Sam had learned to give John a wide berth on nights like this. When John had a good long chat with his buddies: Johnie, Hennessy and Jack. As far away as possible, listening to the occasional thud or muffled curse from the living room until the apartment finally went quiet.
But tonight, it’s was different. He told himself he was just checking, just making sure his dad hadn’t choked on his own vomit. The living room was ugly and dim, lit only by the cold blue flicker of the muted TV.
John was on the floor. He was curled on his side in the small space between the couch and the coffee table, one arm tucked awkwardly beneath him, the other splayed out on the cold hardwood. He looked less like a man and more like an abandoned child, a miserable and devastatingly alone.
Sam’s fear evaporated, replaced by a weary, familiar sigh.
"Alright, c’mon," Sam muttered, more to himself. He bent down, hooking his hands under John’s arms. "Let me get you back on the couch."
He grunted, trying to haul the dead weight upward. John was a solid mass of muscle and bone, impossible to move. "Ugh, if you could just help me out here…"
Then John moved. His hand shot out. Sam expected to be pushed away, but instead John pulled him closer. His grip was strong and not the clumsy fumble of a drunk.
John shifted, pushing himself up onto his knees in one fluid motion that seemed impossible for someone who had moments ago been dead weight. He looked up at Sam. His eyes, which should have been glassy and unfocused, were clear. Piercingly clear.
And then John’s arms went around Sam’s waist. It was an embrace. He pulled Sam closer, resting his forehead against Sam’s soft belly.
In the dim light, Sam couldn’t see clear, but he was sure dad’s expression wasn’t angry or strange.
The old man looked up and met Sam’s gaze. John knew that look, it’s the same one his wife used to give him. Disappointment, the heartbreak of someone who had expected better and was slowly realizing they would never get it from you.
John’s lips moved, forming words that were barely a whisper in the silent room. Sam leaned closer to hear, his heart pounding a frantic, confused rhythm.
“Sammy…” John breathed, his voice cracking on the name. “Why… why do you want to leave me too?”
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