Fading Pasts

Chapter 4

(Above is Marie Conti, John's mother)

It was my junior year when I was approached by a guy, a fellow student, offering me easy money. I was naive and broke, so of course I accepted. Before I knew it, I was stealing cars, breaking into stores at midnight, and selling drugs to other uptight football players at my school. It was great because I was making money, had a group of friends, and a pretty girl on my arm. The guy that brought me into this... job, well, he was killed by a rival group that was more experienced than our rag tag group of high schoolers. We held a service for him at school and left out all the bad details about his after-school activities. I got home that night and my dad was drinking, swearing, and throwing things. I had just lost my friend, and I wasn't about to deal with him. I walked up to him and punched him right there. He started to laugh and when he went to swing back, I hit him again and again and again. My mom was screaming and pulled me back from him. I looked down at that broken and disgusting man that was my father, and I spit on him. He wasn't even worth it.

I thought my dad never really cared for me and for the most part I was right, at least during those years. Little did I know that even though he didn't care, he still paid attention to me, a little too much. That next morning, I walked down the steps, and they must've heard me coming because the already hushed conversation in the kitchen stopped completely. My father's face was priceless. His black eye complimented his fat lip perfectly.

"John, we need to talk about your behavior. Especially what you did to your father last night."

"What I did to him? You're kidding?"

"You're lucky I don't throw you out of my house for what you did to me or call the cops."

"Your house. When's the last time you've done anything but get too drunk to function? You say Grandpa treated you like crap? Well look around, you are exactly like him."

He stood up, and it became clear that I stepped over a line I shouldn't have. But there was no backing down now. No way I was letting him win this time. Mom got between us and told him to sit down. I could already smell the alcohol on his breath. Whether it was from last night or this morning didn't make any difference.

"My father almost killed my brothers and I working day in and day out to support his gambling and drinking and pushing my momma around."

"When is the last time you paid for a single thing around here? Mom and I pay the bills, buy food, and you sit around acting like you're the man of the house. You can barely walk a straight line sober, let alone drunk."

"You talk about my bad habits, what about yours?"

"I make money around here so I can support mom, and you can sit around like the leech you are."

"Is that what your buddy that died in the drug exchange a couple days back tell you? You know John, I was thinking about it, and I put two and two together. You worked for Steve, don't you?"

"You two are getting on my nerves, quit bickering and sit down."

"See John, I've been thinking about where you've been getting your money, and I know since you hung out with that dead boy that it is the only explanation as to where a boy your age could possibly get that kind of money."

"What are you suggesting of our son, Arthur?"

"He's dealing."

My mom looked at me, and by the expression on her face I could tell exactly what she was thinking. I couldn't tell if she was more disappointed or mad, but mostly she just looked confused and scared.

"John, is that true?"

"No ma'am, I work hard to make the money that I do and then he goes and just spends it on beer."