What goes around...
This is my contribution to my own challenge on the forum, the first person challenge. I had numbers picked for me so Flack really was a coincidence! It's rated for swearing which is throughout. My picks were Don Flack, anger and a magic wand.
…...
This is not real I tell myself It's not fucking real.
But it is, and only too well do I know that.
Fuck.
"You OK?" Grandma asks me.
"I'm fine" my mouth says automatically, but my mind...
Oh yeah, I'm great. Standing here in my parents house, only it's not is it, because I'm an orphan now.
I snort at my inner thoughts and wrench open a cupboard and start pulling things out. Damn my Dad was organised, something I didn't inherit.
An orphan, at 35, it's a slightly dramatic description of my situation really. Thoughts of orphans lead in the direction of dirty children dressed in rags and sleeping under coats,not 6ft 3 NYPD detectives with a comfortable apartment and a grandma that beats any woman hands down with her smothering abilities.
I can hear Sam in the kitchen, she's muttering away to Grandma about Dad again, I don't need to hear the words to know what she's saying, I can tell by the tone. It'll be the same damned thing it always is whenever Dad is mentioned. The same thing we went through again when I asked her to come and help me and Grandma sort his things out a few days after the funeral. At least she turned up to that. I try and fail to feel grateful instead of resentful.
She does that annoying pouty thing at me with her arms folded across her chest as I look at her. 'Cool it' I order myself.
"You want me to help sort the house out?" she asks in a tone I know so well.
"Yes" I tell her "We need to do it together Sam, me you and Gramma"
"Well, I'm not, throw it all in the trash for me"
"Stop bein' so damned selfish!" I snap, restraint isn't my strong point "If you can't do it for me, then do it for Gramma"
"An' what about me?!" she flies back, another Flack family row following in the great tradition! Fucks sake...
"Not everything is about you!" I tell her, because it's not "Think of someone else for a change. We both jus' lost our Dad Sam! Gramma jus' lost her SON for Chrissakes!"
"I only came because you guilt tripped me into it!" oh shit that stings... "Tellin' me how you need me there, Gramma needs me there, but either of you stop to think what I need huh? No, ya don't do ya?! I didn't want to be there Don, you know how much I need a drink right now huh? Do you even care?"
OK, so that kinda takes the wind outta my sails.
"I'm sorry" I tell her "I thought...we both thought you might find some closure at the funeral"
"Well you were wrong" she stutters back "I feel worse! Can you imagine what it's like to watch your father's funeral and feel nothing but relief?!"
"Sam..." I try again.
"I'll do it" she suddenly decides, the tears receding as quickly as they started "But for Gramma, not for you or Dad, sometimes Don, you're as bad as him"
That had hurt, really cut me because no matter what had ever happened, I'd never left her alone...I'd never let her struggle without me there to at least try and help. I knew why Dad couldn't handle it, and why he did what he did, but I also knew Sam would never understand that. He'd told me the day my mother died that I needed to be there for Sam and it was a request that I'd tried to honor with all my heart, even when he couldn't do the same. He'd told me right here in this living room, sitting right on that couch.
"Donny...son, you know you Mom isn't coming home right?"
"Yeah Dad" I mumble, I'm young, but old enough to know he means never.
"And you know that while it's OK to be upset about that" he pauses and puts a hand on my shoulder by way of comfort "You need to hold your head high and help your sister huh? Women...they do things differently to us guys...an' that you'll learn soon enough your own way, but for now, can you keep an eye on your sister for me? Without your mom about she's going to need her big brother"
"I know Dad" I promise "And I will"
"Good boy" he smiles at me "You're gonna make a great cop one day son"
I force a smile 'To serve and protect' started that day, with the legacy my father handed to me.
I grit my teeth against the anger at both of them, for putting me in that position. I was a kid myself for Gods sake! And for the first time I felt angry at Dad, for dumping me with the responsibility of Sam. He had no thought to me, if I could handle it, how it would make me feel to try and constantly be the peacemaker in the family. It's a role I'm damned sick of, and one that hasn't stopped even now he's dead.
Dead. I swallow the tears, my Dad, my pop, my hero. He's dead. The one guy who knew how I felt when Jess died, the guy who listened and drank with me and watched me fall apart, and then helped me put myself back together. Why couldn't he have done that with Sam? Why did he have to make me feel so bad because I had such an easy relationship with him and she didn't? Why did he make it so damned obvious?
I open another cupboard roughly and see some old board games and some old dolls of Sams. I put them to one side, she might want them, though I'd just leave them out, I wouldn't bother telling her. There was no point starting another damned argument.
I spy a battered box at the back and despite myself I smile. My old magic set, damn how I'd wanted that! Ever since my best buddies 7th birthday party where I'd seen the magician and became obsessed. I'd had to wait until my own birthday but I'd got it eventually, and boy did I love that thing!
Sitting on the floor with the box on my lap I opened it and looked inside. It was just as I remembered, and I ran my hand over the contents gently. I'd mastered every trick in the small book it came with by heart. Looking back, Dad musta got fed up with constantly being asked to pick a card or getting presented with a bunch of plastic flowers out of a velvet bag. But he never let on, not once.
Then a memory gets me, takes my breath away not just with it's vivid nature, but with the anger it evokes.
Sam's sitting at the kitchen table struggling with homework she's been ordered to do, I could help her, but pissing her off is much more fun.
I dart past her again, my wand in my hand.
"I'm gonna turn you into a TOAD!" I yell, well quietly because my Dad's trying to grab a few hours shut eye before his night shift.
"Knock it off Donny!" she hisses at me, swatting behind her "Dad'll kill me if I get this wrong again"
"'Cos you're a dumb ass!" I taunt. I seem to conveniently forget that my own homework is only complete because my Dad spent an hour he could have been sleeping walking me through it.
"Shut up!" she whines.
"Nope!" I laugh, tapping her on the head with the wand "I told ya, I'm gonna turn you into a toad! Or maybe a frog...no...no" I laugh with my new idea "A mouse! Ya hate them huh? Stupid dumb girl...scared o mice!"
"Donny!" she says again, and my smile widens, her voice is getting louder and if she wakes Dad, there'll be hell to pay...for her, not me of course "Aren't you a bit old to be runnin' around with a magic wand huh?!" she spins in the chair and asks me "Wonder what your cool mates will think if I tell 'em?"
I still, she is good at revenge my sister, and she'll do it to. It's no idle threat.
"You dare!" I warn, brandishing the wand like a weapon "I'll kick your ass for you!"
"Not before they kick yours for bein' a cissy!" she taunts "Oh ickle Donny playin' with his magic set!" she snorts with humour "I can't wait to see their faces!"
I've never hit my sister, well actually that's not true, I've never hit my sister and got caught at this age. Of course I grew out of it, trying to beat her up regularly pretty early, but I haven't thought about it for a few years, and I usually thought twice back then anyway, because she's stronger than she looks and there's no guarantee that I won't come off worse. I guess that's why Mom used to let us get on with it, she knew Sam could handle me all right.
I swipe at her with the wand and she grabs it deftly, holding it up and snapping it right under my nose before I can do anything. She flings it at my feet and sneers.
"Now leave me alone!"
I open my mouth but it's not my voice that penetrates the kitchen.
"Samantha!" Dad's voice thunders.
"Dad he was..." she tries to defend herself.
"It's your voice I can hear!" he storms "And you breaking your brothers things! You will pay for a replacement from your pocket money!"
"But Dad!" she protests.
"But nothing!" he slams back, reaching into his wallet he hands me $20 "Go get yourself another son" he says "Your sister will forfeit her pocket money until it's paid for!"
"Thanks Dad" I grin, pocketing the money and raising my eyebrows at Sam who slumps back to her homework.
I jump up, dumping the box in the trash bag. I'm shaking so damned hard, and I'm way beyond anger now. But not directed at Sam, or my Dad, but at myself.
"You want some coffee?" Sam asks me from the kitchen doorway, her face a mask of pity. Pity for me because she can see the tears in my eyes and thinks they are for the loss of my Dad. Despite her own feelings about him she knows how much losing him has hit me and she's there for me, I see it in her eyes and it just makes me feel worse.
"No, thanks..." I breathe "Look, I have to jus' run out for...somethin'"
She smiles in sympathy and it's more than I can take right now. I turn and leave without another word. Slamming out the house and into my car. I catch sight of myself in the rear view as I start the car.
"You bastard" I tell myself "You utter bastard"
…...
Well that didn't quite turn out how I planned to be honest but I'm quite pleased with the outcome...let me know what you think!
