Senior Year (BoyxBoy)

4 | Are Broken Homes Where Broken People Live?

Sky Turner

As I stepped out of Ren's car, I couldn't help but think of a gray bubble enveloping my house, slowly fading the colors around it to a dull and gloomy state. I crossed its horizon, losing the colors on me as it faded until I was as gray as the inside of the bubble.

Upon entering the house, I found my mom wrapped in a blanket, reclining on the sofa with a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

A half-empty bottle sat on the table beside her, with another bottle emptied. "Hey, how was your day?" she asked, her words slurred and her voice husky, indicating that she had been yelling. I could tell by her eyes constantly trying to fix on me and her face dropping that she was tipsy.

I remember when I first began to observe their love crumbling; it was initially subtle, but I eventually picked up on it. They stopped exchanging kisses, opting for hugs instead. Then, the hugs dwindled into hurtful comments and eventually escalated into open arguments.

"Fine, just schoolwork and studying," I replied. A bit of anger could be heard in my voice.

Is she serious? I thought. Was she going to pull Dad's routine - sitting on the couch and drinking until she was drunk enough to forget her problems? I couldn't believe it. I wanted to yell at her and tell her to stop drinking, saying that it wouldn't fix any of their problems. If she or Dad cared about us, they would try to repair their relationship.

In her inebriated state, Mom chuckles and says, "I made food. I saved a plate for you." 

She pours herself another glass of wine. With furrowed brows, I storm over to her on the couch, snatching the glass of wine away before she could take a sip. "I think you've had enough," I argue, grabbing both wine bottles.

She looked as if she was about to scold me, but her drunken self couldn't compose a word or even a thought. "Rude" was the only word she could muster.

After throwing the bottles away, I return to the living room to remove my shoes. I removed them and scanned the shoe rack. I noticed my dad's missing shoes. Glancing at the key holder, I realized his keys were gone, too.

From her hoarse voice to the missing items, I was positive another argument had ensued. It managed to anger me more because I knew if they got into an argument, they weren't subtle about it and that my little brother and sister heard and witnessed it all.

"How long has Dad been gone?" I asked. 

Mom shrugged. From her body language, she didn't seem too bothered. 

"He left a while ago," she replied. Her tone didn't feel as if she cared all that much.

My mood darkened further, and my gray world shifted to a darker shade of gray.

"You need to get some water and rest," I demanded.

"I will, I will." She waves me off. "After this chapter,"

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Whatever," I said, grabbing my backpack.

I hurriedly made my way up the stairs before breaking down in front of my mom. Standing at the top step, I took a deep breath. As I exhaled, the tears I held back streamed down my cheeks.

What I would give for this to be a dream. For my dad to wake me up and comfort me from the nightmare, for him and my mom to be happy, and for me to have nothing to worry about.

Laughter emanated from my sister's room, prompting me to wipe away my tears and peek inside. My younger brother, Kaylen, was engrossed in a game of make-believe with my little sister, Destinee, who was thoroughly enjoying the pretend playset I brought for her.