My Kind of Crazy - Robin Reul Page 0,45
her hand and says, “I’m glad you’re home, Hank. Your dad got laid off today, and I didn’t want to leave him here alone. Not like this. But I gotta go.”
“He what?” This is so very not good.
“I don’t need you to babysit me,” my dad slurs at Monica. “Don’t you have a pole to twirl around? Stick to what you’re good at.”
She glares at him tight-lipped. “When your father gets drunk, he says a lot of shit he doesn’t mean.”
“Shit I don’t mean?” Dad’s eyes narrow. “Honey, wake up. You wrapping yourself around that pole is what made me notice you in the first place.”
“Dad—” I start to defend Monica even though I know it’s going to piss him off more. Mickey and I were never brave enough to say anything when he talked to our mother that way. I’m not going to make that mistake twice.
My dad does not like being confronted. Especially in front of other people. Even when he knows he’s wrong. He has too much pride to back down. But he has to realize that if he stops giving a shit about everybody else, eventually people will stop giving a shit about him too. I have a feeling this is about to be one of those times.
Dad cranks the TV volume from loud to ear-splitting, ignoring us both. Monica shakes her head. Her mind is already made up.
“Look,” she says to me in a low voice, “I made a tuna casserole. It’s on top of the stove. All you need to do is reheat it in the oven. Just get some food in him to soak up some of that liquor.” She bites back tears. “You take care of yourself, Hank. You’re a good guy. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”
She leans in and gives me a hug. That’s when I notice the suitcase by the door.
Her suitcase.
The green one with rainbow-colored ribbons tied around the handle that’s been sitting in the hall closet for nearly a year, ever since she unofficially moved in.
And it becomes clear that today she is officially moving out.
“What?” I’m seriously hoping I’ve misheard her. “No, Monica, wait. You can’t go!”
I grab her hand as she heads toward the door. I’m frantic at the thought of her leaving. She’s about the only thing keeping Dad sane. Without her, I don’t know what’s going to happen.
“I really care about your dad, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t take how he gets when he drinks. I told him he needs to stop, but lately he doesn’t seem to care about anything or anyone else. And now this. I told him if he wants to be with me, he needs to get his shit together. If he does, he knows where to find me.” Tears run down her cheeks. She angrily brushes them away. “I’m sorry.”
“Look, he doesn’t mean it, Monica. When he sobers up, he’ll be his usual self again. You know that. Please. Stay.” I plead with her, but she’s already got her hand on the doorknob.
“It’ll be okay, Hank.”
And just like that, she’s gone, and I’m standing there, jaw half open, staring at the back side of the door. I contemplate running down the driveway, throwing myself in front of her car, begging her to stay. Part of me wants to get in the car with her and never look back. But I can’t.
I slowly turn to look at my dad and see he’s lost in the television, his eyes at half-mast. If he notices that Monica has left, he doesn’t show it. From the lineup of empties in front of him he’s at least halfway through a six-pack and not showing signs of stopping anytime soon.
Dad belches and brings his beer to his lips for another swig; then he wipes at his mouth with the back of his fist. He grabs the remote and turns the TV down to a semi-normal volume. “Don’t you dare heat that crap. Smells like cat food! I ain’t touching it.”
“What’s going on, Dad?” I ask quietly.
“You heard her. I got fired.”
He starts flipping through channels. Suddenly, the house is filled with the proclamations of someone hawking a blender that does it all: slices, dices, and practically folds your laundry. Dad is riveted.
“Why?” I’m scared to hear his response.
He turns to me with narrowed eyes. “Because the sons of bitches at work set me up is why. And I caught them at their own game. I have a good mind to take