Authorn's Note: This story was inspired by the single movie line "Sounds like my family." I've changed Jensen's first name from the series.
Theodore Frederick Jensen was the second child to Bob and Molly Jensen, after his sister Meagan, who was 4 years older. Bob and Molly Jensen lived in a 3-bedroom, 1 1/2-bathroom bungalow built shortly after WWII in a sprawling suburb in Omaha. Bob was thrilled at the prospect of having a son, and immediately planned future fishing and hunting trips, as well as the sports that he would enrol his son in. Football and hockey sprang to the forefront quickly. Unfortunately for Bob, it didn't take long for the symptoms of poor eyesight to make itself known in his small boy. Teddy was 4 when he was nearly knocked unconscious by a well-placed soccer ball that sailed straight into his face. Teddy was the goalkeeper, and while initially his father guffawed over the seemingly amazing save his son made, his smile rapidly faded when he spotted the blood spurting through Teddy's fingers and the high-pitched wailing that signalled his son's tears. With a mixture of embarrassment and disappointment, Bob led Teddy off the field by his elbow and to the nearest clinic where a doctor gave him a good prognosis (no broken nose) followed by a bad one ("Have you had his eyes checked?"). Days later, shockingly thick-lenses in gaudy black-plastic frames were combined with a shockingly large price tag. Bob was not a happy camper to say the least.
Teddy could feel his father's disappointment acutely. His father rarely spoke to him, and when he did it was usually to yell at him to turn down that piece of shit television or to quit bothering him and go outside already. Teddy learned at an early age to associate his father with general unpleasantness. He rarely seemed to make his father happy, if at all. Most of the time, Teddy was downright afraid of his father and the simmering anger that always lurked underneath the cold exterior.
His mother wasn't exactly a joyride herself. She was perpetually tired. So tired that she barely had time to look after him and often told him that he would need to play by himself as mommy was in need of a nap. Teddy found it odd that these naps frequently coincided with mommy's penchant for her "special juice" that she refused to share with Teddy, which he found enormously unfair. One day, while she was taking a nap, Teddy crawled up onto a chair and then onto the countertop and then reached up into the top shelf of the cupboard beside their faded yellow fridge where mommy stored her special juice. He had to dig it out from behind several cans and cartons of food that blocked the way. When he finally pulled it down, he unscrewed the cap and took a deep whiff. The scent nearly singed his nostril hairs right off. He grimaced, wondered why on earth this stuff was so special and then took a tentative sip. The result was explosive. He started coughing violently with tears running down his face. He dropped the bottle on the countertop and scurried over to the sink. He let the water run full blast and dipped his chin under the stream of water, lapping up as much as he could as quickly as he could. He slurped the water hungrily, trying to wash away the bitter taste of the double-crossing juice.
He was now convinced that either his mother was certifiably nuts, or that she had somehow tragically lost her taste buds in some sort of freak accident when she was a child. He decided that he should do his utmost to rectify the situation with his mother as soon as possible. There was a better way for her to live, and he knew the answer: Kool-Aid. He brought it up that night at dinner.
As the family of four was gathered for a meal of steamed peas, mashed potatoes and overcooked pork-chops, Teddy asked his mother innocently if she had never tried Kool-Aid before. His mother looked at him quizzically before responding that yes, of course she had tried Kool-Aid and why was he asking such silly questions?
"Because it's much better than the gross juice you drink everyday."
Teddy had never seen his mother blush so furiously and he found her sudden silence quite strange. His father seemed to take particular interest in this new turn of events.
"What's this about gross juice?"
Teddy looked at his father from across the table and frowned. "The special juice mommy drinks." He answered. He found it odd that his father didn't know about this disgusting concoction.
Bob cast a severe glance at Molly who stared intently at her half-eaten peas on the plate. "What juice?" He asked again, this time at his wife. Molly retained her silence and refused to look at him.
Teddy pointed at the cabinet beside the fridge. "The juice in there."
Bob got up from the table. Something patted Teddy's arm. He looked to his left where his sister Meagan sat. Meagan was patting his arm, motioning him to stop pointing. Teddy cocked his head at her in confusion. Meagan's face was pale and sweaty, her eyes wide. The hand on Teddy's arm was trembling. Meagan was clearly terrified. A sick feeling formed in Teddy's gut. He knew instinctively that he had just done something very, very bad and he wished he could take the last 3 minutes back with all his heart.
His father opened the cabinet and fished around inside. He finally pulled out a half-empty bottle of vodka. He grasped the bottle by the neck and stared at it murderously, as if the bottle itself had deceived him in some treacherous way. Then his gaze settled on the back of Molly's head.
"Did you drink this, Molly?" He asked slowly, quietly.
Meagan squeezed Teddy's hand underneath the table. The only sound in the room came from the ticking of the clock above the kitchen window. It ticked on and on and the seconds it counted took on an ominous air. Teddy glanced at his mother. She was still staring at her plate but there was a slight tremble in her chin.
"Do you drink this while you're supposed to be watching our son, Molly?"
Bob took a step towards Molly's back.
Teddy's eyes welled with tears that spilled down his cheeks, but he was too scared to move or breathe. Bob slammed the bottle on the table in front of Molly's plate and the children jumped in their seats. Bob grasped the back of Molly's chair and brought his mouth to her ear. "I asked you a fucking question."
Molly shakily turned her head to face her husband, her eyes wet with tears that stubbornly refused to fall. Bob was red in the face, his eyebrows knitted tightly together as he waited for his wife's response. Molly turned up a defiant chin towards him. "Who else would have fucking drank it, you dumb sack of shit?"
The slap across her face was swift and violent. Molly's head swung to the side and she gasped softly as she cupped her swollen cheek with her hand.
Meagan's hand tightened urgently on Teddy's. In one quick move, Meagan had led Teddy out of his chair and down the hall to his bedroom. Teddy heard the sharp staccato beat of more slaps mixed with his mother's pained wailing. He frantically tried to look over his shoulder, but found himself forcibly pushed into his bedroom. Meagan sat him down on his bed and covered his ears with his own hands. Then she closed the door behind them and sat on the bed with her arms cradling Teddy's small, shaking body. She placed her own hands over his, tightening the hold on his ears.
Despite the added protection of his sister's hands on his ears, Teddy could still hear the crash of overturned furniture and the frightened screams of his mother and the furious yells of his father.
He never talked about his mom's activities in the afternoon to his father again.