Dear Stanley [Watty's 2019. Completed]

Sneaking out to the waterfall

Friday, June 11th

Dear Stanley,

One time when I was sneaking out to meet Breeze, I saw Dad drinking a bottle of something by the dining table. I was pretty sure Mom was asleep upstairs, it was around 3 in the morning.

I was confused and stayed completely still, wondering to see if he would get mad at me or even notice me. But he was too drunk.

"Stanley?" He slurred. "Is that you?"

I stepped out of the shadows of the staircase and made my way towards him. He was dressed in a nice flannel shirt and jeans, his beard shaven and his hair combed nicely. But his eyes were a bloodshot red and he had a sloppy smile on his face. He looked childish in a strange way.

"Stanley, I've missed you soooo much." He drawled, his words slurred.

"Dad. It's me." I stayed rooted to my spot, a few feet away from the staircase. I wanted to get out. I wanted to see Breeze. I didn't want to see Dad right now, drunk.

"Oh! Nicolas, my son, you've grown so much! When did this happen?" He took a gulp out of his drink. I could smell his stench all the way from here. He was overpowered in cologne mixed with alcohol.

"Dad. Put the bottle down. You need to go upstairs and sleep." I ordered.

Dad laughed drunkenly. "You look like Stanley. I wish I noticed you before, Nicolas. But it's so sad that I am going to be gone soon. You really are a great guy. Not as good as Stanley. But good enough."

I ignored the twinge in my chest. I didn't know what he meant when he said he was going to be gone soon. "Dad. You're going to stay right here. You have to go and sleep. Please Dad. Put the bottle down."

Dad suddenly got angry. His eyes cold and malicious from the white light in the kitchen that spread over him a little bit. "You sound like your mother. Disgusting. You need to sleep too Nicolas. I mean - look at you. You look like a zombie, a zombie I tell you! Stanley would've never looked like that!"

I curled my fist. I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself. This was Dad. Dad was on my side I had to remind myself. Dad wasn't like Mom, he was just drunk and that's why he was saying this stuff.

My eyes have gotten bloodshot from the recent stress of finding out the reason you were becoming difficult and different before your leaving was due to the drugs. I stay up all night, wondering about this and then I go to the waterfall. I haven't slept properly in forever. But I don't really want to.

I decided to leave Dad like he was and continued to walk out the door into the night air. As I trudged towards the waterfall, ignoring the heavy eye bags dragging my eye lids down, I remembered one time you forced me to cover up for you when you wanted to sneak out.

This was when Mom and Dad weren't the careless parents they are now. They used to be alert and watching out for us.

Mostly for you.

You told me you wanted to go out somewhere and that you had to do something very important.

You sounded very desperate, almost pleading for me to distract Mom and Dad while you were gone so they didn't notice your absence. I remember how weak you looked, how much weight you loss.

Jeezus Stanley. It was blatantly obvious that something was off about you now that I think about it. No one noticed though because to us, you were perfection. The idea of you doing some as bad as drugs seemed unfathomable.

So I covered for you. Of course I did, Stanley. I was eager to please you, eager to make you want to spend time with me like you used to.

I locked your bed room door and told Mom and Dad you were studying for a test while you sneaked out your window. They were content with that answer and continued sitting together on the couch watching a movie.

I wonder what would've happened if I said no. If I let Mom and Dad find out you snuck out.

Maybe it would lead to you hating me. To you despising me.

But maybe it would also lead to you being here. At home. Getting the help you need.

When you came home, you had a dazed look in your eye. You weren't in your senses. I didn't know what was wrong with you.

But you seemed happy in a sickly way. You seemed content. So I didn't say anything.

This continued to happen.

I feel like banging my head on the wall. I should've known something was wrong. Mom and Dad should've known.

We all should've.

But then I remember you teaching me soccer. I remember you telling me I was going to be the best player in the world one day, even though I knew I was trash.

I remember you taking me to get ice cream every Friday, no matter the weather or how tired you were. You used to always pay for it with your own money.

I remember you forcing Mom and Dad to at least pretend that they enjoyed my presence. I remember you forcing them to acknowledge me like they acknowledged you. I remember you listening with interest in anything I had to tell you. I remember you giving me piggyback rides whenever I asked you to, remember you tickling me until I laughed to death. I remember you telling me how handsome I was everyday and how one day, everyone is going to bow to my feet and make me the king.

Of course we didn't know Stanley. Of course we didn't suspect anything.

Because when you have memories of someone, memories like those, how could you even think they were doing drugs?

How could you even think they would simply leave without sparing a simple goodbye?