How gay- I mean how may I help you?

Unexpected Surprise

My dad died when I was nine, and he told me I shouldn't get in the middle of stuff, and stay out of the way. I guess that's why I'm a bystander.

The day my dad died I was nine years old. My dad and I were on our way to a cash a check at the bank. He was going on and on about how this check was going to change our lives- my life.

"You're going to be great son. No more fences for you."

Fences? What did that even mean? We were going to get rid of the fences around the backyard?

I never got to ask because- as my dad was looking over the check while we were walking to the bank- a man walked up with a gun and pointed it at my dad.

"Go! Call the police son!" He'd told me. But I didn't move, didn't even make a sound as the man beat my dad shitless before shooting him right between the eyes.

The whole time my dad was giving me this piteous look, of guilt and hope towards me. And I just watched. Never once did the thought cross my mind that my dad would actually die. I thought this was a little thing that happened and that it'd be over soon.

I believe my mom blames me for it, hell, I blame myself. It's why she can barely look at me when I walk into the room. Why she won't call me by my first name.

The thing that I really can't get down is why the man would beat my dad before killing him. Was it for fun? Did he think maybe I wouldn't do anything if my dad was getting hurt- that if he was finally dead I would snap out of my trance and start running?

I didn't even cry. I don't think I could. There was so much guilt it was like I taught myself how to not feel. I don't have any feelings over that situation, except for maybe anger.

This is what I was thinking about when I walked into my house to see multiple displaced people in it.

"Ma? What's going on?" She was going around the kitchen placing store bins of hot food around the counters and checking them. I've never seen the house so alive apart from when she brought Brunette around to drink and gush about Reagan and I.

"Honey didn't I tell you to take off work early today because we were inviting the new neighbor boy and his family over for dinner?" She was using the don't-fucking-test-me-right-now-in -front-of-company voice, along with a face that was saying 'Please'.

I held back a snort, but, neighbor boy?

I looked over all of the guests, all Puerto Rican. I cursed myself in my head.

"Sweetheart," something she never calls me, "How about you run upstairs and wash up and maybe put something more.... Appealing on?" She gave me a half smile as someone across the room did a cough snort.

I looked over and of course it was Jasper- surrounded by his buddies. On second thought, what fucking Puerto Rican is named Jasper. Fucking cute ass- He gave me a I-dare-you look before I turned away.

I shook my head and nodded at my mom before running up the stairs to 'wash up and maybe put something more appealing on'. I choose a nice button down shirt and dress pants before running downstairs while tucking in my shirt.

I walked straight over to my mom, "What the hell is this all about," I whispered.

She hushed me with wide eyes, "Don't speak like that. We need to be civil right now. And I thought maybe if we were nice to them you could maybe make some new friends," she whispered while eyeing Jasper, "Go be nice. He'll be a nice refreshment besides Troy." She almost puked while saying his name.

My mom has never liked any of my choices in- well now that I think about it- nothing. When I wanted to do baseball she cringed and begged me to do football; which I hate. And when I brought Trick and Troy over- "Finally" she'd said, then later "Never bring them back here again"- she despised them. And finally she's choosing for me. It's a terrible choice really.