She had not been impressed with him for a long time.
Unperturbed, Steve’s father continued, “I know this is not what you want, but this isn’t some vacation resort. This isn’t a vacation! There is some serious shit going on out there.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “You’ll be thanking me soon enough that I managed to use my position to land us in here.”
Steve tuned out both his parents and climbed the stairs, which was more like a ladder, to go exploring upstairs. He staked out the smaller of the two bedrooms and spent the next few minutes moving his bags in from where he had left them outside. All the while his parents argued. He had just finished unpacking his stuff when things got quiet downstairs.
Steve knew better than to think that the argument was over. It meant that the fight was just heating up.
HIS DAD PROMPTLY ABANDONED Steve and his mom the very next day. Or that was what his mom called it.
He left early in the mornings and did not return until well into the evenings. They lived like that for several days as the camp slowly got started up and populated. Steve might have had some understanding for his father’s absences. He had a job to do and all that.
But then his mom got sick.
Steve remembered sitting around the table one evening while his mom described her symptoms to her dad. He just looked uncomfortable. Like he didn’t want to be there.
“Have you told anybody?” he asked.
“There’s nobody to tell, Frank. We go eat our meals at the cafeteria, collect our other rations at the designated areas, and spend the rest of our time locked up in this tin can.”
It was clear to Steve that the safe zone had not grown on his mom. The way she put air quotes around “designated areas’ and rolled her eyes showed Steve just how much she resented their situation.
“Uh-huh.” Steve’s dad nodded.
Steve’s mom huffed in frustration. “Dammit, Frank! Can you stop treating us like disgruntled voters? Just for one fucking minute?”
Steve fed on his mom’s anger. He scowled across the table at his dad, who noticed. The father blanched slightly at the look from his own son.
He turned back to his wife, pointing at Steve. “Look! You’re turning my own son against me.” He had the amazing ability to sound both incriminating and indignant at the same time.
Steve’s mom just looked at him with a flat stare. She said nothing for a long moment, while he squirmed in his seat.
“Really.”
The sharp word shattered the silence. Steve saw his dad jerk slightly in his chair, almost as if the word were a physical slap.
“I’m telling you that I may be infected with this HAPS thing — and all you can do is be concerned about your image?” She leaned forward in her chair. “Steve,” She said without taking her eyes off her husband. “Give us a moment, please.”
Steve was all too happy to get up and leave the tiny kitchen area. He walked to the ladder-type stairwell and climbed up to the second story. He stuck around the stairwell so that he could listen in, though.
It was more of the usual stuff. Accusations and insults and threats of divorce. No. One new item. Regret for not getting divorced sooner. Something they could both agree on.
Steve had seen it happen. He was a first-hand witness to the destructive relationship, dominated by selfishness and neglect. But he was firmly in his mother’s camp. At least she spared the occasional thought for him. As for his dad... Steve felt sure that he was nothing more than an inconvenience to his father. A hiccup on the path to political power and glory.
Maybe that’s why Steve hated his dad. Frank Morgan could never turn off his politician persona. Most people liked him. His own family saw through it and knew him as a fake.
The fight ended as they all did. Unresolved.
The next day, Steve ran into Mark. The two boys got along. At least, they were enough of a distraction for each other. Steve didn’t come home much after that moment.
Just to sleep, really.
SEVERAL DAYS LATER, Steve was ready to leave for another day of adventure with his two new friends: Mark and Alex. He had crept out of his tiny room and started down the ladder.
“Steve...”
His mother’s faint voice came from the other room. Steve hesitated for a moment. He didn’t really want to see his mom.
“Steve ... Please...” his mom called again.
Steve had no option. He climbed back up the ladder and walked to his mom’s room. The door was cracked open. He pushed it the rest of the way and stepped in. The first thing he noticed was that the lights had been left on.
Probably all night.
His mom laid in bed; her face was pale. The sheets and blankets were a mess. Almost like she had been wrestling with them all night.
“Yes, Mom?”
“Steve...” was all she said.
Steve stepped closer, concerned for his mother. “Mom? Are you getting worse?”
She nodded. It took a lot of her energy, and she let her head sink back into the pillow after the effort. “Call your father. ... His number is beside the phone downstairs... Tell him... I need him.” The effort of speaking was almost too much for her as she closed her eyes and spoke no more.
Steve had not realized that his mom was that sick. He watched her wide-eyed as she lay there.
“O-OK, Mom. I’ll call him right away.”
He started to perspire as he turned and jogged to the stairs. The perspiration was running down his back by the time he dialed his father’s number.
His dad picked up on the fourth ring. “Yes.”
“Dad. It’s Steve.”
“Yeah. What is it?” The way he said the words made them sound more like an accusation
