It was around 8pm when I finally left my room. I unpacked and had to reorganize some of the space itself. Courtney had clearly shut herself in my room in all her fervor. As I made my way downstairs I heard the shower in the bathroom connected to the kitchen start up.
Courtney was in the kitchen looking for something to eat. She quietly informed me that James was taking a shower and he didn’t seem to be in a great mood.
“How about I cook something up for us Court. We have a little family dinner.”
She looked skeptical “Ya sure. Do you even know how to cook?”
“Of course I do. How about some pancakes?”
“For dinner?”
“Yeah why not. Mom let us have breakfast on special occasions and this counts as one right.” She winced when I said Mom. Like I had opened a freshly scabbing wound.
“Sure.”
Courtney began to wander out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom. I felt horrible making her feel like that. It wasn’t even intentional, hopefully a meal could cheer her up.
As I finished making the pancakes James came out of the shower, he was weaning pants and nothing else. He appeared to have gained some muscle mass over the last month. “Welcome back.” He had a scowl on his face.
“Thanks. Pancake?” I held him one of the pancakes that had begun to cool down.
“I’m good. I ate on my way home.”
“What about Courtney? Did you get her anything to eat?”
“No, she’s fine. She makes her own dinner.”
“Are you sure? When I got out the dishes to make them they had a layer of dust on them.”
“Okay? And that’s my problem, how?” He looked annoyed.
“What has she been eating?”
“I don’t know, whatever is in the house. Whatever Dad cooks.”
“Did you know that she hasn’t seen him in days?”
“Did you know she lies? I’ve seen dad plenty of times.”
I began to squint my eyes at him, almost trying to discern who had begun impersonating my brother. “When?”
“Just yesterday, I saw him leaving the bar. He looked like he was heading this way so I assumed he was coming home. Not my fault he never came here. He probably passed out drunk in a ditch somewhere.” He said it all with enough detachment that I almost believed he wasn’t talking about his own father.
I gave James a shove. “Just because I’m a fuck up and Dads drunk somewhere doesn’t mean you need to be such an ass!”
He looked down his nose at me and began to shout. “I’m the only reason we still have a house! I’m the only reason you could go to rehab! And I’m the only reason Courtney gets to eat food! Not Dad, not you! I’m doing my fucking best! So don’t fucking hit me over it. If you want to hit someone you druggie go take it out on Dad! I’m being more of a Father than he’s been!”
James threw the pancake on the ground and stormed out of the room. A few moments later I heard his bedroom door slam shut. I didn’t know he was paying for my rehab. No wonder he has been so distant with Courtney. If he’s paying for all he’s claiming to, he has to be working upwards of 80 to 100 hours a week to afford it, given he isn’t making what Dad used to. As I thought this I began to walk to the dining room table. On my way I crossed the stairwell leading to our bedrooms upstairs. Courtney was sitting on the step their, her head in her hands, sobbing.
I put a hand on her shoulder, to which she flinched away looking up at me with tear filled eyes. “You lied to me.” I looked at her sheepishly.
“I’m sorry, I–”
“Don’t talk to me. Mom wouldn’t be able to look at you if she knew.” Courtney shot up and ran off to her room.
I sat down at the table with swiftly cooling pancakes, my appetite lost. My eyes closed and my mind began to drift. First it was how badly I fucked up, drugs, yelling, lying. Then the pain my siblings were in. Both feeling like they were alone. Mom died, I became an addict and Dad. If I found dad I might be able to help the two of them. If I kicked my addiction then surely he could kick his.
I began to hear the noise of driving cars. Dozens of people walking around. The smell of cheap booze. As I opened my eyes I was standing in front of a dive bar. My body had blinked across space. One moment I was at the dining room table the next I was standing here on the sidewalk. It felt like I was hopping, like I jumped into the air and landed a few feet in front of me. This isn’t the first time this has happened to me. Though it didn’t happen very often.
The few times it had happened I ended up either back in my bedroom here in New York City or in our old home in Upstate New York. That trip took some explaining on how I got there. Luckily it had only happened once.
I looked into the window of the bar and saw my father sitting at the main bar looking longing into a glass of what looked like whiskey. I made my way inside and straddled up next to him. The bartender looked over at me. “You old enough kid?” My father glanced over at me, his drunk face lighting up.
“Nick! How you been? He’s fine, he’s my son.” His breath smelled like cheap whiskey, his words were slurred, and he had the slight reek of BO. Dad had clearly been here for awhile, and it had been some time since he had last showered or shaved or done any sort of personal hygiene.
“What are you doing here, Dad?”
“What does it look like?” He waved at the bartender. “One for him.” I waved them away and said sorry. “I’m toasting to my dearly departed Ann. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“No Dad. I was looking for you. Do you know how long you’ve been here?”
“I don’t know. Few hours. I mean your mother only died a few days ago. Don’t be so heartless. Let a man grieve.”
“Days? Try more like a month or two.” He gave me a bewildered look.
“Month? Fine, just let me have a few more and I’ll get back home.”
“We are leaving now Dad. Courtney has been worried sick.” I began to lift him from his chair.
“Courtney? I love her. I hope she’s taking your mother’s death alright.” he began to look at me when he was getting dragged. “You seem to be doing fine you heatless bastard.” He patted me on the back. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. I’d have to ask him when he gets sober.
We began to make our way down the street to where we could get a cab or catch the bus. A cab might be better, less chance of getting a public intoxication charge. That might piss James off even more. About half an hour into our walk Dad fainted. I tried to hold him as he fell but he hit the concrete pretty hard. I froze, unsure of what to do. Some people walked around us, a few stopped and gawked. While a particularly good samaritan stopped to help him. As my brain began to catch up to what just happened my view of reality distorted.
The people crowding the street were replaced with wooden walls. The concrete became a red carpet. I felt myself sitting in a leather chair. A large wooden desk with paperwork and a globe on it in front of me. And behind that desk was a man wearing a finely tailored suit. As my once blurry vision began to clear the bald man began to speak.
“Nicolas Caldwell. Welcome to Black River. I have an offer for you that you’re going to accept.”
Andon Writes 
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