We All Fall Down

Chapter 25

John

Present

Today marks a very important day in my life. A pivotal moment where I took control of my own life almost seven years ago. It always comes with mixed feelings because it is also the day we buried my dad. I never really got to know him as more than the man who allowed my mother to destroy us. I remember only one conversation with him that carried any weight, and it was the day before I left on a trip with my friends. It was our last summer together, our last week of freedom before we all went our separate ways. I guess my dad recognized it as something special.

"I know I could have done better by you boys," he stood beside me as I shoved clothes into my duffle bag. I could smell his aftershave and the starch he used on his work shirts. I don't think he ever wore comfortable clothes. I didn't acknowledge his words when he paused. He tucked his hands in his pockets and continued. "I tried very hard for a very long time. I just couldn't fix her."

Of course, it was about Mom. It was always about her. It could never be about anyone else. I clenched my jaw as I searched for my toothbrush and toothpaste that were buried in the mess on my bed. I avoided looking over at Ben's neatly tucked sheets, guilt flowing in and out in violent waves.

My dad rocked on his feet and cleared his throat, "Ben will be okay," he said as if reading my mind.

"Yeah, well, it won't be because of you...or her. He will be okay in spite of you." I roughly zipped my duffle, unsure whether or not I had everything I needed but desperately wanting away from the conversation.

I felt my dad still, the air stuffy in the dimly lit room. I finally looked up at him, my chest tightened as I took in how poorly he looked. "Will you be okay?" I asked. At the time I didn't know the whole truth, but I sensed something was off.

He offered a tight smile, his sad eyes moved from my duffle to my face. "I'll be fine. You go enjoy your summer," he placed a hand softly on my shoulder, "You earned it."

The phone rings and I groan, beginning to loathe the sound as it almost always comes when I'm not in the mood for her. Especially today, because while it marks a turn for me, it also holds the memory of our worst fight, the one that severed any chance at reconciliation. She keeps calling, though, as if she doesn't recall how awful it was. Like she didn't ruin everything.

I decided to tell Vic about that summer but have yet to find the right time. She is a little angry with me, I think. Her body language was stiff when she brought me in a plate of lunch earlier. She hates when I work through and likely annoyed that I'd done it yesterday as well. I think of my father and all the missed opportunities, all the times he chose work over us. I should do better, and I will. Because today is an important day. My reminder that life is too short.