Gunther whined from under the table. I reached down to scratch him behind the ear.
“Well, you know, Ellie, at least I have a job. And at least I’m making more than minimum wage. If you’re so worried about the lights getting cut off, why don’t you go back down to the grocery store and beg for your cashier gig back, huh? Maybe the movie theater will let you sell tickets again. Maybe Jack can get another job after school, pitch in around here for once instead of running around all day with his friends. What do you say, Jack?”
There was so much of this I could take. “I’m going out.”
I started to stand, but Dad moved to block my way. “YOU SIT DOWN!”
“Jim!” Mom shrieked. “Don’t scream in his ear!”
“We are having a family financial discussion!” Dad yelled. Gunther shoved his nose against my knee and groaned, tail wagging nervously.
“This is not a discussion, and this is not a family!” Mom screamed back. “This is not a home! Look at this shit! Look at this cheap, shitty floor you can’t even be bothered to replace!” She fell to her knees and started tearing up the linoleum, a wild look in her eyes.
“Don’t, Ellie!” Dad dashed over and grabbed her roughly by the arm, and she elbowed him hard in the gut.
“Both of you just stop it!” I shouted. I tried to push him off her, and he lost his balance and tumbled to the torn linoleum, knocking over a chair and the plate with the muffins. It shattered instantly, and he cursed loudly as Mom screeched as loudly as the kettle. Gunther yelped and darted across the room.
“Oh!” Mom’s hands flew to her mouth. She looked around, eyes wide, tears streaming down her face, as if she’d suddenly realized where she was. “It was perfect! Everything was so perfect!” she cried. She hurried to clean up the broken plate. I tried to help her, but she snatched the pieces away from my hands, nearly cutting them in the process.
“Jesus, Mom! Let me help you!”
Dad was panting as he struggled to get up. I could tell by his face that the room was spinning, and that he might puke soon. It was nothing I wanted to deal with. So I turned to the door.
“Just where the hell do you think you’re going, Jack?” he bellowed, pointing at me. Mom was still crying about the stupid cheap plate from the Dollar Store, moaning about the surprise she wouldn’t get now. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Out,” I said. “I’m going out, and you both can sort your shit out while I’m gone.”
“Jack!” Mom gasped.
“You do not speak to us like that!” Dad growled. He was getting to his feet now, but stumbling, sliding on the floor that Mom had just mopped.
I pushed past Gunther, who was now whining and panting wildly in front of me, and grabbed my keys and wallet. Right as I was about to open the door, Dad shouted at me: “Where are you going? Hang out with that loser buddy of yours?”
The words just tumbled out before I could stop them. “No, Dad, I need to go fuck that loser buddy of mine.”
They both stared at me, frozen in time for a moment, and I hurried out of there before I could hear any more from them.
37.
We laid on his bed, watching the ceiling fan make its slow, deliberate spins as it rained down cool air on our faces.
“One day we’ll go to Bermuda,” he said, his hand resting on my chest. “We’ll get on a jet and fly so far away from here.”
“We’ll drink piña coladas in the water,” I added, smiling at the idea.
“We’ll get so drunk the waves will probably wash us away,” he said.
I sighed. “I hope they do.”
He turned to look at me, searching my face for an explanation.
“No, I didn’t mean it…it’s just,” I said. “Nevermind.”
We lay there in the cool stillness for a while longer, the blades of the fan making a low whooshing sound against the static air.
“How’s your dad doing?” he asked, breaking the silence.
I shrugged. “My father is an alcoholic bartender.”
“My father’s in maximum-security prison.”
“Two fucked-up fathers. No wonder we’re complete degenerates. We never had a chance.” I laughed, but Connor didn’t.
Instead he sat up on his elbows and leaned over me, his eyes meeting mine with a ferocity I’d never seen before. “Don’t say that. Not even if you’re joking. Don’t ever say that.”
I must have looked shocked because he reached over and lightly stroked my face, massaging his nails through my scalp. “You know it isn’t true,” he said. “That’s what they want you to think, what they want you to believe. And the second you start believing it, you’re fucked.”
I reached over to hold his hand, pulling his body towards me. He draped over me like a warm blanket, his stomach pressing into mine as he exhaled.
“I believed it once,” he said into my ear. I could feel the vibrations in his voice all the way at the bottom of my spine. “I almost gave up completely, lost interest in living. I felt so disconnected from my body, like I was just this entity floating inside it, and it was a shell that needed to be taken off. Do you know what it’s like, to have someone overpowering you, hurting you, beating you, and there’s nothing you can do about it?” Something was cracking through that normally tough exterior.
I pulled his warm skin closer to me, pressing my lips to his ear. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you like that ever again. I promise.”
I felt his hot tears on my skin. It shook me to my core, feeling his brokenness. I repeated the vow I’d just made in my head, over and over like a prayer, rubbing his back like my mom did to me when I was little. How did he even survive as kid without
