rummage through some of my old things without my father’s interference. Sitting on a folding chair in my old bedroom, I allowed myself to wonder what life would be like without him in it. If he had died in the accident and not been given another chance.
For as long as I could remember, my father had been an alcoholic. He drank just a few beers during the day to get through work, but by evening, he was usually belligerent and incoherent. Good days were days where he came home and passed out, only waking in the middle of the night to eat dinner and drink some more. Bad days were days when he would come home in a rage, throwing objects and hitting walls.
When we were little, my mother tried hard to hold the family together. She would give my father ultimatums and take him back and forth to AA meetings. When things got really bad, she would send us to stay with her aunt, Laura, in North Carolina. Inevitably, my parents would come and get us after a few weeks, draped in each other’s arms with big smiles spread across their faces. My father would apologize for his behavior and charm us all, hugging and kissing us. He’d ask us about the toys we wanted or the vacations we wanted to take. My mother would watch him and smile, wanting to believe him. Those moments grew further and further apart until eventually, they didn’t happen at all. When I was accepted to college, I counted down the days until I could leave that house and everyone in it. Leaving was the subject of my college application essay.
***
I was rummaging through an old box of comic books and lost in thought when I looked up and noticed Natalie standing at the threshold to my old bedroom with her head cocked to the side and arms crossed. She took a breath as if to begin a thought and then paused as her eyes darted around the room.
“What’s up, kid?”
She smiled walking in. “You’re going to be calling me that when I’m 30.”
“Probably.” I chuckled. “I’m surprised you never moved in here after I moved out.” I looked around at the pukey peach walls and dingy blue carpet. My old brass bed frame was barely visible beneath the piles of junk now crowding the room. It wasn’t glamourous but it was bigger than her room, and a little further away from our parents.
“It smells like boy,” she said wrinkling her nose.
“It should remind you of me.”
“Ick.”
I laughed.
She leaned against the wall beside me and slid down, sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her. She played with ends of her long curls, twirling them in her fingertips.
“How’s D.C.?” She asked after a moment, in a tone that seemed more eager than I expected.
“It is what it is.” Sensing her disappointment, I elaborated, “Weather is nicer. It’s cool to finally be on my own.” I pulled a comic book out of its plastic wrapper and began flipping through the pages. She nodded. “How’re things here?” I asked putting the comic back in the box and looking at her.
“Can’t you guess?” She rested her head against the wall and gazed up at the ceiling.
I nodded. “I mean, aside from the bullshit.”
“There’s only bullshit, Nate.” She looked at me then stared at the floor. Her fingers tugging at frayed carpet hairs. “I’m thinking about dropping out of school.” Natalie was seventeen and in her senior year of high school.
“What? To do what?”
“I don’t know. I’m not as smart as you so I’m probably not going to college. Probably just get a job. D.C. isn’t that expensive, right?”
I laughed, but my heart began to pound . D.C. was mine.
“I’m kidding.” I knew she wasn’t. “I don’t know. Maybe go to California.”
“What?” I laughed. “What’s in California?”
“Forget it.” She stood and placed her hand on the door preparing to leave the room. “I’m just being dramatic.” She tried to laugh and return the lightness
For as long as I could remember, my father had been an alcoholic. He drank just a few beers during the day to get through work, but by evening, he was usually belligerent and incoherent. Good days were days where he came home and passed out, only waking in the middle of the night to eat dinner and drink some more. Bad days were days when he would come home in a rage, throwing objects and hitting walls.
When we were little, my mother tried hard to hold the family together. She would give my father ultimatums and take him back and forth to AA meetings. When things got really bad, she would send us to stay with her aunt, Laura, in North Carolina. Inevitably, my parents would come and get us after a few weeks, draped in each other’s arms with big smiles spread across their faces. My father would apologize for his behavior and charm us all, hugging and kissing us. He’d ask us about the toys we wanted or the vacations we wanted to take. My mother would watch him and smile, wanting to believe him. Those moments grew further and further apart until eventually, they didn’t happen at all. When I was accepted to college, I counted down the days until I could leave that house and everyone in it. Leaving was the subject of my college application essay.
***
I was rummaging through an old box of comic books and lost in thought when I looked up and noticed Natalie standing at the threshold to my old bedroom with her head cocked to the side and arms crossed. She took a breath as if to begin a thought and then paused as her eyes darted around the room.
“What’s up, kid?”
She smiled walking in. “You’re going to be calling me that when I’m 30.”
“Probably.” I chuckled. “I’m surprised you never moved in here after I moved out.” I looked around at the pukey peach walls and dingy blue carpet. My old brass bed frame was barely visible beneath the piles of junk now crowding the room. It wasn’t glamourous but it was bigger than her room, and a little further away from our parents.
“It smells like boy,” she said wrinkling her nose.
“It should remind you of me.”
“Ick.”
I laughed.
She leaned against the wall beside me and slid down, sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her. She played with ends of her long curls, twirling them in her fingertips.
“How’s D.C.?” She asked after a moment, in a tone that seemed more eager than I expected.
“It is what it is.” Sensing her disappointment, I elaborated, “Weather is nicer. It’s cool to finally be on my own.” I pulled a comic book out of its plastic wrapper and began flipping through the pages. She nodded. “How’re things here?” I asked putting the comic back in the box and looking at her.
“Can’t you guess?” She rested her head against the wall and gazed up at the ceiling.
I nodded. “I mean, aside from the bullshit.”
“There’s only bullshit, Nate.” She looked at me then stared at the floor. Her fingers tugging at frayed carpet hairs. “I’m thinking about dropping out of school.” Natalie was seventeen and in her senior year of high school.
“What? To do what?”
“I don’t know. I’m not as smart as you so I’m probably not going to college. Probably just get a job. D.C. isn’t that expensive, right?”
I laughed, but my heart began to pound . D.C. was mine.
“I’m kidding.” I knew she wasn’t. “I don’t know. Maybe go to California.”
“What?” I laughed. “What’s in California?”
“Forget it.” She stood and placed her hand on the door preparing to leave the room. “I’m just being dramatic.” She tried to laugh and return the lightness
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