Colors of Paris ◇ Elijah Stevenson

Chapter Thirty Six

A house is like a family. It's foundation strong at first. It being such a pretty sight.  The wonderful beauty of the exterior as every brick and stone holds in place. Though over time, maybe decades and in some cases centuries a foundation falls apart. Whoever sees and watches afar just observes but when going in for the first time the walls are caved... and it's best to walk alone. I was young when I learned the significance of a foundation. My dad was teaching me something about the ceilings alignment though I wasn't paying attention as my sister was piecing back-and-forth of the living room entrance.

She was going to some dinner date and her arm pits already had stains from her over thinking and over analyzing the situations of the night.

That night I found out without any barriers or any boundaries of a foundation the house can fall part. The pillars become the moldy and outdated. The smells become unbearable and to much to handle.

When my sister finally left, my father already had his sixth beer in his hand and his baggy in the other. When my sister came back all the pack was gone and his baggy had been empty of its contents.

I tried to fall asleep but my ten year old self heard what happened. What was going on and what he did to her.

After that night my sister, Joanne, whose the closest out of us all and oldest became distant, locking herself in her room days on end. Not coming out to even eat with us in the dining room. We always ate as a family until she started her time. Then one by one each of us will go our separate ways until the last one sitting at the dinner table was my mother.

My mother never noticed the signs. She never saw her daughter crying or her son getting high. She never saw her children because that summer she left us making another pillar broken and the foundation becoming weaker.

One memory I will never forget from her was at my kindergarten graduation. She was the only one that came there. My other two siblings weren't  even born yet, not even a twinkle of our mothers eyes just yet. Her make up was extraordinary. Her thin white smile as she took me in her arms and hugged me. Her tight hug as she embraced me with the fact she was proud of me. She told me I could do anything and to conquer anyone or anything in my life.

I just never knew that someone was her passing. After mom had passed my father became even worse. Barging in at late hours with other women. His drinking constantly drove us to bankrupt and his breath reeked from a mile away. It didn't stop him from my knowledge. It wouldn't  have stopped if I hadn't killed him.

The only person that surely got what our home life was like was my Uncle Kenny. He was a smart mouth and I probably learned half of my attitude from him alone.  One day I missed the bus and I called my pops saying I needed a ride. He didn't care, could you imagine that? He said walk home it's only twelve miles, do it because if you are late to dinner you aint eating anything. I called my Uncle and that night he saw a different side of his brother. The side we all saw and hated. The side that was a fake show until caught.

My uncle wanted my father to go to rehab several times.  Yet in my father's faith he didn't. I really wish he did. The drinking got worse. The substance abuse became larger and when I was in middle school my teacher saw the bruises. My English teacher who saw me sneak in a flask but only gave me a lecture and not even a warning.

During that middle school graduation my teacher said one thing. "You never need a family member to sell his soul to something that isn't worth it. Remember, kid , you don't need someone who hasn't and will never be there for you except for his own expense."

I really wish I listened to that because last time I ever heard of him was a week before his passing. Cancer. Could you really believe it? The good die hard-and-fast not easily and unpainfully to those who don't deserve it. It's treacherous.