Garrett
Past
Newtown, Pennsylvania
Age 7
“GARRETT, DINNER’S READY,” my mother calls from downstairs. I kick over the Lego tower that I was almost done building, watching the pieces fly all around my room. Hundreds of colorful Lego bricks spread across my floor and get stuck in places I know I won’t be able to reach.
“Stupid Legos,” I say and stomp down the stairs.
I climb up onto a stool and rest my elbows on the center island while my mother fills the dinner plate in front of me. Roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and cauliflower. The only thing I like on this plate is the chicken, and I pick at the skin before she’s finished putting the rest of the food on my plate.
“Garrett, can you be patient?” my mother scolds me, but gently.
“Yes, Mom.”
When she’s finished, she fills her own plate with food and covers everything else with tin foil. I don’t know why she’s doing this; Dad never comes home for dinner. In fact, I haven’t seen him in over a week.
She smiles at me and takes a clean plate and utensils out of the cabinet and drawer, setting them neatly next to the warming leftovers.
She pulls her stool around the other side of the island and sits across from me.
“How was school today?” she asks. The same question she asks every single night.
“It was fine.”
I pull the remaining skin off the chicken and drag it through the pile of ketchup on my plate, tossing it into my mouth. “Chicken’s good, Mom.”
“Thank you, sweetie, I know it’s your favorite.”
I finish the chicken and swirl the cauliflower into the mashed potatoes. She’s watching me mess with my food, so she knows I’m not eating it. “Can I be done?” I ask.
“You didn’t eat any of your vegetables. Have at least two pieces of cauliflower and four spoonfuls of potatoes.”
Every night she tries to get me to eat more, especially things that I don’t like. She’s trying to make a deal with me. “How about one and three?” I say.
“No, Garrett, eat what you’re told.”
“Okay, Mom,” I whine.
We both jump when the laundry room door flies open. My father comes in, throwing his briefcase on the floor in the corner of the kitchen.
“Dad!” I say excitedly. I can’t believe he’s home.
He says something I can’t hear and my mother pushes her plate away. She quickly grabs his clean plate and covered meal. “John, thank goodness you’re home.”
He shoots her a look that makes me move around in my seat. He doesn’t look like my dad. He’s a mess and his shirt is untucked.
“I’ll eat later, Claire,” he responds and walks past us through the kitchen and into the den. He smells like smoke.
My mother moves his food back to the top of the stove so it can stay warm. Her lips are tight and her eyes look sad.
I finish everything on my plate, hoping to bring a smile to my mother’s face. She doesn’t notice and takes my empty plate, putting it directly into the dishwasher.
Behind us, in the den, drawers are opening and closing loudly. I hear my father saying bad words beneath his breath.
“Claire, where’s the box I had under the entertainment center?” he calls out angrily.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” my mother responds. She looks worried.
“Goddammit, Claire!” he screams and tears through magazines and books, throwing everything to the floor. “Where are my things?” He’s making a giant mess.
“John, I don’t know!” my mother yells back.
She reaches for my hand and leads me to the stairs. “Garrett, go to your room. Close your door and watch some television.” She kisses my cheek and turns toward the den.
Worried, I walk up the stairs. Loud banging comes from downstairs and my father sounds really angry. I close my door like my mom told me.
I suddenly hear loud noises coming from outside my door. It sounds like my father is running up the stairs. “John, where are you going?” My mother’s voice trails behind him and now they’re in the hallway.
His voice becomes calmer and almost sweeter. “Where’s my money? Please tell me you have that box.”
“How much do you owe this time?” she asks nervously.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says, and I wonder what they’re talking about.
“John, we can’t keep living like this. The last time you owed them money, they took our car.” Who took our car? I don’t remember that.
“I owe them thirty-five thousand,” he says, and my mother lets out a loud gasp.
“How?” she asks.
“The Rutgers game. I thought they would cover the spread. I had so much riding on that game. It would have paid off our debts. We would have had money in the bank for the first time in years.” He sounds upset and my mother starts to cry.
“Thirty-five thousand dollars. John, what the hell were you thinking? We could get help. My parents can help us out. Why are you throwing away our future?”
“If I don’t find that box, we may not have a future, Claire. They threatened to do some major damage this time if I can’t come up with the money.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, and she sounds really upset. I think she’s scared. My heart jumps into my throat and is beating wildly.
“They said that you and Garrett would pay if I couldn’t.”
“Oh my God.” I hear her rush down the hall, into their bedroom, and my father follows. What could happen to us? What would we pay with?
“Daddy? It’s Claire.” She must be on the phone. What’s going on?
I can barely hear her voice now, like she’s far away. About ten minutes later, the door flies open and my father’s voice is strained. “Don’t do this, Claire. Please. It’s all getting taken care of. Your parents are helping. Our lives can go back to normal now.” He’s pleading with her.
“My father will meet you at the diner in thirty minutes with a check to pay off these thugs. After that, I never want to see you in our home again. You will not put our lives in danger, and I refuse to allow our son to be used as a pawn. It’s over, John. Get out of my house.”
“Claire.” His voice begins to shake. “I’m sorry,” he says, and I hear my mom start to cry.
“No you’re not. This is the third time we’ve been in this same situation except now you’ve brought our family into it. Never again. Leave now. Daddy’s expecting you soon. Take what you want because the rest of your things will be in the trash tomorrow.”
She opens my door and I see my father standing in the hallway. I raise my hand slowly and wave goodbye.
She shuts the door and pulls me against her chest. “I’m sorry you heard that, honey. Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”
I hear the front door close and his car start. My father’s gone and I don’t think he’s ever coming home.
“What were you building?” she asks. She’s happy now and she’s smiling. Her eyes look puffy, though.
“A big tower, but it was crooked. I didn’t like it.”
“I can see that.” She laughs and sits down on the floor next to me. “You know, I played with Legos when I was your age and I built some of the greatest towers ever.” She takes a large base piece and begins building a solid foundation. “Pass those red ones over to me.”
She quickly starts to add layer after colorful layer. The tower is almost as tall as I am before I know it. It’s wider at the bottom and smaller at the top. “That’s pretty cool, Mom.”
“It’s perfectly balanced, see?” She leans back. I think she likes her tower.
I take one of the Lego guys and stand him on the top. “Look! A super hero,” I say, and I can hear her taking deep, calming breaths.
“Mom, am I going to see Daddy again?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
“I don’t know, Garrett. I hope so. Now, where’s that Lego Millennium Falcon you got for your birthday?” She looks around the room, trying to find it.
“In my closet,” I say and jump up, excited. I find it on the shelf and bring it back to her. I almost knock over the tower, but she grabs it before it can fall over. She moves it against my bookcase and it looks like it will be okay.
“I’ve always wanted to do this one. They didn’t have it when I was your age. Legos back then were a bit simpler.”
“I guess I’m lucky then, huh?” I say and shrug my shoulders. I wonder what it was like back when my mom was a little girl. I can’t imagine her playing Legos. I only picture dolls and flowers. “Didn’t you have tea parties and stuff back then?”
She says softly, “I was a bit of a tomboy. I played sports with my brothers and didn’t have too much time for dolls.” She has four brothers who are my uncles. They’re all cool, but I barely see them because they live in North Carolina. I have like ten cousins too that I hardly ever see.
“Can I be Darth Vader?” I ask her when we dump the contents of the box onto my rug.
“You can be anything you want, Garrett.” She rubs the back of my head and pulls me against her for a hug. “And I mean that for the rest of your life. You know I’ll support you in anything you want to do,” she says.
“I want to be a garbage man. It’s so cool that they get to drive a big truck!” I exclaim, and Mom laughs.
“That sounds like it would be a lot of fun.” She smiles and begins to separate the bags of Legos. She lines them up in number order.
“Why don’t we try to put together the first two bags tonight, and we’ll work on the rest of it throughout the week.”
I nod. “Yeah, this could take a while and it’s already dark outside.”
She rips open the first bag and dumps out the pieces. I immediately find the figures and assemble Darth Vader, Princess Leia, and Han Solo. There are a few Storm Troopers too.
Mom smiles as she begins to put together the pieces that will make up the Millennium Falcon. I play-fight with the figures. Darth Vader tries to beat up Han Solo, but Princess Leia kicks his butt.
I really enjoy these times with my mom. I just wish my dad could be here too.
Hopefully once those people get their money, he can come home, just like he said.