Ackwards, Not Awkward

Chapter 3 - Deryl the Jalopy

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I pull Deryl, my old and rusted 1986 Ford Escort, into my driveway. He gives off an exhausted sigh, and I can tell he wants to retire from the road, or maybe even explode for all of the pain I’ve put him through. He used to be my dad’s old car and before that, my grandfather’s car. My grandpa didn’t have him for long before my dad took over, but he’s been in the family for about 30 years. Surprisingly, for his age, he only has about 290,000 miles and is still driving through life. Way to go Deryl! 

I make sure to pat Deryl’s hood before I unlock the door to my house. I live in a duplex with my father and brother which is about 20 minutes away from school. I kind of like living a little farther away so I don’t have to run into people I know from school or teachers and have uncomfortable conversations with them at the grocery store. I never know what to say, and there’s always a bunch of awkward silences filled with head bobs and forced smiles.

As I walk into my house, I make sure to be very quiet. My dad works third shift most of the time at some sort of manufacturing company downtown and is usually sleeping by the time I get home. I walk into the kitchen which is to the left as soon as you walk in the house and pour myself a glass of juice. 

My brother, like always, doesn't get the memo that dad is sleeping right now, and a stream of curse words slip out of his mouth as he slams the door behind him as he walks in the house.  I pause from chugging my juice and whisper shout, “Ian shut up, Dad’s sleeping!” He storms past me to his bedroom but decides to stop mid-stride. He turns around on his heel and flips me off before stomping past me to his bedroom once more. 

He must be on his man period again. I wonder if he’s having cramps.  

“It’s okay, Ash, I’m not actually sleeping,” dad says from the living room. His eyes are red with heavy purple bags underneath them like he hasn’t been sleeping. 

“I thought you would be asleep by now,” I say. 

“I usually would be, but I wanted to see how you guys were doing. Cleary Ian is in one of his moods as per usual, but how about you? How was your day?” 

“Good.” I chuckle. 

“Why do I even bother asking?” he mutters to himself. 

“What?” 

“Every time I ask that question, I get the same answer when I know it isn’t true. Come on was there anything eventful during your day?” 

Well my friends don’t want me to hang out with them and probably hate like me, Parker Williams winked at me a thousand times today and I’m making a big deal about it, and my English teacher has some unknown proposition in store for me that’s probably going to backfire and leave me feeling like a suck-ish person. Instead, I  stay safe and go for the simple, “not really,” accompanied by a shrug. 

“Lies.” He fake scoffs which makes me snort on my juice. 

“How ladylike,” my brother mocks me as he enters the kitchen once more, clearly angry at something. He takes the juice out of my hand and angrily drinks it. I didn’t know it was possible for a person to angrily chug down juice, but Ian has officially accomplished it. His face contorts in anger, his eyebrows furrowed as he breathes heavily continuing to drink the glass of juice. 

“Quit PMSing already. There’s chocolate in the refrigerator if you need it.” Ian slams the now empty glass of juice on the counter and slaps me across the head. Now it’s my turn to flip him off.