Drowned Silence

Ego Cafe

Darrin had heard the coffeemaker brewing early that morning and had spent the entire time in the shower hoping that the sporadic popping sound would soon be replaced by the slam of the front door and the growl of the Mercedes-Benz Luxury Sedan as it drove out the driveway. While he pushed his gel-dipped fingers through his shaggy hair, he listened even harder still, hoping he might have missed something under the noise of the running water. But even as he finished dressing and pulled on his running jacket, pausing to check out his getup in the bathroom mirror, the popping had not stopped.

Darrin sighed and headed down the stairs, grabbing his backpack from his room and slinging it over his right shoulder. Maybe his mom had felt like a cup of coffee that morning. As Darrin descended the stairs, the shrill crinkle of rustled paper joined in the popping chorus, and he knew that his mom had probably left for work already. Darrin took a deep breath and turned the corner of the hallway into the kitchen. There was his dad, blazer hung neatly on the back of his chair, one steaming mug of black coffee in one raised hand, and the morning's newspaper spread out on the table before him. He looked up and managed an exaggerated grin as Darrin entered the room.

"Good morning," he cried to Darrin, who walked straight past his dad to the cupboard above the TV, pulled out a pack of strawberry Pop Tarts, threw down his backpack, put the pastries in the toaster, and grabbed the remote on the counter before his dad had finished speaking.

"Right," Darrin croaked in response as he started flipping through the channels. Morning talk shows and infomercials. Still, even a cheerful, plastic face on TV was better than the one at the table.

Darrin's dad cleared his throat and returned to his paper, taking a moment to slurp a sip of his coffee. In response, Darrin turned up the volume of the TV. If he ever learned to cook, that no-mess double-sided pancake frying pan would come in handy. He flipped up the lever on the toaster and took a mouthful of one hardly-warm-enough pastry. He was used to them tasting that way by now.

"Would you look at that...," his dad said loudly without looking up from his paper. "Another accident on 75th Street. Happened around 1 am, apparently. Funny we didn't hear it." He slurped another sip from his coffee mug. "If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, they—"

"—ought to put a stoplight there, I know, I know," Darrin finished for him. 'Perfect Pancakes,' huh? Shoving the first bite of the other Pop Tart into his mouth, Darrin wondered if it would really work. It was basically just two pans stuck together, after all—hardly the Godsend among pancake makers they made it out to be.

Darrin's dad took another slurp of his coffee and turned the page of his paper. "A drug bust at the house of some kid from Maxwell High? Honestly, what's wrong with kids these days? What kind of future will you guys be responsible for once in charge, eh?" He slurped his coffee again and looked up from his newspaper with a wry smile. "Any comments from a member of the generation in question?" his dad asked as he slurped another sip from his coffee.

Darrin shoved the rest of his Pop Tart into his mouth and turned to grab a glass out of the cupboard. "I'm not some whacked-out druggie, if that's what you're asking," he snapped as he walked past his dad to the refrigerator and poured himself some milk.

His dad sighed and stood up from the table, putting down his coffee mug briefly in order to fold the newspaper. "No, you're just some young man who couldn't care less about the world outside of his own little corner of it." He carried his mug over to the coffeemaker and poured himself another helping. He reached for the remote that Darrin had left on the counter and pointed it at the TV. "Like this, for example. Why are you watching garbage when you could turn on the news? We're at war now, you know. You might want to actually know something about it, seeing how you'll be 18 in two months."

Darrin slammed his glass into the kitchen sink and turned to grab his car keys from the rack inside the nearest cupboard door. "It's not like I'm going to be freaking drafted or anything, so will you just lay off me for once?! In two months I'll be out of your hair—can you hold out until then?!"

His dad slurped a sip from his freshly filled coffee mug. "Oh, so you're going to move out and pay bills before you even finish high school?"

"You bet I could! Apparently it would work better that way for the both of us!" Darrin yelled as he turned his back to his dad and opened the front door.

"Darrin?" his dad called before he could make it out the door.

"What?!" Darrin barked, turning around. His dad stood there, slurping coffee from the mug still in his right hand, Darrin's backpack held out in his left.

Darrin groaned from behind his flushing face and snatched the backpack from his dad's grasp.

"Don't forget to call us if you're going to be late after school again!" Darrin could hear his dad yell as he slammed the front door behind him.

Hurrying to start the ignition of his recently waxed Ford Explorer, Darrin couldn't believe his life. None of his friends' dads were like that. But just because his dad fancied himself a big-shot in the community, he thought his son should be a perfect model citizen—never mind that his son was a completely different person than he was. So what if Darrin was occupied with his own problems? There was no way anyone could be as perfect as Darrin's dad demanded.

Darrin forced himself to laugh a little as he pulled his car out onto the road. He wouldn't let his dad bother him for the rest of the day—that's what he would have wanted. Darrin couldn't wait to get to school and tell Hal and Pete about the girl he had met at the mall over the weekend. He and Jeremy had seen her at the same time and flipped a quarter to see who would approach her first. She'd given Darrin her cell number within 15 minutes of his turn—after she had completely ignored Jeremy. Darrin smiled at the memory of that conquest's victory.

He was still smiling when he ran the stop sign at 75th Street.