Henriad (History Plays, Book 5)

11: pay the debt i never promised

Harry

"I hate him! I do hope he fucking dies, fucking prick," I'm hitting a punching bag. Ned and Oddcastle are being concerned.
"He ruined everything. I hate him." I'm sobbing and leaning against the bag.
"Now, now, Harry, your dad's sick and you're a whirlwind most days. You know you try him," Oddcastle says.
"And you're a drunk most days," I snarl.
"Yes, that's true, but it remains true you're a force of nature," he says.
"I'm sorry," Ned says, "He shouldn't have ruined your notes and stuff."
"He went through my entire room! What am I supposed to do? Go fix all of it? Arg---" I hit the punching bag again.
"No, that's the point boy, I think you're not," Oddcastle says, "Look---Harry, think of it like this. If your teacher changes her mind and says nobody has to do an essay because there isn't time she's decided, what do you do? Go and do it anyway?"
"Yeah?" I say, frowning, "I might as well, it's supposed to be in the curriculum—"
"I think I know where you're going, let me---Harry, look, Thomas said he didn't want you at hockey anymore, so you're not going, free time, you don't have to do it, he's cleared you of the obligation, right?" Ned says.
"Yes," I frown at them.
"So your dad has done the same thing. He's said he doesn't want your help and if he's said half what you said he did, he doesn't deserve it so—don't help him," Oddcastle says.
"But---"
"No, buts, he said go so go on, do whatever just quit helping, he says he's got it," Ned says.
"And do what instead—?---I want to help him I want –It'll all be mine someday I might as well—,"
"Not today though. Today is yours. You're sixteen years old, go on a date, have fun," Oddcastle says, "Do whatever you---clever young people do with your time. He's given you leave to."
"That's true," I say, quietly, frightened by the void in my brain that is what I actually want to do. What do I want? Me? what would I be doing tonight if my mother were alive and my father weren't dying?
"Yeah, he's told you he doesn't want your help so don't give it to him. He doesn't deserve you then," Ned says, kind of quietly, "Let's just---try to relax. Have fun."
"Yeah. Why don't you two go see a movie or play chess or go for a drive or---stop looking at me like that you two. I'm an old drunk how am I to know what clever successful young people do with their time?" Oddcastle sighs.
"I'm a teenager, why aren't people inviting me to wild parties and offering me drugs?" I ask, holding the punching bag still. "If movies are to be believed I should be getting invites to wild parties right and left and people offering me free drugs."
"Okay, not to bring up a sore subject, but your dad runs drugs and then the drunkard over there sells them it's not like you don't have access to drugs for free," Ned says.
"So, fuck you--- also can we bring it back down a notch or ten?" Oddcastle says, "Who said anything about drugs?"
"No, I don't want our drugs that I make money from. I want other people to give me drugs for free," I say, "I'm not allowed to be me, apparently. I want to be just anyone. Where are all the parties and things normal teenagers experience?"
"I can find you a party if that's what you want, and we've got enough clothes and things in my trunk to make you unrecognizable, it goes without saying we've got fake IDs," Ned says.
"Excellent, we're doing it---I'll color my hair darker, glasses, a change of clothes and whatever accent I choose, no one need recognize me this is what teenagers get up to so let's do it—"
"So, no, back up, no—"
"Shut up," both of us, in unison.
"No, it is not at all what teenagers get up to. Teenagers get drunk in their dad's basements and occasionally trash someone's house; they don't do whatever the fuck you're planning. As the adult I'm going to very grudgingly offer up my own medicinal alcohol if you're of the mind to get drunk and be stupid and you do it here, not driving anywhere," Oddcastle says, choking on his drink.
"Fuck that, we're doing this," I say, "Ned, we've got to pick a club my father's men don't deal at—"
"The Heartbeat, gay bar off of 20," Ned says, "Your dad's people don't frequent it for homophobic reasons which means we'll be quite alone—"
"I like none of this---holy fuck I'm about to follow you shitheads to a gay bar," Oddcastle is having some sort of crisis. I don't care.
"We won't drive after we drink; we'll get a car," I say, punching the bag one more time.
"Cool, let's go," Ned says, hopping up.
"You don't drink," I mean I don't drink either, but, you know, I will. He's going to be a man of the cloth he's not supposed to drink.
"I'm not drinking per say. I'm doing research to understand the minds and motivations of sinners, it's fine," Ned says, "How am I supposed to council people if I've not had their experiences?"
"That—not— I don't think that's how it works."
"Shut up Oddcastle," in unison, again.
"Midnight, I'm figuring out where the fuck this is and looking for you, and you're not leaving in your cars," Oddcastle compromises.
"Fair," I say, holding up my keys before tossing them in my locker. I have another set, "We'll get a taxi there and then back---I don't have a home anymore."
"You do—You're coming home with me," Ned says, locking up his car keys as well.
"Call me if you get into trouble," Oddcastle says.
"You've been too drunk to drive since noon—make that last Christmas," I say, picking up my jacket, "Come on Ned, let's get dressed."
"This is going to be fun!" Ned bounces up.
"Let's go with diverting," I'd like to forget my problems at the very least.