The car crawled up his driveway slowly, as it the driveway small as it is and almost completely full with an extra car that hadn't been there that morning. Surprise! Dr. Carl is home for the weekend. Zack doesn't appear to be bothered by this information as he somehow parks without injuring any of the other vehicles. I've never understood why they were still friends despite how differently their mom treats them.
Why isn't Carl jealous? The only reason I can think of is weed. But weed can't keep people from hating each other... Can it?
Anyway, Zack escaped the confines of the car and strode up to his house with me trailing behind him. He unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Sock-covered feet run toward us from across the house.
"Zack, you're home! Hey, Darcy, glad to see you too." He said happily. Of all the people in the world, I'd want Mr. Livingston to be my dad. He looks like Carl but with long, spiky hair. It's hard to imagine a man of forty-something with long, spiky hair, so just picture him looking sort of like David Tennant. Other than that he was a jumble of brown eyes and classic features, with just enough lines on his face to let you know how sad he once was.
"So, how was school?" He asked us.
"Good." Zack replied.
"Same as always, huh? Oh well. There's only so much you can expect from high school." I nod in agreement. "Whelp, I'll leave you two alone now. I have some soda in the fridge, and if you try anything funny, just know that Carl is here."
"That I am!" Carl yelled from the floor above.
"Wait, you're leaving?" I ask. He walked towards the door and put his shoes on.
"Yep."
"Where are you going?"
"Business meeting." He grabbed his keys off the hook, checked his pockets for his wallet and walked out the door.
"He has a date." Zack said nonchalantly before running up to his attic bedroom, with me scurrying behind him. Zack stuck his head out of the window and watched his father back out of the driveway before slamming it shut and facing me.
"So what happened?"
"What?"
"You looked like the fucking embodiment of pissed walking out that house, don't make me do this shit again."
"Can we just smoke?"
"Do I really have to get you stoned to get you to tell me about your life?" I stuttered for a moment, wanting desperately to avoid reliving the fucking shit that I asked my mother to pile on top of me. The worst thing being that if the same thing happened to Zack, he would've told me the moment I asked.
Carl edged through the doorway and I turned to look at him. Zack's eyes remain intent on me.
"Uh...Dude, where's all my kush?" He asks. Zack extracted a roll of ten dollar bills from his pocket and chucked it towards his brother's bespectacled face.
"I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR YOUR SHIT, CARL."
"Did you seriously smoke all of that sh-"
"I don't have time for your shit, Carl." Carl mumbled many an obscenity as he walked back down the creaky steps to his bedroom. There's no way I can let Zack keep trying to stare into my soul.
"My mom told me she doesn't love my dad anymore." I survey Zack's reaction. Eyes wide, features communicating a mixture of shock and worry, it was an expression I never wanted to see on his face. He didn't bother to ask if I'm okay, he knows I'm not. Come to think of it, there's no way he is, either.
No matter how insufferable my mother is, we had both always thought my parent's marriage was one thing we'd never have to see fall apart. It occurs to both Zack and I that I have been doing nothing but staring into space, half worried and half unnecessarily traumatized. Zack hugged me in the most sincere way a human being can.
"Shouldn't we get to that paper?" I ask. Zack looked at me as if I was the craziest person he'd ever met.
"Your fucking paper can wait."
~
Red Moon-The Walkmen
