Just Don't Die

Dad

Blaine pulled his truck into his driveway, acutely aware that the rum was affecting his seventeen-year-old, alcohol-naive body a lot more than he had anticipated. He probably shouldn't have had that much and drove. How much would that suck to get a DUI or, worse, die in a car accident? He was grateful his parents were still at work, which allowed him a little more time to prepare himself. Hopefully, he wouldn't bawl like a baby, but he wasn't confident about that. He walked in the door to the overwhelming nostalgia he had felt this morning but with slightly less nausea.

He walked into the living room and noticed the flashing light on the message machine. He pushed the button to hear the automated message from his school informing his parents he had missed one or more classes today. Blaine smiled as he deleted the message and thought about how nice it might be not to have a cell phone for a few years.

When he walked into his room, he could not believe he lived like this. The Army and his wife had ingrained tidiness into his everyday life, and he felt a compulsive need to clean before he could do anything else. He was still vacuuming when his mom walked in with a look of complete disbelief.

"What are you doing?" Jess asked.

"Just cleaning up a little," he replied over the vacuum, feeling his eyes well up again.

"Why?" She asked, still obviously in shock.

"Just figured it was time," he said, finally making eye contact. He turned the vacuum off, walked over as calmly as he could manage, and hugged her with everything he had.

"What's wrong, Blaine?" She asked as she returned his hug, genuine concern in her voice.

"I had a really weird day, and I just really missed you for some reason," he sobbed through his tears.

"Tell me what happened," she said, slowly patting his back.

"Really, it wasn't anything in particular. I just missed you," he spoke clearly, finally composing himself. He released her, sniffing his nose and reaching for the vacuum again.

"Well, let me know," she said, "dinner will be ready in a half hour. Dad will be home late again."

"OK, I'll be done here shortly." He said as he started the vacuum.

It wasn't as bad as he had planned. He hadn't been sure he would be capable of speaking at all because his eyes would water every time he thought about how much he missed her. As long as he could hold it together when he saw his dad, he could start to enjoy this dream, heaven, delusion, or alternate reality, whatever it was.

By the time he took his first bite of dinner, Blaine was convinced his memories had betrayed him. He had remembered his mom's cooking as good, but this was beyond his memories. Chicken fried steak with homemade gravy and rolls had never tasted this good.

"This is the best, mom. It really is. Thank you for dinner."

"You're welcome," she stammered, "since when are you so polite?"

"I'm just trying to be a little better, mom. I feel like I haven't shown you as much appreciation as I should, and I want to change that." He said, just as he had practiced several times in his mind. He anticipated this line of questioning because he knew he intended to change things, and that would start with how he acted as a teenager.

The light through the windows flitted through the blinds in the dining room, accompanied by the sound of crunching gravel, made Blaine and his mom look up from their dinner.

"He's early," his mom said, looking at the clock on the oven.

Blaine focused his attention on his plate. He figured this might be harder than it was with his mom. In his last life, he at least knew his mom was on her way out. His dad, on the other hand, just never came home.

Gabriel Bronswick walked in the door with a slouch and a tool bag full of electrical equipment. He was six foot tall, but years of overtime had taken a toll on his stature and hairline. He used to have a full head of light brown hair, but now a ring of hair sprinkled with gray was all that was left. He compensated for his hair loss with a bushy, overgrown mustache.

Blaine was shocked at how tired his father looked. He didn't remember that or how thin he was. It took absolutely every ounce of his mental fortitude not to run, tackle him with a hug, and cry his eyes out on his shoulder. Instead, Blaine rehearsed his nonchalant greeting once more in his head. Before he got a chance to say anything, his mom threw a wrench in his plans with her familiar dry wit.

"Gabe, just to let you know, our son is on drugs," she said while filling a plate with food and setting it on the table.

"Oh yeah, what kind?" He responded without a pause, obviously used to his wife's humor.

"I'm not sure, but he cleaned his room, and he's been unreasonably polite. I say we get a pee test for him in the morning."

"Seriously? You cleaned your room?" He asked, pausing as he looked over to Blaine.

"Just turning over a new leaf, I suppose," Blaine said, his voice cracking due to his age and the fact that he was on the verge of tears.

"Yep, sounds like cocaine," Gabe laughed.

"How was your day?" Blaine said, trying not to sound as rehearsed as it was.

"See," his mom said, winking at Blaine, "drugs."

"Same thing, different day," his dad said, taking a seat at the table while raising an eyebrow towards Blaine.

Gabe had worked as an electrician since he graduated high school. He was intuitive with electricity and circuits, making his job second nature. He had secretly saved enough money through the years that when he died, his family was better off than when he was alive. Blaine never understood how someone could save that much money when his family could have used it so readily. They weren't poor, but they had money troubles fairly often. Blaine knew this from his memories only through the fights he'd overheard between his parents. It was confirmed later in his life when his mother told him about the savings she discovered. She had used the money to pay off all her debts and then went to Europe around the same time Blaine shipped off to Basic Training. Blaine didn't hold it against her. He knew that he was using the Army as a way to escape the grief, the same as his mom used Europe.

"Are you working this weekend?" Blaine asked his dad. Blaine was searching for a way to talk his dad into not going to work on the day of the accident. He knew just asking him to stay home from work wouldn't make sense, so he had decided that he would spend time with him while he could, then find a way to either talk him into doing something different that day or go with him.

He had gone to the spot where his dad had been electrocuted days after the accident to try to figure out why, but he only left with more questions. His dad had always been so careful. He never figured out why the power had not been cut when he tried to change the breaker.

"Just Saturday. Why?" Gabe said, pausing in between bites of roll.

"Mind if I tag along?"

"Excuse my surprise, but you have never once shown any interest in my job," Gabe said, still holding the roll. Then he smiled, "Is this still the drugs talking?"

"Yeah, it's the drugs, Dad. What time are we leaving?"

"About nine or so," he said, returning to his food while watching Blaine out of the corner of his eye, "but don't expect me to wake you up."

Blaine basked in the euphoria he felt from having his family whole once again. He would do whatever it took to maintain this family. All he could do now was hope and pray that he didn't wake up in his old life.