the neighborhood didn’t lose curb appeal. Their requests had made my temper flare. I had enough on my plate with my father’s ailing health and my useless little brother causing trouble and needing handouts every second week. The last thing I needed was pressure from neighbors who were concerned about aesthetics.
I’d told them we’d sell the house soon and developers would likely come in, tear it down, flatten the lot, and build something new and shiny that would make their forty-year-old houses look like eye sores.
None of the neighbors had taken too kindly to that comment. I hadn’t really given a shit. They’d poked the bear and the last thing I had energy for was pussyfooting around their feelings.
To be fair, the house was looking especially bad, and if I lived across the street from it, I wouldn’t want to wake up and look at it every morning.
With a tired sigh, I began making my way up the driveway to the front door. I knocked, stood back, and waited with my hands in my pockets for Mike to answer it.
He didn’t.
“Great,” I mumbled as I reached out and tried the handle.
It was unlocked.
Shaking my head, I pushed inside and stopped in the small foyer that led down a narrow hallway to the back of the house where the kitchen was. To my left was an open doorway exposing the living room, and to my right was another doorway leading to a dining room that was currently being used for hoarding-style storage. The table was completely hidden beneath boxes, newspapers, and generic shit. The beige carpets were dark and stained from my father’s years of smoking in the house. Somehow, it smelled like wet dog in there, even though my father hadn’t owned a dog in over a decade.
My brother was passed out on the mint green sofa in the middle of the living room. The television was on, playing the news, but the voices of the reporters were muted. A couple of beer bottles littered the dirty carpet and I wondered what kind of bender my brother had been on last night.
I moved into the living room and kicked my brother’s foot to wake him up.
Mike sat up with a loud snort and gripped the armrest. “What? Who’s there? Pete?”
“Good morning.”
Mike rubbed the back of his neck and looked around the living room. If he realized how deplorable it was, he didn’t say anything. “When did you get into town?”
“Two nights ago. For a wedding.”
Mike frowned. He looked the same as ever. Shaggy, disheveled, and in need of a hot shower. “A wedding? Whose?”
“Friends. You wouldn’t know them.”
“You came all the way back to LA for a wedding but you wouldn’t come see me or dad?”
I shrugged. “Yeah.”
Mike rolled his eyes and slumped into the back of the sofa with an incredulous laugh. “My brother, the stand-up family man, huh?”
I arched an eyebrow. Every fiber of my being wanted to lay into him and tell him how much work I’d put in to get dad into his home and how long I’d been his primary caregiver, but I knew it would fall on deaf ears, and even if Mike understood, he’d take it the wrong way.
So I let it lie. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” I asked.
Mike looked me up and down. “Yeah, I suppose you are. What do you want then?”
“I wanted to make peace and go see Dad. Together. Me and you. Like we should have done a long time ago.”
“I’ve seen him.”
“When?”
Mike scratched his stubbly chin. “Uh, I don’t know. A week ago maybe.”
“Don’t lie, Mike. I know you haven’t been by the home. Neither have I. Not since before I left obviously. But it’s time we get our shit together and go see him. Regardless of how difficult it is.”
Mike licked his lips. “I don’t like that place. It’s sad, man.”
“Yeah, well, it could be worse.”
“How?”
“We could be one of the patients who doesn’t get to leave after the end of the visit. Now go have a shower. And put some clean clothes on for fuck sakes.”
Mike looked down at himself and smiled bashfully. “I am a bit of a mess, aren’t I?”
“A bit?”
Mike got to his feet and rolled his eyes at me. “Give me a break, bro. Not all of us have our shit together and can run off to a tropical island and come back looking all tanned and sleek in new clothes. All right?”