Let's See How This Goes

Chapter 5

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Alex yells at my dad.

"I don't know but whatever it is it isn't as fucked up as you!" My dad shouts back.

That's when Alex hit his tipping point. He started pushing my father around and throwing physical things, terrible words, and a deep mood of anger and fear. His throws of physical objects would sometimes hit his target (my father), but when they wouldn't because his anger had thrown off his accuracy, they would knock down or break other objects in our living room. His throws of inanimate things would always damage my father and the rest of us.

My father knew that Alex was now old enough to be in his prime of his physical abilities and strength. He also knew that his (himself's) years of physical decay had been going on for long enough that his physical ability was now beneath Alex's level. I guess that convinced him that his next decision was a justified one.

He picked up the phone and started dialing. None of us could even imagine who he was calling.

"Yes 911? I am calling about my son Alex Darren," he said in a surprisingly calm voice.

"Yes well I guess we got in a bit of an argument and he couldn't handle it. This led him to damage my property and myself," he said while looking at a couple of bruising over cuts on his forearm.

Alex had stopped throwing things and calmed down by now. His face only held a look of disbelief. We could tell because we had the same look.

We wanted to scream at my father that this was stupid and that he can't do this. The fact that he was on the phone with the police and our shock were the only two things that kept us from doing this though.

My father looked like he had just began a deep and possibly troubling thought before saying, "You know, never mind. I don't think having an officer come by will be necessary."

"Oh really? I'm pretty sure I can decline police assistance," he says after a pause that I believe was the person on the other line talking.

There was a longer pause before he said, "Damn it fine. We'll be waiting," and he hung up directly after. He then sat down with us at the silent kitchen table.

We sat there, very quiet, for about ten minutes, though it seemed like more than an hour. This silence only ended after we heard a car door slam shut. The sound of our doorbell being rung followed less than ten seconds later.

My younger brother and I immediately scattered. He took to our bedroom and I went to the bathroom. I felt like I was going to get sick.

The next hour felt like a dream - or more of a nightmare. I sat hovering over the toilet wretching, though nothing came up. I had eaten lunch 6 or more hours before, but none us had even touched our dinner before the ordeal had started.

In the end I had vomited a few times. There wasn't much that came up, but it still made me feel terrible. Though this only happened after I calmed down enough to hear the cop say, "Mike Darren, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent..." My father had just been taken under arrest.

I knew I had to get out of there. The whole house felt like it was sucking the air from all the rooms, but not giving any of it back. I was getting dizzy as my feet clumsily fell down the stairs down the stairs and opened my front door.

When I got outside I started into a dead sprint. I sprinted around my entire neighborhood, just under a mile, and ended up in the park where I sat down, and later laid down gasping for air. I wasn't breathing so hard from my run though. I was still in disbelief.

Everything again seemed to form a disastrous dream. I sat there for what seemed like hours before noticing that little droplets of moisture were falling from the corners of my eyes. I would usually tell myself to suck it up, but I just didn't have the strength then to do so.

So there I was crying, and melancholy to my core, in a park, for the rest of the night.

-----

I walked into first period just as I would have on any other day, aside from my slightly disheveled hair and tired eyes. My friends knew something was up. They asked, and I answered with exactly what happened, "My brother's car wouldn't start this morning."

They didn't need to know. It seemed wrong to tell people your problems. I didn't want sympathy. I had never been a giver of it (unless I saw that someone was in a truly terrible situation), and I didn't want to be on the receiving end of it either.

"Really?" Emily asked.

"Yea his starter wore out. Had to get it towed up to my uncle's repair shop," I answered.

"That sucks. How'd you get here?" Alexis asked.

"My uncle dropped us off at 72nd and we walked the rest of the way," I replied.

"Huh. Sorry," Emily said.

"Nah it's not like it's your fault," I respond before adding, "Everybody, everybody, let's get into it, get stupid. Get it started, get it started, get it started. Let's get it started, ha, let's get it started in here," I began to sing as I erotically twerked on the desk.

"Detentions! Teacher! Detentions!" Alexis yelled.

"I don't get paid enough to deal with any of your stupid problems," he said without looking up.

"Amazing," she replied, though the teacher didn't hear because of the bell. Class followed .

-----

Today's lunch was a bowl of pasta, a bag of apple slices, and a large chocolate chip cookie - courtesies of Fazoli's. It looked amazing. Too bad I couldn't have hot lunch that day. "We need to save money for your brother. He's going to college next year," my mother always says. I guess I understand.

I plopped my brown paper bag on the plastic tabletop. Alexis set hers down next to mine.

I hadn't eaten breakfast that morning, nor dinner last night. I should've been hungry, but simply wasn't. The look of food made me think of how we almost had the dinner, but then didn't because of the situation that underwent.

I said I was using the restroom, got up from the table, and walked up the stairs. I just needed a break for awhile.

I went over into a stall and began to wretch. Every time I stopped I would think about how I'd have to go back home after school. Then I would start again.

After the cycle had gone through a few times, I just sat down with my back to the wall of the stall. My head was still spinning.

"Why me? Seriously, why do I have to have problems like these? Why does everyone else get to go through their lives without problems like these?" I thought to myself.

"What's the point anymore? What am I dealing with these problems for?" my mind further thought.

I sat there in a long silence. My thoughts were quiet. I couldn't say a word. My emotions even seemed to cease for a time. It seemed like every part of me recessed into the deepest void that they could and did their own work, but not telling me what it was or what it might show me.

That's when I got up and absent-mindedly walked out of the restroom, down the hall, out the doors, into the parking lot and off onto 72nd street. I had no idea what I was doing. I just knew I had to go somewhere. Some unknown place that might make things make sense.

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Author's Note:

Yes, yes. I know this is shorter than the last one. This is being posted within a day or two of the last so I would consider yourself lucky, actually.

Well I took another walk today. And with that the creative part of me decided to write. And I put a great deal of thought and emotion into this one.

Ideas and comments are accepted as always, just try and make them help me as a writer and help my story.

I'm tired. Night!