longer, the blades of the fan making a low whooshing sound against the static air.
“How’s your dad doing?” he asked, breaking the silence.
I shrugged. “My father is an alcoholic bartender.”
“My father’s in maximum-security prison.”
“Two fucked-up fathers. No wonder we’re complete degenerates. We never had a chance.” I laughed, but Connor didn’t.
Instead he sat up on his elbows and leaned over me, his eyes meeting mine with a ferocity I’d never seen before. “Don’t say that. Not even if you’re joking. Don’t ever say that.”
I must have looked shocked because he reached over and lightly stroked my face, massaging his nails through my scalp. “You know it isn’t true,” he said. “That’s what they want you to think, what they want you to believe. And the second you start believing it, you’re fucked.”
I reached over to hold his hand, pulling his body towards me. He draped over me like a warm blanket, his stomach pressing into mine as he exhaled.
“I believed it once,” he said into my ear. I could feel the vibrations in his voice all the way at the bottom of my spine. “I almost gave up completely, lost interest in living. I felt so disconnected from my body, like I was just this entity floating inside it, and it was a shell that needed to be taken off. Do you know what it’s like, to have someone overpowering you, hurting you, beating you, and there’s nothing you can do about it?” Something was cracking through that normally tough exterior.
I pulled his warm skin closer to me, pressing my lips to his ear. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you like that ever again. I promise.”
I felt his hot tears on my skin. It shook me to my core, feeling his brokenness. I repeated the vow I’d just made in my head, over and over like a prayer, rubbing his back like my mom did to me when I was little. How did he even survive as kid without someone there to love him, to protect him?
How could anyone?
38.
His sleeping face was buried in my navy blue pillow. Sunlight poured in through my window, shattering across his bare skin like broken snowflakes. I lay frozen, head groggy with sleep, my heart starting a steady drum line as I realized where we were.
We’d ended up at my house last night after spending the day at his. We’d been high, completely zonked out on weed, smoking and taking shots of whiskey until we ending up passing out in my bed.
My house.
Fuck.
I tried to attune my ears to the noises of the house, praying no one else was home. Connor’s soft breathing was like a lullaby tempting me back to sleep, but I was too wired now, too amped. I covered him with my sheet and walked softly to the door. Someone banged into it loudly, and I jumped. “Who is it?” I called. No one answered. I opened it slowly, relieved to find a fuzzy face staring up at me expectantly.
“Oh hey buddy, it’s just you.” I crouched down and gave Gunther a good scratching behind the ears. He wagged his tail and whined at me hungrily. “Where is everyone, huh? Where’re Mom and Dad?”
Gunther jumped onto my bed and began whining at Connor, digging a cold nose into his skin.
Connor rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head, moaning as Gunther flopped down on top of him and began panting and grunting, eager to be taken out. “He’s adorable, but please get him off me.”
“You’ve got to get up,” I said, hopping on the bed and gently shaking his shoulder. Gunther was drooling all over my sheets. “We can’t be like this in here.”
He turned and squinted up at me through sleepy eyes. “I thought you said this was your room and no one ever comes in here.”
“They don’t usually,” I said. “But sometimes if my dad is still drunk or comes home late, he’ll stumble in here by mistake.”
Connor crinkled his nose. “What if you’re like, jacking off or something?”
“Shut up!” I said, and he laughed. “Why are you not wearing anything? I am. What the hell happened last night?”
He shrugged and smirked, not seeming to care either way. “Uh, you don’t remember?” He sat up and kissed me, and I felt myself harden. “And you know I like to sleep in the nude.”
“Seriously, though, get up,” I said. “We have to leave.”
I moved to stand, but he grabbed my shirt and pulled me back down on the bed. “What’s your hurry? They’re not here.” He moved on top of me and kissed me again, his hands sliding down the small of my back.
“We can’t,” I heard myself say, but I was losing sight of the goal and the will to care. Gunther whined loudly. “I have to walk him. Get dressed.” I resisted and pulled away from his warmth, throwing his clothes that were all over the ground at him and grabbing Gunther by the collar. “Come on, buddy, let’s go out.”
I was surprised to bump into Mom right outside my door. She was dressed in her tattered bathrobe and chewing a dry piece of toast. Her hair was tied up in a bun and held together with chopsticks. The kind from the fucking restaurants.
So much for the blueberry muffins and the plum-colored pantsuit.
“Oh hey, honey!” she said. “If you’re hungry, I can make you something. I went out and got…well, hello there, Connor.”
To my horror, Connor was standing there shirtless outside of my room—but wearing shorts, thank God—leaning against the doorframe and smiling at Mom like this was just an ordinary fucking day at the Burns household.
“Hey, Ellie,” he said. “You look particularly lovely this morning.”
“Well thank you, honey,” she said, adjusting her chopsticks with a titter. Gross. “Anyway, if you boys are hungry I can whip up some pancakes. I just bought this great new mix at the Shop N’ Save.”
“That sounds great,” said Connor. I wanted to run back into my room, pull the covers over my head and never come back out.
After Mom made her way downstairs, Connor leaned in to kiss me, but I stiffened at his touch.
“What?” he said. “What’s your problem now, Jack?”
“Seriously? You can’t at least put on a shirt in front of my mother?” I heard myself snap at him. I went back into my room and started rummaging through my drawers for something he could wear. “Where’s your shirt?”
He tossed it at me. “There. It’s right fucking there. I thought you had to take your dog for a walk.”
Mom called from downstairs, asking if we wanted blueberries in our pancakes.
“Your mom is so cute,” he said.
I wanted to talk to him, to explain why I was acting like such an asshole, but all the frustration that had been mounting inside me was making it hard to think straight, let alone speak. What if Dad had been here instead of Mom? What if he’d seen—or God forbid—heard us together last night in my room?
I really had to be more careful. Dad might’ve been at least a little suspicious after that comment I’d made about going off to “fuck” that loser buddy of mine. At the time, he’d looked at me like I was just being a smartass, trying to rile him up, and hadn’t sai
d anything more on the subject. But I couldn’t risk it. We couldn’t stay at my place anymore.
“Jack?” Connor said. “Talk to me. Please.”
He walked over and put his hands on my shoulders, squeezing them. “Dude, it’s fine, your Mom fucking knows. You know she knows. Come on, I’m here shirtless in your house in the morning; we’re always out together. We sleep in the same bedroom. Do you really think she’s that dumb?”
I shrugged him off me. “I got to walk Gunther,” I mumbled. I needed to get outside, needed to get some air and get away from everyone.
39.
Something was up with Jess. I’d seen her trailing the halls by herself lately, head down, music leaking from her headphones as other kids pushed past her. Once I tried to talk to her, tried calling her name, but she kept on walking like she hadn’t heard me and let herself be swallowed up by the crowd.
In Government, we had a sub. He put on an old Schoolhouse Rock! tape and dozed off at his desk, a thin line of drool collecting on his chin. Most of the kids were on their phones or just dicking around quietly, but Valerie Baker’s voice penetrated the room.
“Skye Russo is ditching her as fast as those dark roots are coming back in,” she said with a laugh, using her little hand mirror as she swiped on clumpy mascara.
“I always thought she looked tacky as a blonde,” said Asha Yardley, and the other girls nodded in agreement.
I usually tuned them out, their dull chatter white noise to my ears, but this time they were talking about Jess. My Jess. My palms got hot and I fought the urge to speak. It’ll just make it worse, I told myself.
“I mean, I guess hanging out with Skye does have its advantages…” said Katie Oh.
“Yeah,” Valerie Baker cut in. “If you like giving hand-jobs to seniors in exchange for designer purses and maybe a prom invite.”
“And maybe, just maybe, breakfast at Denny’s the morning after,” Asha added. Valerie laughed so hard she almost poked herself in the eye with her mascara and grinned at her friend in approval.
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