Dreams were hopeless. Goals a total crock of shit. Life did nothing but show me again and again that I was wasting my time believing something good could happen to me in my life.
Nothing good ever happened to the boy whose mama had left him the first chance she got. Whose dad was a sick motherfucker who forced him to watch things no little boy should have to witness. Who grew up pissed off and hurt and defensive. Who knew there was no way he stood a chance at having something normal.
I was sitting on the couch in the dimly lit living room, zoning out as I watched TV. Full House was running on Nickelodeon and yeah, I was watching a channel made for a bunch of preteen girls, but there was nothing else on.
Besides, Full House tapped into all my favorite secret fantasies. The big, happy family who took care of one another no matter what, and even better, this particular family was unique, closer to my story.
Well. Not quite. The show might have had the single dad like mine, but that was where the similarities ended compared to my dear old dad. They had Uncle Jesse and the girls and Joey, and then Jesse married the hot Becky and everything was really coming together then. Pure fantasy stuff at that point, all those people seemingly living together in that giant house. One big, happy family.
Something I had no experience with whatsoever.
The door leading to the garage creaked open and there was my dad, standing in the middle of the kitchen and glancing around the room in disgust. “What the fuck happened in here, boy?”
I winced at the sound of his voice. He sounded drunk. I glanced over the couch and caught a glimpse of him. Red-faced and sneering, hands resting on hips as he surveyed all that he saw. Like the mighty king had come home to lord over his piece-of-shit castle.
“You didn’t clean the kitchen like I told you to,” he bellowed. He was always yelling. I don’t think he realized that after a while, I just tuned him out. It was a lot more effective if he didn’t yell as much, so when he finally did, I knew he was fucking pissed.
But my old man wasn’t that smart.
“I’ll clean it in a minute,” I called, my focus still on the show on the TV. I needed to finish the fantasy, and then I’d wash his damn dirty dishes. Maybe pretending I shared the duty with someone else would help soften the blow. I wished like hell I had siblings. A little brother or sister or even better, an understanding older brother. One who would take me to the park along with his friends so we could all hang out. That would’ve been real nice. Anything would be nicer than what I had.
“Damn it, Will. You need to pay fucking attention for once!” He appeared in front of me like magic, since he was always good at sneaking around. He snapped off the TV with a vicious flick of his wrist and a snarl on his face. I gazed up at him, pissed he ended my show before it was done, but I knew my cue. Rising to my feet, I went to the kitchen without saying a word, grimacing at the piles of dirty dishes in the sink. There were flies buzzing around and everything stunk.
How the fuck long did this shit sit here before he finally asked me to help him clean it?
The door from the garage opened again, and this time a woman entered the kitchen. She looked young, early twenties, I don’t know. I’m not good at judging ages. She was wearing a pair of dirty cutoff denim shorts and a raggedy old pale red T-shirt. No shoes. Dark-haired. Her eyes were big and brown and full of fear.
He probably picked her up behind the bar he liked to frequent. She looked like a damn Dumpster diver, probably some meth whore who was looking to score, and he promised her some drugs in exchange for a blow job.
Dad always knew how to pick them.
“Hey, Aaron. What’s going on in here? Why you yelling?” She rested her hands on her hips, trying to look intimidating, but she couldn’t fool me. I saw the way she shook. She was probably coming down off something.
“No-good boy,” he muttered, waving a hand at me. “He’s useless. Needs someone to keep him in line.”
I barely looked at him. Didn’t let his words hurt me anymore. My skin was tough, thick. My heart was like a steel trap, not allowing a damn thing inside of it. Ever.
I was only thirteen. Took me a few years, but I finally learned how to let his insults roll right off me.
“Oh. I thought you were getting in a fight or something.” She wandered over to the refrigerator and popped open the door, peering inside. “Got any beer?”
Dad walked right up behind her and slapped her on the ass. Hard. She squealed. “No beer for you, bitch. You gotta earn it first.”
Unease crept down my spine, but otherwise I continued to ignore them both, running the water to the hottest temperature I could stand before I started rinsing off the crusted-over dishes. I knew what my dad was talking about when it came to earning it. The women he brought home were so stupid. They seemed to fall for his lines every single time. It was unbelievable, how much power the asshole could hold over a woman.
Were women that stupid? Not all women could be. Were they? My mother got the hell out so that was smart, but she left me behind, which rendered her stupid in my book.
So fuck that. They were all worthless. Just like my dad said.
“Earn it how, hmm?” the woman asked, her voice low and flirty-like. I’m guessing she thought Dad liked it when she talked that way. Me? I sort of wanted to puke.
“You know how, darlin’. Now let’s go to my room and you can show me all the ways you appreciate me.” His head snapped up, his gaze latching onto mine. I tried to look away, but it was like I couldn’t. I was paralyzed with fear. “You should come, too, Willy.”
I went still, the hot water flowing over my hands, making them burn. I hardly felt it. “No.” Please God, no. “I have to finish washing the dishes.”
“They can wait.” He waved a hand and glanced down at the woman, who was watching me with a mixture of fear and excitement in her eyes. I’d never seen this woman before in my life. I hoped after this was done, I’d never see her again. “Come on, Willy. We like it when you watch.”
I shut off the water and followed after him, my head hanging down. I thought of Uncle Jesse and Danny Tanner and DJ, Stephanie and Michelle on Full House. They wouldn’t do this sort of shit. No one would ever make them do something so awful. But I guessed all that stuff really was just fantasies.
Dreams.