Chapter 11: Never Forget
886 Words
Yesterday seemed like a very religious experience for me. At least, that's what my grandmother said. She is a person who likes to say things that would often pause you for a moment so you could think.
My father, on the other hand, is not like that. It's been over a week now that's he's been in rehab, for the fourth time.
Or maybe the eighth time. I stopped counting the times that he went. It was pretty much pointless for my sake. Each time he went to rehab and came back to this side of my neighborhood, he said that it was only because he wanted to spend time with me when it was really just an excuse to get his "fix."
Another week passes and I get a call from him. He said that he was gonna come back down now that he was "sober" and "clean". I knew what he really meant.
Come to think of it, my relationship with my father has not really improved. He barely talks to me and converses about what I'm doing. Along with that, his relationships with other people were quite detrimental. For example, our neighbor, Ms. Maxine.
She was the mother of our first neighbor, Mrs. Violet. Her husband, Mr. Carter was a peculiar man. He had stubble across his face and his eyes were always down when he talked to you. Mrs. Violet had tan skin and a plump figure. I liked them. As did my grandmother and uncle. I liked Ms. Maxine especially. She was the nicest.
Sometimes, she would come over and spend time with us. Frequently, she'd be talking and gossiping with grandma and she took a great interest in her.
But it seems that Ms. Maxine also has taken an interest in dad. She developed an obsession with him. One incident, involved her buying him a new cellphone. But then it worsened when she started coming over to see him.
EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.
Dad told us once about how she went to his job because she wanted to "see him." He wasn't answering her calls for a while and that set her off.
She yelled at him and it really puzzled me on how fast her personality changed. After a few days, she got over him and moved away with Mr. and Mrs. Carter. I'm not sure where they are but I can assume that they're doing... fine.
The knock on the door made me jump up and quickly jog down the hall to it. It was about half-past noon and the sun was blocked by the clouds outside. Dad was in my presence, smiling at me holding a bag and his suitcase.
"Hey, son."
"Hi, dad."
I stepped back to let him in. His integral veins were visible in his knuckles as his hands gripped onto the loose handle of his suitcase.
"Back so soon?" I asked him.
"Yeah." He said, taking out his clothes and laying them down on the couch. "I just wanted to spend some time with you. You're my son."
Yeah. I am his son. And that's some that I regret each and every day.
After he put his clothes in the washing machine and used the bathroom, he told me that he'd be right back so we could spend some quality time together.
"I'll be right back, ok son?"
I nodded and forced a smile on my face.
As he left out the door, I looked out the window and spotted where he was going. He walked down the road casually and then disappeared into the next turn across the street.
I sat on the couch and watched tv, waiting patiently for him to come back.
While I waited, I reminisced through the past arguments that went on between my father and my uncle. It'd be mostly about money or either it'd be something personal about dad. Whatever the case was, I didn't find the time to listen to it. I just covered my ears and stared at the wall, trying to distract myself from their ignorant nonsense.
Whenever dad left out of the house after the argument, he'd be at Celesta's house. She was a "druggie" from what I could interpret. She lived not far from here. Only down the street near the closest gas station. The old elementary school was right across from it.
The times he used to pick me up from there seemed sentimental to say the least.
I continued to lie on the couch, my face leaning into my hand as I listened to the news. The rickety thumping of the washing machine continued on.
"Ten hours ago, police arrested thirty-five-year-old Tyrone Watson for the kidnapping and murder of minor Janice Huddleston." The tall newsman said. "He is due to be charged with 15 years in prison without parole."
I checked the time on the wall. An hour passed by.
Then two hours went by.
Then three.
Then four. I fell asleep on the couch unknowingly.
Before I know it, I wake up and it's 10:00 pm. The sky out the window was pitch dark. The television was now playing a game show. The washing machine had stopped.
Dad had never come back.
Some father he was. In my words, he was barely a man.
Hell, he's barely a father.
- Writer
