Listen To Me

by Phylicia Joannis

CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Proverbs

  After service, Max barely speaks to Martin. His mind is too busy trying to figure out how to get to Jamie’s house without his mom noticing. He decides to sneak out when his mother is asleep. She’s in bed before ten, and things won’t really get started until after eleven anyways.

  Martin’s father pulls to the side of Max’s house; the driveway is blocked by Mr. Shaw’s blue Focus.

  Martin looks at Max, but Max is looking at his front door. His body is stiff and a firm line has formed across his forehead.

  “Max?” Martin inquires.

  Mr. West glances in the backseat. “Is everything alright?” he asks.

  Max gets out of the car. “Yeah, thanks,” he tells Mr. West just before closing the door behind him. His face is hot and he feels sick to his stomach. His mouth goes dry.

  You know what you need.

  Max opens the door slowly. The first thing he sees is his mother’s beaming face. “Max! Your father’s home!”

  Max looks at Mr. Shaw in disgust. “You shouldn’t have come back,” he spouts angrily.

  Mr. Shaw looks at his son apologetically. “Max, I know you’re upset, and I want you to know how sorry I am.”

  “Upset?” Max looks at his father, incredulous.

  Mrs. Shaw pleads with Max, “Maxie, just give your father a chance to explain – “

  “Explain what?” Max stares at his mother, amazed that she is still so willing to take him back. “Explain how selfish he is? Explain why he’s always leaving us without so much as a phone call? Explain why some woman called the house right after he left, asking if he was on his way?”

  Max’s mother looks cautiously at her husband. “What?”

  Mr. Shaw looks at his wife, pleading for her understanding. “Harriet, I swear to you nothing happened.”

  Max turns to his father. “You ditched us. You have no right to be here.” Max’s voice cracks and he wipes at a stray tear, but his parents aren’t paying attention to him anymore.

  “You’ve been seeing someone else?” his mother asks with a tremor in her voice.

  “I’ve been a fool, Harriet,” Mr. Shaw responds, grabbing her hands as he speaks. “I didn’t know what I wanted, but I do now.”

  She pulls her hands away and moves towards Max. “How could you?” she sobs. She shakes her head in disbelief as she cries.

  Max balks at his mother’s show of weakness, and he can’t hide his disgust. “You’re so naïve,” he says cruelly. “Did you even stop to wonder where he’s been this whole time?”

  “Max, please,” His father looks at him helplessly. “I promise you,” he looks at his wife, “both of you…things will be different from now on.” His eyes desperately plead for their understanding.

  “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll give up the late nights at the bar; I’ll get rid of every ounce of alcohol in the house, whatever it takes. I’ll make this up to you,” he looks at his wife. “I promise.”

  Mrs. Shaw blinks and wipes away her tears. “I don’t know, Arthur,” she speaks softly. “You’ve made so many promises already.”

  Mr. Shaw nods his head in resignation. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” He lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender.

  “Then why don’t you leave!” Max injects bitterly.

  “No,” Mrs. Shaw looks at Max, then at her husband. “Just give us some time.”

  Max glares at his mother, his voice dripping with resentment. “You want to let him keep hurting you? Fine! But don’t expect me to go along with it!” Max storms down the hallway to his room.

  “Max,” Mr. Shaw calls after him.

  “Just give him some time, Arthur,” His mother sits on the sofa and places her hands on her face. Mr. Shaw sits down at the edge of the recliner next to her. The wall clock ticks loudly in the silence. To Mr. Shaw it is a sobering reminder that he doesn’t have any more time to waste. Mr. Shaw folds his hands in uncertainty before placing them on his wife’s knee.

  “Harriet,” he looks into her eyes. “Nothing happened, okay?” Mrs. Shaw begins to cry.

  “I stayed at a friend’s house. He and his wife were going on a cruise and she called, apparently right after I left. She wanted to make sure I got the keys before they left, because they were in a hurry.”

  Mrs. Shaw looks away, but he gently puts his hand on her chin to get her to look at him. “I was there the whole time. I just needed some time to think things through.” He becomes very quiet, and puts his hands in his lap.

  “Max is right,” he sighs. His eyes begin to moisten. “I don’t deserve the two of you. I know that much. I’ve been a lousy father, a worthless husband and a poor provider.” He takes a deep breath and continues. Mrs. Shaw looks at him with uncertainty.

  “Harriet, there is something I do need to tell you.”

  •••

  Max opens his window quietly and takes one last look at his door before climbing out. It’s almost ten thirty, and he is ready to get to Jamie’s house. He had planned to wait until his parents were sleeping, but they were in a heated conversation that could last all night. Max is sure they won’t check on him for at least another hour. He walks a few blocks and then calls his friend, Joey, to pick him up. A few minutes later, they’re on their way to Jamie’s house.

  When Max and Joey arrive it’s already packed. Max bumps into several people as he makes his way towards the garage. The party is in the basement, but a lot of teenagers are lounging on the lawn. Max makes his way downstairs through a hazy cloud of cigarette smoke and finds the coolers by the table. They’re loaded with wine coolers and beer; Max grabs the first can he touches and downs it. The music is deafening, and Max lets it drown out the argument replaying itself in his head.

  Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has contentions? Who has complaints? Who has wounds without cause? Who has redness of eyes? Those who linger long at the wine, those who go in search of mixed wine.

  The whispered words come out of nowhere. Max grabs another can and frowns. His father has let him down for the last time. Max barely tastes the second beer and quickly opens up a third.

  Do not look on the wine when it is red, when it sparkles in the cup, when it swirls around smoothly.

  Max remembers where he heard the words. He finishes his drink and reaches for another, defiant of the proverbs in his head. His mother’s tear stained face floats into his mind. His own tears begin to fall and he quickly wipes them away. All the smoke is beginning to make Max feel dizzy.

  At the last it bites like a serpent, and stings like a viper.

  Max looks for something else to drink – something stronger. Someone is mixing drinks behind the counter, and Max grabs the first cup he sees. It stings going down, but Max grabs another. He sips this one, allowing the buzz to take over. His head begins to swim and he can’t see clearly.

  When was the last time he ate? Max spots a bowl of peanuts and grabs a handful as he watches a group of teenagers dance. The group soon becomes a distorted haze of objects in motion, and Max scans the room for a familiar face. He sees Joey and walks over to him.

  “Great party, huh?” Max laughs. Joey nods and tips his beer. Max tips his cup in reply. He squints at a girl in the crowd.

  “Doesn’t that look like Tina to you?” he asks. Joey looks at the girl and shrugs.

  “Nah, that’s not Tina,” Joey replies.

  “You remember Tina, don’t you?” Max snickers. “She dumped you for another guy, remember? Someone caught you in the men’s room crying about the breakup.”

  Joey shakes his head. “That’s not true, man. I didn’t cry. I don’t care about Tina. She’s history.”

  “Really?” Max eyes him warily.

  “Yeah,” Joey replies, nonchalant.

  “You sure?” Max asks with a slur.

  Joey laughs and shrugs again. “I’m sure, Max.”

  “That’s good,” Max smiles and pats Joey on the back. “I’m the one she dumped you for.�
��

  Joey laughs and shakes his head. “What? You’re drunk.”

  Max nods his head. “It’s true.” Joey shakes his head in disbelief. Max belches and laughs. “She dumped me for you. Isn’t that funny?”

  Joey frowns at Max and walks away. Max turns around and sees his ex-girlfriend, Shelly. She smiles at him, waving from one of the chip and dip tables, and he walks over to talk to her.

  “So, how are things, Max?” Shelly asks flirtingly.

  “Things are good, Shell,” Max replies.

  Shelly grins. “So, I’ve kind of missed you being around. I mean, nobody makes me laugh the way you do.”

  Max grins. “Well, I am a funny guy.” Shelly smiles at him, and for a few minutes they are laughing and joking.

  “So, guess what I’m thinking right now?” Shelly asks Max.

  “You’re thinking about getting back together,” Max smiles.

  Shelly grins again. “Maybe.”

  Max leans in close to her. “So, guess what I’m thinking about?” he whispers.

  Shelly shrugs. “You’re thinking about getting back together, too?”

  Max shakes his head no. “Nah, I’m thinking you look really ugly in that outfit.” Max snorts and laughs obnoxiously.

  Shelly is not amused. “Max, that’s not funny,” she whines.

  “I’m sorry,” Max speaks to her in a baby voice. “Don’t be mad at me, Shell. Look on the bright side. At least your family has money.”

  Shelly, apparently offended by his statement, tosses her drink in Max’s face and, after cussing him out to her satisfaction, walks away. Max grabs a napkin to wipe his face, yelling out profanities in Shelly’s direction. He grabs another drink and the haunting proverbs return.

  Your eyes will see strange things, and your heart will utter perverse things.

  After finishing the drink, Max joins the crowd of dancers. He spins around to the beat of the music, shaking his head faster and faster until the dizziness becomes overwhelming. Three teens jump back in disgust as Max vomits in the middle of the floor. Max looks up in embarrassment as everyone stares at him. He spots Shelly next to Joey, laughing.

  “What a junkie,” Joey mouths while shaking his head.

  Jamie runs to the floor with a towel in his hand.

  “Max, are you kidding me?” Jamie scowls as he instructs someone to get a mop.

  “I may be drunk, but I’m always good for a laugh, huh Jamie?” Max jokes, but Jamie doesn’t smile.

  Max decides to go outside and get some air. There are fewer people on the lawn than before. Max is having trouble walking straight, and runs into several people, making derogatory comments to each one. One of them retaliates and pushes Max out of his way.

  Max’s legs give out, and he falls, face first, to the ground. He is surrounded by a sea of cans, bottles, and cups. His eyes begin to glaze over and he can see very little; grass, feet, and then, nothing. The sounds around him become softer and softer until they can’t be heard at all. The only thing Max hears is the quiet whisper of the proverbs that have troubled him all night.

  Yes, you will be like the one who lies down in the midst of the sea, or like one who lies at the top of the mast, saying, “They have struck me, but I was not hurt; they have beaten me, but I did not feel it. When shall I awake, that I may seek another drink?”