6-8-01
Wow! I didn't fall on stage last night! Sweet! However, I did screw up. Okay. Let me set this up for you. There are three groups; a large middle one, and two smaller ones; one on the left, and one on the right. I was in the righty. Righty forgot a whole step, and lefty was doing it right. We totally fucked up (pardon my French). Uhhh… Enjoy the story.
Dave sat
and stared at his son. He didn't know
whether to be angry, or to be thankful that Joey didn't die. He was a little of both. Joey stirred a little, from his previous
slumber. It was 8 am, the night after
Joey was admitted. Dave moved forward
and looked at Joey, who opened his eyes. Dave shot a stone cold stare at Joey. Joey knew that Dave was mad, so he just looked away, ashamed. Dave got up and walked out of the room. Joey began to cry. What have I done? He thought, not caring anymore. A troupe of doctors ran in to do some tests on the drowsy youth, and as
fast as they were in, they were gone, once again leaving Joey to his
sorrow. There was no clock that was
visible, and they had taken his personal belongings into an envelope for him
for later. Dave came back after what
felt like hours. Joey didn't want him
to come back and tell him the god-awful truth, or at least, what Joey thought
was the truth. Joey made to open his
mouth, but Dave glared at him. Joey
shut his mouth and looked at Dave silently. Dave's face didn't change as he loomed over his son. "You know, Joseph. I used to feel sorry for you, and what your dad did to you." He paused looking at Joey. "But now, I think that you are the biggest
hypocrite I have ever met." He said
coldly. Joey sighed and let a tear slip
from his eye. "Dad, I-" He began. "Don't call
me that." Dave snapped. Joey nodded and looked away. He didn't talk again. It was pointless, and Dave, although forward
thinking, wasn't about to have a modern
'it's-okay-honey-I'll-forgive-you-and-hope-that-you-never-do-it-again approach
to this. "Sorry, Dr. Malucci." He whispered. "You're fine. You're
being discharged today. You're
fine." He said, turning on his heel and
walking back out.
Dave
stormed down the hall. "Dave, you're
needed in-" Romano began. "Fuck off,
Robert!" Dave grunted. "What did you say?" "I SAID 'FUCK OFF ROBERT!'" He shouted, causing the entire ER to quiet
down. Romano stepped out of Dave's
way. Dave kicked open the men's room
door and went into it. He made sure no
one was in there and looked into the mirror. He shook his head and wiped his face while trying to figure out what to
do with Joey. He still didn't know 20
minutes later so he left the room and to the desk where he signed Joey
out. Joey was taken out and allowed to
walk out. He didn't look up to Dave,
and just walked out. Dave followed him
close, but stayed back. "Get in the
truck." Dave commanded. Joey did as he was told, fastened his
seatbelt, and folded his hands in his lap. Dave began to drive and didn't stop. They got to the state border, and they had to stop for gas. Dave pumped, paid, and got back in. They managed to drive through Indiana and
some of Ohio before having to stop again. They drove all day, and Dave wouldn't allow himself any time to
sleep. They finally reached their
destination, Dave's home city of Brooklyn, New York. Dave knew where he was going, even though it had been about 20
years since he last lived there. He
parked on a road that led to a cemetery. He got out and then opened Joey's door. HE unbuckled the seatbelt and then yanked the young man out of the
door. He dragged the man into the
cemetery and around various headstones of people. Joey's eyes widened as he saw some of them. They finally reached an area of land where
there was a small headstone in the ground that read, 'Matthew J. Armato,
1961-1975.' There was nothing else on
it, and there were flowers planted, probably by Scott, or his best friends at
the time, the ones who were still around anyway. Dave grabbed Joey and pushed him down on the grave. "You see this you stupid little bastard? Do
you see it!!!!" Dave yelled. Joey nodded. "Yeah? You do? You know what it is?" Dave asked. "A gravestone?" "Yes, a grave
stone. OF MY BROTHER!" Dave raised his hand to Joey, but dropped
it. "No. Not here. I won't
disgrace my brother like that. Not the
way he died." He said. Then he shouted at Joey. "SEE THIS? THIS IS THE PRODUCT OF ALCOHOL! THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS." Dave
shouted. Joey lost his composure and
began to cry. HE cried as Dave
continued to shout, and he cried when Dave finally collapsed on the ground,
hugging the ground beneath the headstone. He slowly crawled over to Dave, and tried to hug him. Dave slapped him away. Joey left the cemetery and sat outside the
gate. HE waited the hour and a half
that Dave stayed, grieving. When Dave
finally came back, Joey was still in the same position, face haunted by demons
familiar to Dave. Dave motioned him up
and into the car. Joey did as he was told
and buckled in. Dave began to get
sleepy, but Joey didn't. Joey never got
tired. Dave, out of money, pulled over
for the night. He climbed into the
back, leaving Joey up front, and not really caring what he did for a bed. Once Joey knew Dave was asleep, he grabbed
the car keys and started the car. He
began to drive back the same way he had driven. He finally reached Chicago by
the time that the sun came up. Dave
hadn't even stirred when they pulled up to the apartment. Joey gently opened the door and lifted Dave
up and out of the truck and carried him with little difficulty up the stairs
and into the apartment. He laid Dave on
the bed and covered him up. Joey went
to the desk and sat down. He pulled out
a sheet of paper and a pen and began to write:
Dear Dave:
I know I got drunk, and the truth
is, I wasn't thinking. You weren't up
on letting me talk to you, and seeing your brother's gravestone… It scared the hell out of me. I'll never, ever drink again, that I can
promise you. It's stupid,
irresponsible, and I realize that I'm turning into my dad.
Let
me cut to the chase. I fucking hate
myself. I hate what I did to you. I hate what I did to Alex, I hate what I did
to Josh, and Siah, and everyone else I have ever met. I knew, even as a child, that I would never be anything. Never be anyone. My father was right. Anyway, I'm leaving. I don't
know where I am going, but it sure as hell isn't going to be here, where I can
bother everyone. And don't worry. I'm not going to kill myself either. That's the wussy way out. I'm going to live my life out, dealing with
the fact that I will never be anything.
You
can do better than me for a kid. I came
into your life too old, and too late to change. I think that you should settle down with Doctor Chen. She's pretty, young, smart, kind,
sweet… Everything that your children
with her will be. I know that you two
will be good together, and I definitely don't belong in the picture. I love you, though. And I am grateful that you had the heart to
take me in, and love me. I love you,
dad.
Love,
Joseph
Joey
sighed as he folded the letter. He
looked at the plain paper. He thought
of how generous Dave was, and how he was made to feel loved; the way he wanted
to be loved. He had a father, and he
blew his chance. He went into his
bedroom and stripped his clothes. He
picked up the rucksack he had originally came into the ER with on that
day. He began to cry as he remembered
how he felt. How scared and vulnerable
he was. How Dave made him feel safe and
secure in the extremely dangerous life he was living. He went to his closet and rummaged for the clothes that he had
that day. He picked up the Ramones
shirt, and the torn JNCO's he had. He
put them on and rummaged for the duct-taped shoes that he had as well. Joey was dressed the exact way that he was
when he first met Dave. He picked up
the paper again and began to scribble at the end:
P.S. I left the clothes and shoes
that you bought me, and everything else you bought me. Everything you bought me is here, and
whatever you want to do with it is fine with me. I love you, Dave, and wish that I had never crossed your path to
bring you the pain that I did.
Joey
sighed and dug around for the keys he owned. The one for the apartment, the one to Dave's bike-lock, the ones to the
truck, and the one for Dave's locker at work. He used them as a paperweight and shut the door one last time and began
to walk to his new life.
Okay. I don't know why I did something so miserable at a time when I am so
ecstatic! I just finished all three
days of Dance Recital (If you are in the Lockport area, Dyan Mulvey Dance
Academy is a kick ass place to dance. Jazz, Tap, and Hip-Hop are the best!) Okay. Enough with the
advertising. Seriously. I never fell the whole recital! I only forgot part of my Jazz dance on
Thursday night, and I almost lost a tap shoe on Friday night, and Today, I
kicked Ass! Anyway, this isn't the end
of the story, and I haven't decided the rest of the story… Review!
P.S. Three Days until Regents Week! And Even then, I have 2 exams and that is it!!!!!!