All the lights are on when I open the door, and Rose is moving between rooms, yelling expletives at my father, while grabbing her purse, her keys, and her fur jacket.
“You’re miserable, and you’re a drunk, Harvey. Get the fuck over yourself. Try taking a fucking shower!” she screams before heading out toward the door. Judging by the tight red dress she’s wearing and the four-inch-high heeled shoes, I’m guessing she won't be back tonight.
There’s a thud and another curse before my father stumbles out of his office, his pants around his ankles, his button-up white shirt hanging open. It looks like he came from work and immediately started on a bender. His face is flushed, his nose is almost purple, and his normally coiffed hair is hanging in front of his eyes.
“Fuck you, whore! I don’t need you. Go mooch off the Bradleys. Wait till his wife hears about what a cunt he is!”
The door slams shut, and I hear the engine on Rose’s flashy sports car start up. I’m frozen by the landing, not wanting to ignore my father but also not in a hurry for him to see me. Thankfully, he manages to right himself and walks back into his office. I can hear the tinkling of his crystal glass decanter. Disgust and shame roll through my stomach at how he continues to conduct himself. Shaking my head, I jog up the stairs to my room and collapse on the bed. Feeling exhausted, I pull my phone from my pocket and see a missed call and a missed text message, both from Winnie. My heart tightens in my chest with a painful pinch.
WINNIE: I made it home. Thanks for the Ferris wheel ride
Her sweetness is a punch to the gut. With the drama waiting for me the minute I opened the door, I’d forgotten I asked her to call and let me know she made it home. I had been so adamant that she did, so I would know she’s safe. My stomach drops and turns sour. The best night I’ve ever had in my life, and all it takes is coming home to remember who I am and where I come from. I should never get Winnie involved in my life. I never want her to see how my family is. Not when she’s so perfect. I drop the phone on my bed, and I let out a ragged breath. I can’t message her back. It's better if I shut the door now on anything that could bring me closer to Winnie. I don’t deserve something good like her.
My light flicks on, and my blanket is torn from me. My body immediately snaps awake, realizing I fell asleep when I only meant to rest before checking on my father.
“Wake the fuck up,” Declan demands, before rolling me off the bed.
“What the hell!” I shout at him, springing to my feet, ready to fight him if I have to. Declan may be older, but he’s smaller than me, which is why he only ever starts shit when he has an advantage.
“Your dad passed out in the hallway. He’s fucking lying in his own piss and puke again,” Declan seethes, before turning and heading out of my room toward the staircase.
My heart hammers in my chest, and I can feel my skin turning clammy. “How long?”
Declan glares at me over his shoulder. “How the fuck should I know? I came home to grab my clubs for tomorrow, and Marvin came to tell me.”
I rush past him to the hallway where my father’s office branches off to his wing of the house with his bedroom. Marvin is there, his brow furrowed.
“I told Declan not to wake you. Cora and I can take care of him.” Marvin has been with my father for years, both as his assistant and now, most recently, as his caretaker. Cora is our housekeeper and has been with my family since before I was born. While they are both good at their jobs, they are in no shape to lug around my father’s body.
“I got it, Marvin,” I tell him, and he clamps his hand over my shoulder in a manner meant to be comforting, but all I feel is rage. My eyes swing to my half-brother.
“He’s your father, too.”
Declan’s eyes, the same color as mine and our father’s, meet mine, and I see the hatred in them. “He’s a waste of space, and as soon as I get my inheritance, I’ll never have to see him again.”
With that, he turns on his heel and heads toward the front of the house. The door bangs shut behind him as he goes, and the pit of loneliness in my stomach grows.
“Let’s just get him up,” I tell Marvin, whose face is grim as he follows me.
Sure enough, dear old dad is passed out face down. At least his head is turned to the side out of his puke, so he isn’t in danger of aspirating. His pants are gone, and he’s wearing only his dark socks and button-up shirt.
“Well, he didn’t drop his glass,” I mumble, noticing the death grip my father’s hand has on his favorite whiskey glass.
Now that I’m closer, the smell is wafting down the hall, and I have to suck in a deep breath and hold it just to keep myself from gagging. Turning to Marvin, I nod at the cell phone in his hand. “Call and wake Cora up. Tell her I’m sorry, but we have to get the carpets cleaned up.”
Marvin grunts and mumbles under his breath that we should just get rid of all the carpet in the house, but he calls Cora anyway. I can hear the concern in the older woman’s voice and also when she says she’ll be here in fifteen minutes. They keep talking, but I’m already bending down, curling my arms under my father’s, and lifting him up. His head lolls forward, and he makes a noise between a gag and a snore. I hold him up while Marvin does his best to take off the man’s shirt without getting vomit on both of us. I keep my head averted, my stomach rolling from the sights and smells. Once my father is somewhat clean, Marvin takes one side, and I take the other, and we shuffle down the hallway toward his bedroom.
“Should we just drop him into bed? He can clean his damn self up tomorrow,” Marvin asks.
I shake my head, knowing how much of a foul mood that will put him in right as he wakes up. I’ve been on the receiving end of his bad moods too many times. “I’ll hold him up. You take off the rest of his clothes.”
Marvin nods, his jaw clenched and his lips pinched together. I manage to keep my father off the floor while Marvin gets his soiled clothes off, and then we stick him in the shower. Between the two of us, we get him cleaned off, dried, and into bed. Marvin is huffing, his hand holding his back when he steps away from the bed.
“You’re too good for this family, kid.” The older man shakes his head, clearly disappointed in his lifelong friend and employer.
The lights in the room seem dimmer, and the sound of the silence around us almost pulses with loneliness. It's just me and him. My father. The man who hasn’t done anything more for me since the day I was born, other than to provide me a place to live. We don’t have meaningful conversations. He’s never celebrated my accomplishments or even my birthday. I doubt he knows Iplay lacrosse or even who my friends are. Yet I know how many glasses of whiskey are too much. How his mood in the mornings corresponds to how long I need to stay out of his way. I also know which keys to hide on which cars when he has been mixing his vices and thinks he is invincible. Marvin is right. These people don't deserve to have me here cleaning up their messes. I don’t know why I stay, either. One more year and I can leave them all behind. I can stop giving up all the things that make me happy and start letting myself be more selfish with the things I want.
Chapter 3
