Many thanks to my friend Gayle for her input as well as editing the text! Comments welcome.
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I grew up in a residential community in a small town outside of Boston. Everyone in the area knew one another, and there were plenty of kids my age, so overall it was a pretty great place to be for a kid. Each August, the neighborhood would get together to throw a big block party in the central square for an all-day affair. Kids were allowed to hang out during the day and take part in numerous planned activities, and the adults would party into the evening, long after the children were put to bed.
My name is Ryan and I just finished my sophomore year of college. I had been attending the neighborhood parties for as long as I can remember, and had been allowed to stay late into the night for just the last few. I was pretty amazed at how much alcohol was consumed and how silly some of my usually staid neighbors became, but everyone had fun and nobody got hurt, so what the hell.
I know they say opposites attract, but that did not appear to be the case with my parents. They are both pretty quiet and shy, and have a lot in common physically as well. If you didn't know better, you'd probably think they were brother and sister or maybe cousins.
Dennis, my dad, stands about five foot six and is on the slender side, weighing no more than a hundred and forty pounds. He has the fair hair and blue eyes that run in our family, but sports a mustache that I thought looked a bit silly. Overall he's a pretty decent guy, and I can't recall him raising his voice in anger in years. Sadly, he seemed to live his life without much passion for anything, other than golf that is.
My mom's name is Debbie, and very simply she is a doll. Like my father, she's on the shorter side, standing only five foot two, and keeps trim by watching what see eats and exercising regularly. She has short blonde hair and bright blue eyes that really shine when she smiles, which she does often. I think she's exceptionally cute, and on more than one occasion I've spied my buddies checking her out. She has "girl next-door" or maybe "soccer mom" written all over her, and usually dresses the part. I've never told anyone this, but I've had the hots for her as long as I can remember, and have dreamed about making love to her literally on hundreds of occasions.
I had been looking forward to the block party for weeks as there were a couple families that had recently moved in with girls about my age or a tad younger. I had hoped to get better acquainted with them and maybe sneak one home while Mom and Dad were partying.
There was one thing that could compromise my plan though. Dad tended to drink a bit too much at parties; I think to fit in as he was pretty shy and generally uncomfortable in crowds. As a result, he'd sometimes require a helping hand to get home and would need to be poured into bed. Mom was embarrassed by his behavior, but as he did it only once or twice a year, didn't make a big deal out of it. The previous year I had to walk him home as he babbled my ear off, with Mom in tow right behind us.
The day of the party Mom was dressed smartly as always. She wore a cute yellow sundress which had two thin spaghetti straps over her shoulders and came down to just a couple of inches above her knees. She had on just a hint of makeup, lightly highlighting her natural beauty. Her blonde hair sparkled in the sun as we all took the short walk to the party.
I noticed that my parents did not talk on the way to the gathering, which was not an uncommon event of late. Ever since I'd been home from school, there seemed to be an undercurrent of tension in the house which was hard to escape. My parents never fought in my presence, but they rarely spoke either.
By the time we arrived, the bash was in full swing. There were kids running all over the place and a huge billow of smoke rose from the line of grills at the end of the path. Adults were all around in groups talking and sipping cocktails, enjoying the day.
I milled about with friends from the neighborhood, and kept a keen eye out for the new girls. Time flew by and before I knew it the sun was going down. Most of the children had been sent home, so the party was then largely kids in their late teens and adults. Sadly, the new girls were nowhere in sight. I had not seen my dad for a while, so I thought I'd check on him to make sure he was okay.
I was surprised to find him chatting with Mr. Jacobson, our neighbor from down the street. This I found really odd as the Jacobson family were pretty much the black sheep of our quiet little community and not the type with whom my dad usually associated. Mr. Jacobson was a trucker, and stood at least six feet tall with broad shoulders and chest, looking even larger standing next to my slight father. He had a reputation as a bully and was known to knock back more than a few beers at the local pub quite often. His wife had left him a few years back, but nobody really knew why.
There were two sons in the family as well, and let's just say the apple didn't fall far from the tree. They were not quite as large as their dad, but loved to push around the smaller kids in the neighborhood. They didn't seem to have any other friends and went everywhere together. Edward and Steven were about my age, maybe twenty and eighteen respectively.
I stood back and watched the interplay between my dad and Mr. Jacobson for a while, wondering what on earth the two of them had in common. Dad's eyes looked a bit glassy, so I assumed my fears were justified that he'd enjoyed a few cold ones. At one point I saw Mr. Jacobson drain his beer, and then pat my dad's back, leading him towards the coolers. He pulled out another beer and handed it to my father, then the two toasted and each took a long drink.
Something didn't feel right in my gut, but I figured I should go check on my mom to see how she was doing. I found her hanging out with a few women I knew as her friends, and they were all sipping wine as they chatted. She seemed okay, but when I turned to walk away, something startled me. The Jacobson sons, Edwards and Steven were lurking just in the background, leering at the ladies intently, so I decided to keep an eye on them for a moment. Every now and then they leaned in and whispered to one another as they stared at the women, so I knew something was up.
I kept an eye on Edward and Steve for quite a while, and other than grab another beer they hadn't moved, so I figured it was safe to run and check on my dad for a minute. I found him still alongside Mr. Jacobson, looking more intoxicated than when I had left him only a half hour or so before.
After accessing the situation, I walked up to the two and said hello. Dad responded with a loud, "There's my boy," something I don't think I'd ever heard him say sober. I said hi to Mr. Jacobson and he shook my hand firmly while staring into my eyes, I assumed trying to intimidate me. Dad babbled on for a couple minutes before Mr. Jacobson excused himself for a bathroom break. I thought about taking him home, but Dad appeared to be in enough control to last a while, so I left him and went to find mom again.
In my absence she had moved and it took me a while to locate her. She was talking with our neighbors, Pete and Sandy Scott, who we'd known for ages. I scanned the crowd around her and sure enough, there were the two Jacobson boys not far away, peering towards my mom. Since the ladies she was with previously had all dispersed, it was clear where the boy's interest laid. I had no doubt they were checking out my mom.
Thankfully I had decided not to drink that evening, so my mind was sharp. It seemed weird that big, bad Mr. Jacobson would hang out with my somewhat nerdy dad for so long while his boys we ogling my mother. Suddenly a strange thought ran through my head. They aren't working together, are they? The boys' dad getting my father plastered so they could move in on my mother? It seemed plausible, but highly unlikely and I dismissed it as a useless conspiracy theory. My mom was hot, so I could see guys around my age checking her out, and Dad was a fairly decent guy so maybe Mr. Jacobson really liked him. I was still uneasy so I kept up my watch from a safe distance.
About a half hour later, I felt a strong hand grasp my shoulder. I turned and found Mr. Jacobson standing beside me. "Ryan, your dad's had too much to drink. You better get him home before he makes an ass of himself in front of the entire neighborhood," he said and pointed across the lawn at a small group of people.
I felt ill at ease leaving my mom, but we walked together until we found my dad slumped in a chair, slurring words as he spoke to two guys from down the street. I leaned over and pulled Dad out of the chair and slipped my arm around his back. He looked at me puzzled for a moment, until I announced to the two gentlemen and Mr. Jacobson that it was time for us to go. He complained for a moment but then was silent as we started towards our home.
Mr. Jacobson stopped me for a second and said, "You better stay with him after he passes out. We can't have him choking on his puke."
I just wanted to get Dad home, but I worried about my mom too. He must have sensed it from the look on my face, because he said, "Don't worry about your mom. I'll make sure she gets home safely."
Instantly I knew his intentions were not honorable and the conspiracy theory I pushed aside earlier suddenly seemed more than possible. I knew people rarely if ever choked to death on their own vomit, so I assumed it was simply a ploy to keep me away. I figured I could get Dad to the house and be back in no more than five minutes, so I told him okay and continued leading my dad home.
No sooner were we in the door than I had dad safely on his bed. I stayed just a few minutes when dad began to snore, passed out on the thick comforter. I turned his head to the side just to be safe, and then made a bee line back to the party.
The crowd had thinned out quite a bit, but there were still two dozen or so late-night revelers. I stood behind a large tree and spied my mom in a small group, the three Jacobson men not far away. They seemed to be huddled up as if planning something sinister and a cold sweat formed on my body as I had a sneaky suspicion of what or whom it might involve. Every now and then one would glance over his shoulder in my mom's direction, and then back into the huddle.
I thought about walking over and escorting my mom home, but for some reason I was intrigued with what was going to happen. Deep down, I figured my mind was playing tricks and I was probably blowing things out of proportion, but a nagging ache in the pit of my stomach warned me to be on guard.
As the party wound down, I saw Mr. Jacobson move alongside my mom. Her eyes were glassy, and it wasn't until then that I realized she held a wine glass in her hand pretty much the entire night. She looked a bit nervous standing next to the scourge of the neighborhood, but didn't run away either. He bent down and whispered something in her ear, and she nodded as if she understood whatever he was telling her, and then she scanned the area as if searching for something. I assume she was looking for my dad as Mr. Jacobson may have told her he went home. Fortunately, she didn't see me hiding behind the large maple tree so I was able to surreptitiously continue taking in the action.
The two boys stayed back a few yards and watched their dad with rapt attention. There was clearly something afoot, and my interest was piqued. I watched their father chat with my mom for a few minutes, then he held his hand out as if leading the way and they started off towards our home. I saw Mr. Jacobson nod towards his sons, and they moved off quickly in another direction, but I had a feeling they were not headed to bed.
I followed at a safe distance as Mr. Jacobson escorted my mom towards the greenway that ran between houses towards our road. The trail was lighted but overgrown with trees on both sides, so it was difficult to make them out at times as they passed from shadow to shadow.
