Chapter 3 – There's Something about Marty

Sunday, November 3nd, 1985

McFly Residence

8:55 A.M.

I apologized to Dad when I got home yesterday, and asked if we could go out to dinner. I didn't want to, but it seemed to make him feel a little better. The whole family came. Mom was still upset, and I spent most of the night talking with Linda about her boyfriend Greg. Dave was zoning out almost the whole time, but Dad occasionally chimed up about the restaurant's good service. It was awkward, though I suppose it's good I'm used to that.

So I guess I'm eighteen now. But not really. I won't be eighteen until June. I suppose Doc and I will have our own celebration then. It's fine with me actually. I just sort of wish my family knew that.

It's almost nine o'clock now, and I've been waiting since seven for my parents to leave. They usually play tennis Sunday mornings, but they haven't budged an inch. Dave went in for extra work. I think I'll conduct some of this research in his room. I'm such a younger brother.

I step inside, feeling like James Bond as the door creaks slowly open and I stare. His room is spotless, completely opposite the Dave who unabashedly hung Playboy model posters from all over the walls and ceiling. Weird. I decide to go through his desk drawers first…calculator, baseball cards, past report cards (Hah! He's still an idiot.), and a bag of some sort. I pull it out examining the contents. Why the hell does Dave keep powered sugar in his drawers?

"Marty, your mom and I are going out for a while. We'll be back around four." Dad calls from the hallway.

"Okay, Dad." I shout back, and move the pouch to my other hand.

"Listen when Dave comes back would you mind…" Dad stops, spotting me inside Dave's room with a little scowl. He opens the door, "Mind telling him that we're… what is that?" He stares at the white contents in my hand.

"Yeah, I don't know. I found it in the drawer." I say with a shrug. Dad walks over and examines the powder with skepticism. I watch his face change from curious to a mad furry to a sudden dawning of realization.

"Oh my God…Marty so this, this is why you don't remember…you…oh, Marty." Dad stares at me with wide eyes and disbelief. I raise my eyebrows at him. "What? Hey Dad, are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" He asks, then louder, "Am I OKAY? Marty! I'm not the one taking COCAINE." He shouts, snatching the substance away from my hand. Coke?

"Oh Jesus, that's coke?" I say stupidly. "Hey, I wasn't taking that stuff! I found it in Dave's room! See look he probably has more." I throw open a drawer hurriedly to find nothing but note cards and stencils. Dad shakes his head solemnly.

"Marty, don't lie. This is serious. If you're doing drugs…Oh God," He takes a breath, "Lorraine!" he shouts, and I feel myself begin to panic.

"Hey wait Dad, this isn't what it looks like. I'm not kidding, this is seriously Dave's." Dad looks as if the world has let him down, and mom enters looking a bit frantic.

"Yes, George, what is it? The Templeton's are waiting on us…" Mom says, and frowns as Dad approaches her with the bag.

"This." He says and thrusts the pouch towards her. She lets out a little scream, and turns to me with tears forming in her eyes.

"Marty…why? Haven't we been good parents to you?" She says pathetically. I reach out to her.

"Mom, yes of course you have, that's not mine…I found it in Dave's room." I say sincerely and Mom erupts into a fresh wave of sobs. Dad stares disbelievingly at me, and I can almost see his thoughts: Dave, the young man with a good job and clean room, or Marty the almost high school dropout rocker with the swimsuit model calendar? God, even I can see how screwed I am.

"Marty…I think you should get some help." Dad says, and puts an arm around mom comfortingly. "I'm going to call the local psychologist to see if we can book a few sessions."

"Dad, for the last time, I'm not doing coke! I-I didn't even know what that stuff was!" Dad looks at me sadly.

"It's for your own good, Marty. If you're addicted…it's got to stop. Right now." He abandons mom, taking the bag outside to throw in the garbage.

"Dad you're being unreasonable, I'm not…"

"MARTIN SEAMUS MCFLY, I'm TRYING to protect my family. Is that so unreasonable?" He says and I flinch.

"No, but you just don't understand I wasn't…Dave was—"

"Don't use your brother as an excuse Marty!" Mom says as she dabs at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve, "Oh call the Templeton's honey, we're not going to make it…" Dad breathes heavily, staring at me.

"We're not letting you pull this family apart." He says, and steers Mom gently towards the doorway. He pauses under the doorframe.

"Wait in your room." He says darkly, and directs Mom towards the kitchen. I'm left dazed and speechless, before blindly walking towards my bedroom. I shut the door hard and sit on my bed wondering how many different ways I'm going to kill Dave when he gets back.

I wake up on my stomach, face pressed against my pillow and an arm behind my back. I roll over slowly, blinking back some blurriness to stare at my clock. 11:45 it says. No wait, the clock doesn't talk. I sit up with a jerk and Dave puts a hand on my chest.

"Woah, slow down there. It's just me." He says with a smirk. I scoot back irritated and he takes his hand away.

"Did you tell them?" I ask. "That I'm not the goddamn coke addict?" Dave looks at me like I'm crazy.

"Now why would I want to do that?" He says with a raise of his eyebrows. "Sorry little brother, I've got a promotion at work coming up and there's no way Mom and Dad can find out about this. Keep the secret a little longer, okay?" He stands up to brush imaginary dirt form his pants and I'm seeing red.

"You complete bastard." I say, gritting my teeth. I charge at him, pulling my fist back to punch him in the face. Before my first makes contact, he's looming over me and twisting my arm back. I'm not even facing him anymore.

"So rash," he says, tsking quietly as I struggle to break free. Fuck him, and fuck tall people… basically, "Fuck you." I snarl. He shrugs and pushes me back on the bed.

"Nothing you can really do about it anyway, kiddo." He says. "Shouldn't have been snooping around my room in the first place, huh? That's what you get." I turn around, shouting at him.

"Going in your room without permission is NOWHERE near the level of letting me take the heap for your coke snorting." Dave narrows his eyes at me.

"It is today." He says, and leaves the room. I stare hopelessly at the door in front of me. That's it, I think frantically, I've got to see Doc.