Across the Lake
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Chapter 1: The Artist
(Trigger Warnings: Arguing, Abuse, Divorce, Break Up, Mental problems, etc)
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I am an artist. A starving artist. Meaning I'm struggling to get paid for my art. None of my paintings on Etsy are being sold. It's not the easiest thing to sell on any site. It's cheaper to buy those images printed on canvases for less then thirty dollars on Amazon. Mine are original works. Hours of staying up late with a fine thin brush, adding the very last precise details. I have over one hundred original paintings in my shop. Not a single one bought. Not even put in the basket when I have them up for sale.
My paintings sit collecting dust in the corners of my parents' house; now my mom's house. My parents recently divorced. She got the house, but money is now tight. I try to help around the house as much as possible since I have no way of paying the bills. Washing dishes, vacuuming and dusting, cleaning the toilets, etc. My mom always tells me she appreciates it, but I can tell deep down she wishes I had a stable job to help keep our heads above debt. My mom works at two different grocery stores. The Food n' Stuff Store and The Grab n' Go. I prefer Cheap's since they have a book section and cheap art supplies.
It's enough to help me through my college courses and staying ahead of all the assignments. But the classes do get overwhelming at times. A lot of books to buy, multiple projects, and studying for tests. Studying. I am not good at math or science. I was barely passing those. Art was one of the classes I excelled at, but of course, it is the hardest subject to create a career from. Art and writing a book. I've tried writing a book, but no one bought it because it was online and if you were signed into Kindle, you could read it for free, even though it was only $3.00 to purchase. I gave up on writing and started focusing on art. Art was something I had motivation for ever since I was given a set of crayons on my third birthday. And peanut butter when I was four. I drew on the walls a lot with peanut butter according to my mom.
I came home from my last day of college classes, now I was going to take a break and spend my summer at home trying to find a job. I parked my car in the driveway, locked the door behind me, took out my house key and unlocked the door, walking inside the small living room of my mom's house. I saw my mom giggling while talking on the phone. I rolled my eyes and went into my room. I walked down the hallways to the last room and opened the door. Shrugging off my backpack and kicking off my shoes, I climbed into my single size bed and grabbed my half read book from the messy dresser near my bed.
It wasn't until a few minutes later my mom came into my room with a huge smile on her face. That wasn't a good sign. "I have good news!" she declared excitedly. I braced myself.
"Rod is moving in," my mom told me. I felt the blood drain from my face. Rod. Mom's new boyfriend she met online on one of those dating apps you had to pay thirty dollars a month to see old desperate people with a shit ton of baggage: divorced three to five times, losing their hair, super fat and depressed, cheaters, toxic, smokers and drinkers, gang members, Republicans. The list went on. My mom didn't have any baggage, besides being divorced once. At the young age of 57, she still looked beautiful and had nothing weighing her down.
Besides invading our house and using our things, all he does is drink beer and watch football games. A few times when I come home from class, he asks me to get him a beer from the fridge, which is only twenty feet away from the couch. I once told him to get it himself and walked towards my room; only to be intersected by my mom with a glare.
"Say you are sorry to Rod and give him his beer," she would tell me sternly. We would fight until her voice would be louder than mine while shoving a beer can in my hands and pushing me towards Rod's direction. Rage fueled me every time he was in the house. He didn't do anything productive except watch TV and get fat and reek up the house with his body fluids. Seriously, what did she see in this idiot? There were times I wanted to pour rat poison in his food or fill his disgusting car up with all the empty beer cans he left around the house when he stayed the weekends; And guess who always had to pick them up when he left. That's right. Me and my mom.
"I don't understand why you don't like, Rod. He's so nice and caring. He gave me flowers on my birthday..." my mom would go off as we picked up all the trash he left around the living room. Yeah, I have seen him buying flowers from the 99 Cent store one time. Soooo romantic.
"Look what we are doing, mom. We are picking up after your pig boyfriend! Why doesn't he pick up after himself? This is what five year old's do. He's 65!" I nearly shouted.
"64, and he's not a pig" my mom corrected me. "That still doesn't make it better," I grumbled. My mom just sighed as she placed another can in the recycling bag. "You'll understand when you meet your true love," she said, which felt like a punch to the gut.
Just 8 months ago my ex boyfriend, Kennith, had dumped me. Later on I found out he was dating another person behind my back a few weeks before he broke up with me. He was majoring in being a therapist at the same college I was going to. The Science building was way nicer and newer than the art building, which was built in the 60's. Sucky thing about college schools, they never put money towards the college art buildings. All the walls and ceilings were out dated and crumbling. If any natural disaster occurred while we were inside, we would be buried alive under all the rubble and debris.
"Rod is way better then your father," my mom told me, saying 'father' like it was poison to her mouth. I didn't respond. Father, or my dad, had issues when I was growing up. A lot of issues. I think it started when he was a child, born in the late 1950s, when he was beaten up as a kid by his peers, and by his parents for being "stupid." He had dyslexia, and ADHD, and had a stutter when he spoke. Back then, there were no names for what he had, they just called him stupid, or a rebel. His parents thought he was refusing to learn, when in actuality, he was struggling with learning. Thus, he was beaten up by his father. Later on, he developed depression, anxiety, and paranoia; and thanks to my dad, I have anxiety and depression too.
My dad spiraled with all these issues, on top of work and having to raise a family, he couldn't handle it. He would come home angry from a terrible day at work and yell at us. Yell at how he's working more hours then my mom and yet she gets paid more then him. Yells at me for wasting time on the computer or my art. My parents would argue and raise their voices while I escaped into my room and drowned out their shouts with my headphones and play music or play videogames with my online friends.
Years of shouting and yelling caused all of us to be bitter and angry all the time. We were always at each others throats on every little thing. The atmosphere in the house was always tense and stressful. It was only when my mom found out my dad was cheating on her that she kicked him out. I didn't see my dad for three years after that.
After years of therapy, healing, and the stupid long process of filing divorce papers, my mom and I were able to live in peace. It took a long while to get used to what had happened six years ago. That is...until recently. I might need to go into therapy again after learning the terrible news about Rod living here.
"Maybe you just need time to get used to the idea of three people living under the same house again," she suggested. I'd rather live in the dumpster with the trash pandas outside our house, I thought to myself, but I didn't tell her that. "Yeah, and maybe I'll eventually start to like football while I drink cheap beer with my hand down my pants shouting for you to make me a meatball sandwich with a lot of mayo," I said sarcastically, but she laughed. Her disgusting slob of a man reeked of mayo and rotting meat every day. His stink wafted through the whole house in less then fifteen minutes when he came over every Friday. How she had sex with him I'll never know. All I can say is R.I.P. our house toilet.
Once we were done with the beer cans, my mom took the bag outside to the recycling while I went inside to prepare dinner. Since Rod was gone, I wanted to make Mac n Cheese and Ham. I turned on the kitchen fan to air out the kitchen while I pulled out a pot and filled it with water. Then I placed the pot filled with water on the stove and turned on the stove. The blue flames clicked to life under the pot. My mom came back in from outside and kissed me on the side of my head.
"I know Rod is not perfect..." she started.
I have a list, mother, I thought to myself.
"But you shouldn't be so judgmental against him. He never yells at us, and when he gets drunk he's not a mean drunk, and he helps pay for the bills with the extra money he makes from his work."
"He doesn't pick up after himself. He reeks up the house. His job is flipping burgers at a MacRonalds."
"He's going to be manager soon." my mom countered.
"He said the same thing two months ago."
"Why are you fighting me on this? Rod is living here with us. I love him and he loves me."
"Because you can do so much better, mom!"
There was a long pause between us. "...He's better then your father," she said again.
I gave up talking to her and just glared at the pot of water. "It wont boil faster if you just stare at it," she joked, but I wasn't in a joking mood. I just wanted her to leave me alone. I felt something buzz in my pocket and took that as an excuse to walk out of the kitchen and into my room. I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at the text. It was from my dad:
Hey, Kiddo! How's it going?
I hesitated to answer. Why was he texting me out of the blue all the sudden? Before I could decide what to do, he texted me again.
If u aren't doing anything over the summer, I have a cabin that needs help cleaning.
Of course. He wants me to clean his dumb cabin he got from his deceased dad. Most likely going to try living in it. I was going to lie to him and tell him that I was busy, and that I was taking summer classes... but then I stopped. Rod was going to be living with us. I didn't want to live with Rod. I wanted to avoid him as much as possible. In truth, I wanted to avoid everything that was happening in my life right now. I texted my dad back:
Hey dad. I'm not. I can help clean the cabin. But I was wondering if in exchange for cleaning, I could stay in the cabin over the summer? I'm dealing with a lot of things right now and I need a break.
I hesitated before I sent the text. Its been three years since I texted back to him. It felt so weird. Almost like texting a stranger. My dad responded minutes later:
Yeah, that's fine! I just need it cleaned up before the end of the summer. I have a family who wants to rent it out for the year. If you need anything from me, just ask!
I texted back:
Thank you.
Then I added:
When can I start moving in?
...
The next morning I was packing my art supplies, clothes, and books into three suitcases and placing them in the back of my tiny grey Nissan car. My mom stood with Rod on the front porch. His arm around my mom's waist. His other hand around a beer can.
"Do you need any help?" Rod asked.
"I got it," I told him.
"If you ever need to come back, don't hesitate. You are always welcome back," Rod said.
I pushed away the urge to shout. "I'm not leaving forever. I'm just going to be gone for three months," I said while gritting my teeth. Rod took a sip from his beer.
I wanted to already be out of the house.
I looked over at my mom who just had this big smile on her face. I ignored her when she started asking if I had everything.
"Toothbrush?"
"Yes."
"Wallet?"
"Yes."
"Socks?"
"Yes."
"Deodorant?"
"Yes."
"Shoes?"
"Yes."
"Paints?"
"Yes."
"Water?"
"Yes."
"Extra Underwear?"
"Mom..."
She chuckled when Rod started chuckling and I just rolled my eyes. Finally I was ready to go. I was starting to leave when my mom asked me to give her and Rod a hug before I left. I sighed. "Dad is already waiting for me at the cabin," I told her. My mom ignored me, waving me to come back over to her. "Your father can wait. Come over here and give me and Rod a hug."
I suppressed a shudder and a cringe.
I walked over to my mom and wrapped my arms around her. When she broke away, I hesitated to even look at Rod. Rod came in and gave me a big beer reeking bear hug. Beer spilled onto my shirt. I pulled away from him when I felt the cold wet feeling on my back.
"What the hell?!" I cursed angrily. My mom immediately protected Rod. "It was an accident! He didn't mean to!" I shoved Rod away from me. Rage boiling inside. Before Rod could do anything to me, my mom got in between us. "Stop it! Both of you! I don't want either of you fighting anymore! Why can't you get along?" she asked looking at me. I averted my eyes from her. Rod started making wounded pig noises. Of course my mom immediately was there to comfort him.
I took the chance to jump in my car and drive down the street. I heard my mom call out my name, I didn't bother to look at any of the mirrors to see behind me.