concentration and I see him standing on the top step, the screen door leaning on him. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years and he appears to have aged a great deal in that time.
Swallowing, I stay on the sidewalk. This is harder than I thought. “Dad, we need to talk.”
He doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares at me. It’s the same stare he gave me that night at the hospital. “Come in. I can only imagine what this is about.”
I follow him inside, and the step over the threshold gives me the same chills as I had in the alley. There are pictures of my brother on a shelf and none of me. I know that’s how it’s always been, but it still hurts to see. He sits at the kitchen table and pours himself a glass of tea but doesn’t offer me any.
“You look like shit, Nathan.”
I lick my lips and look around the room. He’s been alone in this house since my parents divorced, not long after my brother’s death. That was damn near almost thirty-five years ago.
“I need a place to stay.”
The room falls silent again and he takes a long drink. “You mean you’re not living a perfect life with Rose and that boy of yours? I can’t imagine what you’ve done now to fuck that up.” The sarcasm is thick and I fight hard not to get angry. One sarcastic remark back and I’m out on the street.
“We’ve hit a rough patch, but things will work out. We just need space.”
He points at my face. “She do that to you? She give you that black eye?”
“That’s another long story. Rose had nothing to do with it. I know you and I don’t have the best relationship. It’ll be like I’m not even here. I’ve been busy with work and things. I just…” I rake my hand through my hair. I hate asking for help, especially from someone who can’t stand breathing the same air as me. “I just need your help, Dad.”
He looks up at me, making eye contact for the first time. “Just like Sammy needed your help?”
Here it comes. It usually isn’t this quick to come up in conversation, but he’s straight and to the point. “I helped him, Dad. I called the ambulance. I held him in my arms. I was right there.”
“Where were you when he was in the street? Where were you when the car barreled right over him and kept on going? You should’ve been watching him!” He slams his hands down on the table, rattling the tea pitcher. It’s the same line of questioning he asks me every time I’m in his presence and I still am not used to it. I feel the tears well up in the corners of my eyes. It’s something I’ve never gotten over and something I rarely talk about with anyone, not even Rose.
I know my goal was to not fight with him. After all, I’m here in his kitchen because I need his help, but I can’t stand this. I can’t help but stand up for myself. “I was ten years old. He was eight. Where were you? Why would you and Ma leave us alone?” I’ve never asked him that, though I’ve always wanted to. “That’s a shit load of responsibility for a kid.” I glare at him and we both keep eye contact for several seconds before he breaks it.
Standing up, he looks out of the window above the sink. At least it got him to think, though I’m almost certain he won’t let me stay here now.
“It shouldn’t have been Sammy,” he mutters. What he really means is that it should have been me. He’s said that before. “Take this from someone who has been through it, Nathan. Fix your marriage. I haven’t seen your mother since she left that day and it still hurts just as bad now as it did when she walked out that front door.”
I shift my weight in the kitchen chair and it creaks beneath me. “I know, Dad. I haven’t seen her since then either.”
“You’re messing up your marriage just like you messed mine up. She couldn’t handle Sammy’s death. She always hated when I’d blame you. We’d fight for days because she stuck up for you, Nathan. She left because she grew to despise me for it all. And now
Swallowing, I stay on the sidewalk. This is harder than I thought. “Dad, we need to talk.”
He doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares at me. It’s the same stare he gave me that night at the hospital. “Come in. I can only imagine what this is about.”
I follow him inside, and the step over the threshold gives me the same chills as I had in the alley. There are pictures of my brother on a shelf and none of me. I know that’s how it’s always been, but it still hurts to see. He sits at the kitchen table and pours himself a glass of tea but doesn’t offer me any.
“You look like shit, Nathan.”
I lick my lips and look around the room. He’s been alone in this house since my parents divorced, not long after my brother’s death. That was damn near almost thirty-five years ago.
“I need a place to stay.”
The room falls silent again and he takes a long drink. “You mean you’re not living a perfect life with Rose and that boy of yours? I can’t imagine what you’ve done now to fuck that up.” The sarcasm is thick and I fight hard not to get angry. One sarcastic remark back and I’m out on the street.
“We’ve hit a rough patch, but things will work out. We just need space.”
He points at my face. “She do that to you? She give you that black eye?”
“That’s another long story. Rose had nothing to do with it. I know you and I don’t have the best relationship. It’ll be like I’m not even here. I’ve been busy with work and things. I just…” I rake my hand through my hair. I hate asking for help, especially from someone who can’t stand breathing the same air as me. “I just need your help, Dad.”
He looks up at me, making eye contact for the first time. “Just like Sammy needed your help?”
Here it comes. It usually isn’t this quick to come up in conversation, but he’s straight and to the point. “I helped him, Dad. I called the ambulance. I held him in my arms. I was right there.”
“Where were you when he was in the street? Where were you when the car barreled right over him and kept on going? You should’ve been watching him!” He slams his hands down on the table, rattling the tea pitcher. It’s the same line of questioning he asks me every time I’m in his presence and I still am not used to it. I feel the tears well up in the corners of my eyes. It’s something I’ve never gotten over and something I rarely talk about with anyone, not even Rose.
I know my goal was to not fight with him. After all, I’m here in his kitchen because I need his help, but I can’t stand this. I can’t help but stand up for myself. “I was ten years old. He was eight. Where were you? Why would you and Ma leave us alone?” I’ve never asked him that, though I’ve always wanted to. “That’s a shit load of responsibility for a kid.” I glare at him and we both keep eye contact for several seconds before he breaks it.
Standing up, he looks out of the window above the sink. At least it got him to think, though I’m almost certain he won’t let me stay here now.
“It shouldn’t have been Sammy,” he mutters. What he really means is that it should have been me. He’s said that before. “Take this from someone who has been through it, Nathan. Fix your marriage. I haven’t seen your mother since she left that day and it still hurts just as bad now as it did when she walked out that front door.”
I shift my weight in the kitchen chair and it creaks beneath me. “I know, Dad. I haven’t seen her since then either.”
“You’re messing up your marriage just like you messed mine up. She couldn’t handle Sammy’s death. She always hated when I’d blame you. We’d fight for days because she stuck up for you, Nathan. She left because she grew to despise me for it all. And now
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