by CeeCee James
I laughed. “Not even close. You?”
“Naw, I’ll get my sister to do it tonight.”
“What?” Thomas took a swig of his soda. “Your sister does your homework?”
“Yeah she does. If she wants me to take her to the parties, she’d better.”
“Cool! Maybe she should do mine. I’ll take her to a party.” Thomas gave a half smile.
Eric shook his head, but smiled. “Man, just shut up.”
We joked around some more. Eric was pretty cool.
Alice stuck her head out the metal door. “Dishes piling up in here,” she warned.
I stubbed out my cigarette against the wall. Eric stepped on his and then he followed us back inside.
Eric did pretty well with keeping up with the dishes, so I left him to go tackle the pans. They were older than dirt and had to be handled carefully because their rough edges would slice through skin, leaving it gaping wide and bloody. It wasn’t easy washing dishes with a bloody hand, I ought to know.
I glanced over at Thomas. He was squeezing the butter packs one by one into his hand. He looked up at me and gave a silent laugh. Gently, he molded the butter into a baseball. Then, just like he was bowling, he lined up with his target, Eric’s back end as he leaned over the sink. Thomas took a wind up, then let the butter fly. I held my breath as it sailed through the air. It splatted up between Eric’s legs. I laughed so hard I could barely stand, and staggered against the sink. Eric looked down, confused, then set after us with the water hose.
Alice yelled from her corner. “Hey! What’s going on over there?” We didn’t answer, just laughed harder. Good times.
Chapter 14
The months added up, until we’d been at Chloe’s for over a year. Mom had been using the time to go back to school and earn a degree. I’d just turned sixteen when Mom was able to get a job that paid more than the deli and we moved out to a studio apartment. We didn’t have much to move, which was probably a good thing. The room was small and heated up like a toaster oven with the four of us in it.
After all those years of freedom in the woods, I dreaded going home to the studio after school. It always felt like the four walls were closing in on me, and there was no place to just sit and be quiet. Even if I was the only one home, which rarely happened, it didn’t feel quiet because of all the school books, clothing, towels and dishes that spilled over and onto every square inch.
That night, after work, Thomas drove me to the studio. I frowned when I looked up at our window. The lights were off. My brothers would be asleep on the bunk beds. I was supposed to have a bunk bed too, but usually crashed on the couch rather climb on the bottom bunk that squeaked all night every time my brother moved.
Thomas must have seen me hesitate before opening the car door. “You want to just crash at my house? We’ve got that loft above the garage,” he said. It didn’t take me but two seconds for my brain to comprehend his words.
“Hell yes!” I answered.
From then on, I stayed in the loft at Thomas’ house every chance I got.
The longer I stayed at Thomas’ the more confusing emotions started to surface. I suddenly could barely stand to be around Mom. My life felt like it had gone to hell in a hand basket, and it felt like she was half to blame. It was easy to point out Dad’s faults, but I used to watch her egg him on many times. She never seemed happy with him, even during the best of times.
As much as she was done, well, I was feeling done too.
It was only a few weeks later when I told Mom that I wasn’t coming back to the studio.
Her eyes flew open. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. You’re turning out just like your father.” She wiped a few tears away with an angry movement of her hand. “If you go, that’s it, there’s no coming back.”
Her tears had the opposite effect on me. I didn’t know what she was crying for. My family had been ripped apart, with my brothers running to their friends and me to mine. Nothing was the same any more. I was ready to erupt all over her, but bit my tongue and packed my stuff into a plastic bag. She didn’t say anything more when I left.
Life in the loft was very different from my house on the hill. There wasn’t a ladder to get up to this loft, but a solid staircase. When I realized it was my place I spent the first few minutes admiring the wood trim and knocking on the walls to feel how solid it was. The loft was completely finished, with drywall and paint. It had a full bathroom. It was the first time I’d lived in a real house since I was a little boy in Wildfire Rim. It kind of made me choked up.
Thomas’ parents welcomed me from the beginning. They knew about Dad, but they didn’t ask me too much about him. Thomas’ mom took me under her wing. She didn’t pull any punches, just laid it on the line. “You keep your butt in school and graduate.” Another time she said, “I’ll kick your butt if you do drugs.” She’d also pester me to get good grades and not to skip class. I didn’t always do what she asked, but her words stuck with me. It kind of felt good to be looked after
*****
A few weeks later Thomas and I headed out of Truck Depot at the end of our shift. We rounded the corner, bone tired, talking about the Truck Depot’s new waitress, a cute girl from school who was in way over her head dealing with the rough customers at the job.
I spotted a white Toyota truck parked in the front of the lot. In the shadows, a man leaned against its side. My stomach dropped. It was my dad, waiting for me. My legs locked up for a second, before I caught myself and tried to appear cool.
“Hey,” I said. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, making an effort to seem unconcerned.
His hands were jammed into his Carhartt’s pockets and he stood up from the truck. His eyes looked relaxed. “Hey, Son. How’s it going?”
I didn’t know how to answer that, so I gestured to Thomas, “This is Thomas.”
My dad shook his hand. Thomas’ eyes darted between the two of us, and he gave a half smile.
“Taking care of yourself?” I asked. Dad looked pretty thin and wiry since I’d last seen him. But, the smile was back on his face. I hadn’t seen that for a long time.
“Yeah. I got myself a roommate up on the hill. Things are pretty good. You should come up and visit some time.”
“Yeah, okay, maybe.” I nodded. He opened the door to his truck. I could see a few empty bottles on the floorboards, and a case of beer on the seat.
“Come on up, Son. Maybe we could tip back a few and go throw a fishing line in. The river’s been amazing.” He slapped me on the shoulder. I stiffened. He lowered his eyes. “See you soon, maybe.”
Then a nod to Thomas. “Nice to meet ya.”
As he drove away, Thomas said. “He seems cool.”
My heart felt like a lead weight. I missed my dad.
Chapter 15
Alice told me I had a phone call. I wiped my wet hands on my dirty apron and picked the phone off the counter. It was Dad. We hadn’t talked since he surprised me a few weeks ago. Hearing his voice made me feel awkward.
“Hi Jim.”
“Dad, I’m working.”
“What time you off?”
“Uhh.”
“I’m headed to the river this afternoon to do some fishing. I want you to come.”
I rested my forehead against the ceramic tiles on the wall. Rolled it back and forth.
“Yeah, sure. Okay.” I said.
“Great. See you later, alligator,” he said.
Those words gave me a hitch at the memory. “Yeah, yeah, after a while,” I said, and hung up. I started to grin.
Alice brushed past me carrying an enormous bowl of potato salad. “What are you smiling at?” she asked.
I rubbed my mouth. “What? Nothing,” I said, and went back to the sink.
Alice’s shift ended at the same time mine did. At the time clock, I asked her for a ride, cringing a little because I was sixteen and needed to get a car. Alice never minded giving me rides, calling me a good kid, which kind of made me
laugh. She dropped me off a half a mile from the river, and I walked the rest of the way.
Dad was sitting on a battered lawn chair by a bend in the river. He had his shirt off, and a gold chain glittered in the sun around his neck. I shook my head. He must’ve thought he was something else. Dad had my old fishing pole lying next to him. His fishing line was already in the water, and he watched it with his hat pulled low. Next to him was a six pack of beer.
I walked down the rocky beach, being careful of any ankle busters that might roll lose. He looked up when he heard me. There was a sandy log nearby that had recently been river junk, and I straddled one end and gave him a slight wave. He popped the tab of the beer and leaned over to hand it to me.
I looked at it for a moment, my heart churning inside of me. So many thoughts rushed my head, like cattle charging to get through the gate at the same time. Then a bigger, stronger thought knocked them all down. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
I grabbed the can. Dad sat forward and took a beer for himself. He popped the tab off of his, foam running down his hand, and glanced back at me.
My can was wet with beads of condensation. I held it up to my mouth and hesitated, then took a big swig. Dad smiled and tipped back his own.
I knew that by drinking the beer Dad saw me as a man now. And something inside of me rose and grew. I wanted that.
Scooting up, I grabbed my pole and fiddled with some bait, then dropped my line in. We didn’t say anything, didn’t feel like we needed to. Sitting quiet on that log with the sun beating down on me, no other sounds but the river burbling against the rocks; well, it’d been a while since I felt felt so happy.
He whistled when I reeled in a beautiful speckled trout. Later, I nodded when he pulled in his. We watched the sun turn the horizon all pink and orange, and the air became considerably cooler. Then, Dad pulled in the line, so I stood up to packed the gear. He folded up his chair and carried it by its rusty leg. I followed him to his truck.
“Can I drop you off somewhere?”
“Yeah, Thomas’.” My voice cracked from being quiet for so long.
He eyeballed me. “What? You moved out?”
“Yeah.” I threw the gear into the back of his truck with a clatter.
Dad stared at me for another second, before he climbed in back and dumped his fish out from the bucket into the ice chest. He nudged the fishing poles to one side with his foot.
“Why don’t you and Thomas come over Friday? I’m having a few friends up at the house.”
I nodded, trying to act nonchalant. Inside the emotions were churning again.
Chapter 16
Friday came. I felt both hot and cold about the party at Dad’s that night. My stomach roiled with strange zings and nerves, anxious that I’d somehow mess it up. Or he’d mess it up.
It was the longest day of school ever. Going down the hallway to my third period I saw Brett, my friend from math class, standing at his locker. He always gave me his homework to copy, and in return, I’d share the answers to the tests that I’d get from the kid in the period before us.
Brett waved me over, then slapped me a high five when I stopped. “Hey, how’s it going?”
I gave him the thumbs down.
He reached deep into his locker to get behind a thick stack of books. “What’ve you got going on tonight?” He pulled down a book, and a pile of loose papers spilled out. “Crap!” he muttered, trying to catch them on his leg.
“Party up at my dad’s place.” I gave a half-smile and shrugged.
He bent down and picked up the papers, cramming them into the bottom of the locker. Then he straightened and slammed the metal door. “Cool.” He nodded. No explanation needed about why a dad would party with his kid. He’d heard all about my dad.
“Want to come?” I asked.
Brett shuffled the books in his arms. “Yeah, maybe I’ll check it out.”
“It’ll be fun.” I felt better. I could have my own posse there with me for protection. They’d be my shield so I didn’t have to feel any weird emotions around Dad. It was going to be pretty strange being at the house again, just for starters.
Word spread. I don’t know if it was curiosity about my dad or what, but a whole gang of kids told me they planned on showing up.
I had to work after school, and caught the metro bus to the Truck Depot. Thomas was going to meet me later to pick me up.
It was a crazy day at work. The other dishwasher didn’t show up, sick with “Friday partyitis.” I busted my butt all evening, trying not to stress about my friends arriving without me at Dad’s house. At eight o’clock my shift ended. I closed the dishwasher on the last load of dishes, and glanced around at the clean kitchen, then ran to the time clock and punched out. As I opened the back door, Dean, the new restaurant manager, called me back.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” His black eyebrows furrowed at me.
“My shift’s over. I’m off.”
“They’re bringing back another load of dishes. You can’t go!”
“Have Margie do them. I’m off the clock!”
“I don’t care what you are. You stay here until all those dishes are gone.”
The kitchen door swung open, and a trolley loaded with dishes was rolled in by the busser.
“Get to it.” Dean said, before walking out to the dining room.
Just steps away, outside the back door, Thomas pulled up. He gave me a grin.
The pile of plates settled on the trolley, sending a couple cups crashing to the bottom of one of the bins.
Thomas honked his horn, and waved, “Come on!”
You want your dishes gone, fine. I’ll get them gone.
I pushed the trolley past the sink and over to the trash can, freshly emptied with a clean black hefty bag.
Thomas honked again.
We’re late! He pantomimed through the window.
“I’m coming I’m coming.” I waved back.
Very carefully, very quietly I lifted out a stack of the thick white plates and put them in the trash. I stacked the second load in. Glass clinked around. I looked over my shoulder, no Dean. I piled in the last of the dishes, and rolled the trash can to the back door
“Dishes are gone,” I muttered, and shut the door behind me.
Outside I waved Thomas to come help me. The trash bag looked pretty heavy. Thomas slammed the door, ignoring my finger in front of my mouth. “Shhh dude!”
“What?” he shrugged.
“Help me get this bag into the dumpster.”
Thomas arched an eyebrow at me. As we lifted the can the dishes clinked inside. He laughed. “Oh man! What did you do?”
“Hey, I was only doing what he asked!” I said.
We heaved the bag into the dumpster with a loud crash, then I pushed the can against the wall. With a huge grin, I jumped into the GTO. It was Friday night and time to party.
We headed out of town with the music blaring. Ten minutes later, Thomas roared up my old driveway that was lined end to end with cars. Like I suspected, my friends were already there, and Dad had some friends too.
The inside of the house was packed with people. I picked out Dad’s friends right away. They all wore the same outfit of muscle tank tops, gold chains, and cut off blue jeans.
Then, I groaned when I saw my friends talking with Dad’s people. There were beer cans everywhere. Empty. Tons of laughter. Everyone was feeling good and having fun.
I grabbed a beer and tried to catch up. Dad sat in his battered easy chair and waved his hand at me, “Hi.” He didn’t wait for my wave back, but returned his attention to a crowd of people, mostly my classmates.
Surreal anxiety shot through me. My friends were partying with my dad without me. What the heck? This was my dad! These are my friends!
The weirdness twisted me all up. I chugged the can of beer trying to shrug it off. Giving a loud burp, I crushed the empty can and got another one. Then, I broke into the crowd around Dad.
“And
that!” he yelled, his eyes flashing at the people grinning at him, “is how you clean a hose!”
Everyone laughed at the punch line. I’d missed the dirty joke but chuckled anyway. Quick, drink more beer. All this weirdness will go away in a minute.
Many cans later, the music was thumping and all us kids were getting rowdy. We went outside to build a bonfire. Dad was gone. He’d left at some point with a couple of his friends, maybe to get more beer, or headed to the bar. I didn’t care. I was whooping it up and having a good time.
I drank until I puked. I don’t remember how Thomas and I got home that night, but the next morning I woke up in my bed still fully dressed. Even my shoes were on. The phone was ringing, feeling like it was imbedded somewhere inside my brain. Slowly, I sat up, holding my head to keep things still. After a couple of seconds of not moving, I leaned over for the phone.
“h..Hello?”
“Son?” Dad’s voice boomed, hail and hearty.
“Yeah?”
“Where the hell is the middle cushion for my couch?”
“What?”
“My couch! My cushion!”
“It’s missing?” My brain puttered. I had no idea. I could barely remember last night.
“Hell yes, it’s missing!” He grumbled a little, before he gave a laugh. “You sure know how to party, Son.”
Chapter 17
It’d been a little more than a year since I moved in with Thomas, and I was seventeen now. Every weekend was a party at Dad’s place.
The alarmed buzzed, forcing me to wake up. I blearily glared at the alarm clock before pulling the pillow over my head to muffle the sound. It might have worked too, if Thomas hadn’t been pounding on the door. “Just want to sleep!” I yelled the last word, at Thomas or at the alarm clock, I didn’t know.
Earlier this morning, I crawled into bed smelling of stale bonfire and cigarettes. I’d hoped to catch a few hours of sleep before staggering off to school. Soon I wouldn’t be worrying about school anymore. I was graduating in a week.