Looking After You

(20) Ages: 18 & 15

Ages: 18 & 15

One year ago, a week after his high school graduation, James began working as a busboy at ‘Kicken Chicken’. It was a local restaurant in the middle of town beside an old run down strip mall. The pay was a quarter more than minimum wage and every penny earned went towards a shred of independence. James never said what the money was for and his parents never asked but it was understood that soon that money would fund his way out. After a three hour dinner rush, the restaurant was finally peaceful. There were only two customers inside and they both had just ordered some sodas and a side of fries.

“You should go home, kid. You look like shit.” Roger, the owner of the restaurant, instructed James as he continued wiping down the counter.

James pushed himself off the counter and rubbed a hand down his face. It had turned out to be the longest day James could remember ever experiencing. He spent four hours in the morning at the community college which included two midterms and then he got called to work for an eight-hour shift. Suffice it to say, he felt like shit. “No, that’s okay. I can’t leave without helping you clean up.”

“What I meant to say was, get home or I’m firing your ass.”

James chuckled at his boss’ dry humor. It was something he had become accustomed to. Roger struggled with the decision of whether to hire James when he first asked for the job. The restaurant had been open for ten years and out of the fifty teenagers he ever hired, not one stuck around long enough for dust to settle. But he took a chance on James and a year had passed. Roger was never one to encourage or compliment, by any means, but there were moments; a glint in his eye or a twitch of his mouth and James could see just how appreciative his boss was. “You’re sure?” James asked once more while untying his apron.

Roger pointed a finger at him. “Don’t make me do it.”

James laughed once more with his hands up in surrender. “Ok, ok, I’m leaving.” He waved once before exiting the restaurant. Breathing in the fresh air after hours of being cooped up inside was exhilarating. The loud motor of his old Chevy sputtering down the highway wasn’t even enough noise to keep James conscious. He quickly flipped on his radio and turned the volume up loud. His favorite rock band blaring in the car was sure to keep him awake for the next ten minutes. He couldn’t remember the last time he changed out CD’s but if he thought about it long enough, he knew exactly when. The same CD had been playing in his truck since his seventeenth birthday.

Killing the engine when he pulled up in his driveway, he grudgingly made the few steps into his house. He forced a small smile for the sake of his mother who was sitting on the living room couch. Making sure his mother didn’t think he was exhausted when he came home at night was his first priority. And while exhausted may have been the perfect word to use, he didn’t need her worrying over him.

“You look exhausted,” Denise pointed out in concern as James stepped into the living room.

He chuckled softly, partly because he felt she was reading his mind and partly because he was hoping it would calm her nerves. “I’m fine. Promise.” He leaned forward and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Where’s dad?”

Denise placed a hand lovingly beneath her son's chin before pointing behind her. “Back porch.”

He followed her directions out onto the back porch and found his dad sitting in one of the patio chairs with two cold beers sitting beside him. Seeing his father with a beer or two wasn’t very surprising. Richard drank occasionally (after all, he did name his son after a brand of Irish whiskey) and everyone close knew it but they also knew how responsible he was. Responsibility always won any argument when it came to Richard because everyone knew him to do the right thing, even when it wasn’t easy. Sometimes doing the right thing is so difficult that days like today deserve nothing less than a cold beer and a sky full of stars. “Hey, dad.”