I stand to my full height and peer down at my father. “At least I have a job.”
He hisses. Takes a step back. “You think some after school minimum wage job makes you a man? You’re just a kid.”
He whirls around to face my mother and points an angry finger at her. I rush forward and grab his arm, yanking it back. “Get away from her. She’s more of a man than you are, Dad. She works her ass off and she keeps our bills paid. All you do is drink your life away.”
The slap is hard, quick, and painful. Right across my face.
I blink, unable to interpret for a second. My dad slapped me across the face. I guess that’s better than a punch.
“Get the fuck away from us,” I say, stepping between him and Mom.
“You telling me what to do?” There’s an angry bulging vein in his forehead.
I nod once.
“You can’t tell me what to do, son!”
I hold up my hand and cut off whatever tirade he’s about to go on. “I can. You know why? Because I’m sober. I’m responsible. I’m helping Mom keep our house afloat, keeping food on the table, keeping your precious cable TV connected. And you know what you are?” I say, my voice getting angrier by the moment. “You’re a fucking jobless drunk. You smell like garbage and body odor and you’re a complete waste of space. You call yourself a husband and father but you’re just a drain on the family. You’re not a man in any way. You’re an embarrassment.”
Dad looks like I’ve just slapped him across the face, maybe even worse than that, because I’m the one who got slapped and I’m not showing it. His eyes flit to me and Mom, who is shaking as she stands behind me. He swallows, and then turns around.
Mom and I stand in silence as we watch him grab his cell phone and car keys and then rush out the front door, letting it slam closed behind him. A moment later, his truck starts up and he drives away.
“Where do you think he’s going?” I ask.
Mom lowers her head and stares at the now burnt pancake on the stove. “I don’t know.”
*
I’m changing into my Magic Mark’s red polo shirt when Mom calls me. I grab my keys and flip off the light in my bedroom. As I predicted, today was another day of misery in homeroom class, only it got worse because I saw TJ walking with Clarissa in the hallway between two classes, despite my best efforts to avoid them. This day has been a complete nightmare and now I’m headed off to work, which I’m growing really sick of.
As I’m making my way out to the car, I answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Gavin.” Mom’s voice is weird. I stop on the front porch, my hand holding the key in the lock.
“Yeah?”
“Guess what?”
“We won the lottery?”
“Not quite, but close.”
I lift an eyebrow. “You sound happy.”
“Iamhappy. Your dad just called me. He got his roofing job back.”
“He didwhat?”
Mom laughs. “Can you believe it? That’s where he went this morning when he left. He went straight back to his boss and begged for his job back. And guess what? His boss agreed to rehire him but only if he attends AA meetings.”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I say.
“Gavin! Language!” Mom chastises. Then she laughs again. “He just called me and said he spent the day working. He told me he’s not too happy about the AA thing but he’s going to at least try it.”
“Wow… I … don’t know what to say.” This is surreal. Dad actually got his job back. He agreed to attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Is this real life?
“I know, honey. I feel such a huge relief. Maybe Dad can get the help he needs, you know?”
