"You're not my son anymore and I'm not your father anymore." Dad said bluntly through the last of his eggs and toast.
"So what did I do this time?" I asked.
"You've been a terrible influence on Jon. He keeps cutting class and going to the mall. And the music. Same crap that you listen to," Dad said. He scraped the yellow off his plate.
"That's not my fault. If you would..." I stammered
"If I would what son? If I would let him follow the same path to hell? How is that better? Do you want him to go to hell like you?" he nearly shouted. People at the diner started to look at him.
"No," I said.
"It's better this way. You can keep doing whatever you want. I will straighten Jon out," my father said as he ate the crust of his toast. "Jon keeps skipping Church and he hasn't been to a bible study in ages. That's your doing."
"That bible study is crap," I said. "Old Hilda loses her place constantly. Hell, she even fell asleep the last time I went."
"You should be ashamed. Your own mother is ashamed of how you dress and how you act. How do you get a job when you look like that?" He motioned at my studded leather jacket and piercings.
"I'll think of something," I said.
"Also, Mrs. Harrison doesn't want you around Chloe anymore. She says you're a bad influence. I agree," Dad said.
"Mrs. Harrison is a tweaker and Chloe steps over her in the hallway every morning," I said.
"Watch it," he pointed sharply at my forehead. "She's still Chloe's mom and she still decides who Chloe hangs out with."
"Fine," I said. "Fine. We'll leave tomorrow." I shrugged. Delores quietly put a coffee at my place. I whisper thanks to her.
"No. You. You by yourself today," Dad corrected.
"But..."
"No buts. Mrs. Harrison agrees. If you take Chloe with you, she'll file kidnapping charges and I will keep Jon out of school," Dad said.
"That's bullshit. You're a monster!" I said. I slammed the coffee cup down. The old couple next to us gave me a very dirty look. Delores looked over worried.
"No. I'm doing what's right for my family. Which you're no longer a part of," he said. "You're making a scene."
I got up. I saw his smirk. I reached across the table and punched him square in the face. Dishes clattered as they fell off the table. The entire restaurant went quiet and looked at us.
"That's for every time you hit us," I yelled.
Dad was in shock. He felt the bruise that was starting to form. He looked around at the people staring at us. "You're dead to me. Go away and never come back." He growled at the elderly couple next to us. "Go back to your dinner."
I shook my head, and walked towards the exit. Delores gives me a quick hug as I walk out. "Take care sweetie and be strong," she says. I hug her back and walk out of the diner.
The sun is just over the horizon. Orange streaks light up the blue, gray dawn. It's cool for summer. I walk down along the road to the convenience store. I walk into the dirty store and change a dollar for quarters. I go outside to the payphone and dial Michael.
***
"And that's when you called me to pick you up," Michael says as he walks over in the bar. Chloe and Jon look over their drink at him surprised. "I picked Garrett up at the dairy bar and drove him to the bus station. I asked him if he wanted to get you, Chloe, and he refused. You looked absolutely devastated Garrett."
"I guess I still owe you for bus fair," I said as Chloe held my hand and Jon patted my shoulder.
"And oh about five beers!" Michael said as we laughed through our tears.
Chloe said, "I always thought that you ran away and left me. I was fucking furious with you dude. I waited a year. I wrote letters, I asked around, I beat Michael with a hot poker."
"Ouch," Michael winced at the memory. Chloe must have been rough on him.
I said, "When did you give up hope?"
Chloe said, "About the time that mom OD'd. I had to move past all the shit we grew up with. I ran away to New York to get my head right. When I was passing back through, I found that Jon was gone and your dad was dying. I met Lane and stayed longer than I planned."
"Jesus," I said. "I figured you never left."
"You weren't the only one who needed to run away Garrett," Chloe said.
"I'm sorry," I say. "I just..."
"Had to flee your abusive fuck of a father to protect your little brother?" Jon finished.
"Right," I said.
Chloe looked at her watch. "Aren't we supposed to be at your parent's at one o'clock guys?"
"Shit," I say. We give Michael a hug and leave.
We rolled up to my parents' ranch house in the Charger rental. Jon sat in the back like the old times. The gray siding was fading. The grass, brown. Dad was always meticulous about the lawn. He called it his pride and joy. Jon and I weren't. The few people who came back from the funeral were starting to leave. The remaining cars lined both ends of the suburban street.
Chloe looked at us, "Are you sure you want to go in?"
I shrug. We get out of the Charger and walk in the front door. We walk into the old tiled entryway. The dining room - preserved like an untouched pickle - is to the right. To the left is the parlor. The parlor is full of people for the first time in twenty years. Aged relatives sit on the fleshy chairs with cups and saucers.
"I just can't believe he's passed," cackles an old lady.
"Father John isn't a spring chicken either. He could barely hold his arms up for the benediction last week," another gossips. "They don't make priests anymore."
"He was our grumpy old man," says an older man.
My cousin Jenna and Aunt Janice are in the corner. Aunt Janice in her felt black dress motions me over. I walk over with Chloe.
"Is this your lovely wife?" Aunt Janice asks while Jenna watches.
"No," I say. "Chloe and I were high school friends."
"Oh, so this is the little minx. Funny, you don't look like a trouble maker," Aunt Janice said.
When we were young, Chloe would have slapped Aunt Janice enough to make her eyes roll. Instead Chloe merely replied, "You must be Aunt Janice. Garrett told me that you were a cunt. He was right."
Aunt Janice grimaced. Jenna's mouth flew open and closed again. They looked at each other and shook their heads in rhythm.
"Excuse us," Jenna said. "It was lovely to see you both," and they turned away in disgust.
"Chloe, please," I said as Aunt Janice and Jenna retreated.
We went out onto the back deck. Mom had set out sodas, waters, and a few bottles of wine. Nobody wanted to touch the wine. Drinking would be against God. Not having wine, though, would be bad hospitality. Jon and Chloe popped two bottles open. Cheap, grocery store screw top.
"Well, it's going to get thrown out anyways. Might as well drink it," Jon said philosophically. "Don't want it to go to waste." We sat down on the rusty wrought iron furniture. Nobody else was out - it was too hot. At least we wouldn't be bothered.
We clinked glasses and took a sip. Before we could even get to the second sip, Mom came out the sliding glass door, "I wondered where you boys were! Imagine all the years you have to catch up on! And Chloe, what a nice surprise! I really like that dress. Well, you keep going here. I'll keep the natives at bay."
With that, Mom turned into the house.
"Oh good. She's back to Happy Mom again," Jon said as he sipped his wine.
"Yes. Enjoy it while it lasts. Give it an hour and we'll either get Sad Mom or Angry Mom," I said.
"Or until she hears what I called your Aunt Janice," Chloe said.
"She had that coming to her," Jon said. "You're not supposed to aspire to be the mean aunt in any story."
Chloe laughed. "Well, now that I drove away your relatives, you can tell me about what happened when you got to LA."
I started, "I walked off the Greyhound in the hot LA sun. I didn't even have a duffel bag to my name. I had Michael's forty bucks and the clothes on my back. "
***
The sun was unbearably bright and no clouds in the blue California sky. Every Greyhound stations is in the pit of the city. Los Angeles' was no different. The only reason I knew I was in California was the scraggly palm trees near the station.
I walked out of the station with nowhere to go. How do I eat? Where do I live? Bums walked the streets. So did I. I was a bum now.
I got two hot dogs and a soda from a convenience store. I went to sit down in front of it. The owner told me to shove off. I wandered about lost in the glaring sun.
I walked past the abandoned offices and closed shops. A severe looking reverend pointed me to a shelter. I started to head that way. I didn't know how to be homeless.
I spent that night in a shelter in a bunk. Rows and rows of men sleeping in bunk beds. Two fights broke out over space. I was offered drugs I never heard of.
The next day I started to beg on a corner with a cardboard sign.
Police kept telling me to move on.
A woman in a black Caddie spat on me.
I made a paltry three dollars. Enough for two hot dogs and a soda. Not enough to live on.
I spent another night in the shelter. I couldn't sleep. Too much noise, too many disturbances.
