I wake up to the smell of pancakes and syrup. Mom likes warm syrup so she microwaves it and it makes the entire house smell amazing. Breakfast foods always take me back to my childhood when we’d sit together as a family and eat every morning. Mom didn’t work nights back then, so she’d be well rested and still in her pajamas. She loves cats, so most of them were covered in pictures of cats. Dad and I used to go shopping for her birthday and we’d always get her another pair of cat pajamas if we could find them.

I stretch my arms out and yawn as I make my way to the kitchen. It’s Wednesday, and I don’t know how, but I’ve successfully survived three more days of being the front row audience member of TJ hitting on my girl in homeroom. The thought of enduring one more day of this shit—the hand touching, the flirting, the stupid jokes he makes that aren’t even funny—ugh, I don’t know if I can do it.

Yesterday I wore earbuds to drown it out, but I’d have needed a freaking blindfold to avoid all of it. He’s all over her. She seems to like it, too. It blows my mind how she’d fall for a guy like that asshat after dating me. TJ and I couldn’t be more opposite.

And I know we only had one date, so it’s not like we dated, dated. And I know she’s not my girl. But in my heart, she is. At least I want her to be.

I don’t know if she’s read my letter or not. I have to believe that she hasn’t, because I revealed some pretty embarrassing and heartfelt shit in there and I don’t think she’s so cruel as to ignore that.

“I love pancakes,” I say. I give Mom a quick hug to let her know she’s appreciated. She’s wearing her Wal-Mart uniform, not her cat pajamas, and there’s dark circles under her eyes.

“Pancakes are the miracle breakfast food. You know why?” she asks. I hold out my plate and she layers on some pancakes and then hands me a cup filled with warm syrup.

“Why?” I ask.

“They’re cheap as hell,” she says with a snort. She taps the box of pancake mix. “Only two bucks and it lasts a while.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” I set my food on the table and then take out my wallet. I fish for some cash and hold it out to her.

She takes it, turning it over in her hands. “It’s Wednesday. You don’t get paid until Friday.”

“I delivered to some really rich and drunk people last night. They tipped me a hundred dollars.”

“Wow,” she says. “Can you imagine having that kind of money?”

I shake my head. “I even questioned them to make sure they didn’t accidently hand me the hundred instead of like a ten or something. They said nope, that was my tip. I’ve memorized their address so if they order again, I’m going to make sure I do the delivery.”

“Nice,” Mom says, shoving the cash into her pocket. “You’re my little lifesaver, Gavin.”

“I’m taller than you,” I say.

She punches me in the arm. “You know what I mean.”

“What the hell was that?” Dad says. Mom and I both jump. It’s seven in the morning and Dad is never awake this early if he doesn’t have a job.

“Good morning,” Mom says to him in that voice she uses to calm him down. It doesn’t work.

His nostrils flare. “What did you just give her?”

I shrug. “Some extra cash I had.”

“We don’t need your fucking money,” Dad spits out.

“Honey,” Mom says, her voice stern. “Yes, we do. We are desperate for more money and Gavin is just trying to help.”

“What, you think you’re the man of the house now?” Dad walks up to me, getting right in my face. He’s a couple inches shorter than I am, but I’m embarrassed to admit that I still fear him. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my hands clench nervously at my side. He’s my dad, not some random drunk. And he terrifies me.

“I’m just helping,” I say, trying not to sound like a wimp.

He snickers. “You’re a kid. This is my house. You’re not the boss.”

“I never said I was,” I say, taking half a step back to get away from the rancid smell of his breath. “I’m just helping Mom.”

“I will help your mother,” he says, jabbing a finger into my chest. It hurts but I stand tall and refuse to wince. “I am the husband and the father and I am the man around here. You’re just a dumb kid, you got that?”

Behind him, Mom pleads at me with her eyes. She doesn’t want me to make this worse. Normally I’d agree with her, but I can’t keep my mouth shut.

I stand to my full height and peer down at my father. “At least I have a job.”

He hisses. Takes a step back. “You think some after school minimum wage job makes you a man? You’re just a kid.”

He whirls around to face my mother and points an angry finger at her. I rush forward and grab his arm, yanking it back. “Get away from her. She’s more of a man than you are, Dad. She works her ass off and she keeps our bills paid. All you do is drink your life away.”

The slap is hard, quick, and painful. Right across my face.

I blink, unable to interpret for a second. My dad slapped me across the face. I guess that’s better than a punch.

“Get the fuck away from us,” I say, stepping between him and Mom.

“You telling me what to do?” There’s an angry bulging vein in his forehead.

I nod once.

“You can’t tell me what to do, son!”

I hold up my hand and cut off whatever tirade he’s about to go on. “I can. You know why? Because I’m sober. I’m responsible. I’m helping Mom keep our house afloat, keeping food on the table, keeping your precious cable TV connected. And you know what you are?” I say, my voice getting angrier by the moment. “You’re a fucking jobless drunk. You smell like garbage and body odor and you’re a complete waste of space. You call yourself a husband and father but you’re just a drain on the family. You’re not a man in any way. You’re an embarrassment.”

Dad looks like I’ve just slapped him across the face, maybe even worse than that, because I’m the one who got slapped and I’m not showing it. His eyes flit to me and Mom, who is shaking as she stands behind me. He swallows, and then turns around.

Mom and I stand in silence as we watch him grab his cell phone and car keys and then rush out the front door, letting it slam closed behind him. A moment later, his truck starts up and he drives away.

“Where do you think he’s going?” I ask.

Mom lowers her head and stares at the now burnt pancake on the stove. “I don’t know.”

 

*

 

I’m changing into my Magic Mark’s red polo shirt when Mom calls me. I grab my keys and flip off the light in my bedroom. As I predicted, today was another day of misery in homeroom class, only it got worse because I saw TJ walking with Clarissa in the hallway between two classes, despite my best efforts to avoid them. This day has been a complete nightmare and now I’m headed off to work, which I’m growing really sick of.

As I’m making my way out to the car, I answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Gavin.” Mom’s voice is weird. I stop on the front porch, my hand holding the key in the lock.

“Yeah?”

“Guess what?”

“We won the lottery?”

“Not quite, but close.”

I lift an eyebrow. “You sound happy.”

“I am happy. Your dad just called me. He got his roofing job back.”

“He did what?”

Mom laughs. “Can you believe it? That’s where he went this morning when he left. He went straight back to his boss and begged for his job back. And guess what? His boss agreed to rehire him but only if he attends AA meetings.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I say.

“Gavin! Language!” Mom chastises. Then she laughs again. “He just called me and said he spent the day working. He told me he’s not too happy about the AA thing but he’s going to at least try it.”

“Wow… I … don’t know what to say.” This is surreal. Dad actually got his job back. He agreed to attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Is this real life?

“I know, honey. I feel such a huge relief. Maybe Dad can get the help he needs, you know?”

“Yeah,” I say, turning around when I hear the sound of a car engine. Dad pulls into the driveway. “He’s here. I gotta go.”

“Try to be nice, Gavin. He’s trying.”

“I will,” I promise. “Have a good night at work.”

I step off the porch and start walking toward my truck. It’s impossible to avoid Dad because the driveway is only so big. He gets out of his truck.

“Gavin,” he says.

I open my truck door and peer at him. “Dad.”

He frowns. In the sunlight, he looks older than usual, with dark circles under his eyes and wrinkles I haven’t seen before. “Son, I’m sorry about this morning.”

“It’s okay.” I don’t know why I say it, because it’s not okay, not really.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry for a lot of things.”

I nod. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him apologize before.

He sighs. “I got my job back. I’m gonna keep it this time. I promise you.”

I nod again. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.” He gives me a flat sort of smile and then scrubs his hand across his face. “I’m tryin’ kid.” Another sigh. “I’m gonna try.”

That might be the most heartfelt thing he’s ever told me. I meet his gaze. “Thank you, Dad.”

The whole drive to work feels like I’m living in someone else’s life. Someone with a little luck and hope in their future. I keep grinning for no reason when I think about what my dad told me in the driveway, how happy Mom sounded on the phone. Dad getting a job was important but the AA meetings might actually save him. This might be the start of something good for my family. Maybe Dad can heal from his addiction and become a real dad again.

And that’s making me think that maybe other things can heal, too. When I get to work, I head straight to Pete’s office.

“Do you think I could have the weekend off work?”

He shrugs. “Sure. You’ve been working your ass off lately.”

“I think I don’t have to do that anymore,” I say.

“Oh yeah? You got free time now?” he says, though I know he doesn’t really care. He just wants to get back to the game he’s playing on the computer.

I nod anyway. “Yeah. In fact, I think I’m going to help a friend with something I’ve been needing to do for a long time.”