Idgaf Anymore

Alex “look! Look! Dr Harvey! Look at him! Look at what he’s doing!!” (flipping the bird)

Harvey: boys…boys, please…

Sam: so, like, I was totally like “woah” and, like— Shane, are you still listening?

This came to me as a scene for a grand road-trip fic I’ve been working on. Mystery Bachelor 7 is not invited because I need three older and three younger bachelors for the concept, and I ain’t rewriting shit.

Original sketch:

When Clara was dying, she felt like crying a lot. That is to be expected; no one wants to die of terminal illness before they turn 30. Although, half of the time they were more frustrated tears than sad or scared.

What had she done to piss of Yoba? First, her dad almost died and had nearly all of his joy zapped from him (he was only going to worse). Then she gets introduced to what she thought was a fun, loving guy who was just rough around the edges and had some issues to work through, and they fall in love. Unfortunately, she was so in love with him, he talks her into being a little reckless, and next thing she knows college is out the window. She hesitates to call this a bad thing, because she got something so much more precious than college—her son. Still, finishing college would have been nice. Her diamond in the rough fails out of school (without telling her for two years) and uses that time to get worse with alcohol. Despite all the problems he causes, She tells herself that she loves him and it’s important for her baby to have his daddy, but then one night, she realizes that her son’s number one problem was his daddy! So her marriage just went down the drain and she is the world’s stupidest and worst mother, but you know what? It’s not so bad. She now has a lifetime to focus solely on her son. Except she doesn’t. She’s dying!

It was strange though, when she thought about just herself, she didn’t feel fear of dying. Her grief was more about her parents’ suffering and leaving Alex behind. The closer she got to death the calmer she got. She thought maybe it was the drugs at the time. Being in the afterlife was a lot like being high (something she will pretend to know nothing about when her parents come). She still felt “negative” emotions, but they all had this underlying bit of tranquility. Things lose their edge when you have reached blissful eternity.

It was a strange state. She wasn’t a ghost. She wasn’t following around her loved ones watching every move they make. She was glad. She certainly didn’t need to be having her eyes on her 20 year old son 24/7. And if she had to watch what Poppa was watching all day she’d die again of boredom. She was in a position where she just…knew things. She could feel what they were feeling and see them and be with them without physically looking at them. She was in multiple places at once too. It was hard to describe. She had multiple streams of consciousness but they were all one. She could be “watching” Alex scoop ice cream, Momma pull weeds, and Poppa snore himself awake all while chatting up her grandmother who had died just after giving birth to Momma—she had discovered she really liked synchronized swimming and always wanted to talk about it.

Clara got to meet and unite with all sorts of people. There were family, old friends of her parents, a classmate or two, and lots and lots of pets. Josh wasn’t with her again yet. He still had things to be doing, wrongs to right, that sort of stuff. She wasn’t sure how long he’d be. She didn’t have to do any of that. All she knew was that he better put in the elbow grease when it came to making it up to Alex. She was curious about what was planned.

The worst part about being dead was that she could not go to her loved ones and hold them. Alex’s grief in particular was always there, a weight on her soul like his. She wished she could go to him. Comfort him and tell him how wonderful he was. Kiss away every tear and sing him to sleep just as she done before. Alas, it didn’t work like that. Unless you were the old farmer and had a fancy shrine. He still couldn’t kiss away tears or anything, but he could go tell his grandkid whether he liked what they were doing with the farm. They could also talk about other stuff, but they never did? Clara was a little annoyed with the farmer. She was glad they were being kind to Alex, but she wasn’t sure why they didn’t think to comfort Alex with a mention of the fact they know the afterlife exists! There isn’t some oath to secrecy!

Alex didn’t really feel right anymore. Maybe? Life before was sad and scary a lot, but he had Momma and the kids at school got things better. A lot of them had it even worse than him. They were much nicer at his old schools. Since Momma died he felt sad and angry, and he didn’t like that. It had been two years he had been sad and angry.

He had some fun times in Pelican Town, kind of. He loved Granny and Granpap–Grandpa (Stardew Valley kids thought “Granpappy” was weird and stupid, so he had decided to stop saying it.) He still had Dusty with him. He liked to go and run around on the beach. He was ok friends with some of the kids at school. Haley said she was still his friend, but she was older now though. She was almost a teenager and couldn’t be doing little kiddie games. Now, Alex usually just carried around her stuff and listened to her talk while he petted her carpet or played in the sand. It wasn’t really much fun. Even though, if it were fun, it would still not be super fun because Momma was still dead. That popped up in his head all the time. He’d have an ok time, and then he’d remember she was gone or something would remind him of something scary from when he lived in the city, and his day would be ruined.

Alex once asked Granny when he would stop being sad and angry. She got sad and told him some long story that was really wise sounding, but all Alex could get from it was that he would be sad forever until he died and saw Momma again, but in turn the people on earth would then be sad when he died. Then Alex got mad again because that’s a stupid way of doing things. Alex couldn’t decide whether Yoba was stupid or mean. He once asked Granny what she thought. She told him that little boys shouldn’t be asking questions like that. Then Grandpa whispered to him and said that meant she couldn’t decide either. 

Alex wanted something that could make him feel happy, but also be happy in a way that made him feel better about the things that made him feel sad. He really could not think of anything. There was nothing he could do to make anything that happened better. 

One day, a knock came at the door. This was strange for Pelican Town. Everyone just barged into everyone’s homes all the time. Alex thought this was weird. Granny was always a little nervous when someone they didn’t know came. Grandpa said she was worried that people were going to cause problems with Alex living there even though the government said they could have him (which was dumb they had to say it. His Momma already said that.) They changed his last name to Mullner and everything.

Grandpa had the TV real loud like always, so Alex couldn’t hear who was at the door. Whoever it was, Granny stepped aside to let them in. Alex decided to stand up and go into the kitchen too. Alex couldn’t believe who it was. It was his dad’s dad. He went by “Big Bert” which was big stupid. Alex wanted to leave before he got seen, but it was too late.

“Al! My, you’ve gotten tall. Overtaking your Grandma Mullner here.” he put on this voice that was pretending to be so nice, and it made Alex mad.

“My name is Alex and that’s Granny. And she’s short so that isn’t even hard.” he told him all rudely. And while he was at it (being rude) he decided to lie and claim he didn’t even know who the fat old man was.

“Alex.” Granny was getting upset. She did not like it when he was rude, even to people who were ruder.

“It’s alright. It’s…been a while!” he said to Granny with the same stupid fake smile.

“It’s me, sport! Your grandpa! Don’t you remember me?”

“Grandpa is watching TV in the living room right now.” Alex was not letting him win, and his fake-grandpa’s smile disappeared for a second. That made Alex happy. Granny’s angry look was making him more nervous than happy though.

“Well. I’m your other Grandpa. Grandpa-”

“He knows who you are. It’s just that you aren’t worth a damn to remember.” Grandpa had decided to wheel into the kitchen behind Alex. Granny crossed her arms and shook her head. 

“Hello, George.” Fake-grandpa’s smile was gone now.

“Mr. Mullner. And why are you here?” his Grandpa asked. “Why’d you let him in, Evelyn?”

“I am trying to find that out, George.” Granny did her voice she did when she sounded polite but was telling you she was annoyed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you, I just had something I think you should know.” Fake-grandpa played with his hat in his hands. He looked at Alex all nervous for some reason.

“Go on, spit it out. The boy can hear it.” Grandpa told him.

“Um- Well. We got a call early this morning, and-” he sounded really upset and sighed “I’m sorry. It’s- They found Josh, He- He’s passed on.”

“That’s great news!” Grandpa grinned, “Did he suffer?”

“George!” Granny exclaimed (that meant to say with emotion.) She then grabbed Fake-grandpa’s arm and pulled him outside, shutting the door behind them. Grandpa laughed and wheeled back to his spot in front of the TV, humming the song “Oh, how he lied”. Granny and fake-grandpa went and stood in front of the kitchen window. The window was open a little, so Alex could still hear if he sat next to it. 

“I’m sorry for his insensitivity.” Granny apologized to fake-grandpa. Fake-grandpa was looking around to see if anyone was watching them. No one was outside. 

“I expected it to be honest. I realize that things…are still as they have been.”

“Still,” Granny said, “He should know to have a little more decorum.”

“You are awfully forgiving, Mrs. Mullner.” Fake-grandpa said, “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it.”

“Nothing.” Granny said, “And I wouldn’t call this forgiveness. I call it empathy. I know what it is like to lose a child.”

Alex started to get upset again at the mention of Momma. Fake-grandpa looked very uncomfortable.  He didn’t care that Momma died or about how Alex was alone and missed her! Now he wants people to care about his stupid, evil son who no one ever loved?! Alex felt tears fill up his eyes and got even angrier. He wanted to shout at Fake-grandpa and tell him to go away and tell him he was happy his son was dead. In fact, maybe for once this could be something he was happy about! Someone bad died for once!

Alex slammed the window all the way shut and ran into his room. He thought about how happy he was so he could stop crying. All those mean things his dad said and did were over forever now. He had been mean and terrible and now he was dead. Momma was probably laughing with Yoba. Yoba probably knew he messed up by taking her and decided to do her a favor. Now she was laughing because his dad was going to be punished forever. Just like in the song Grandpa was humming. Alex would sing the song himself (that’s how happy he was), but he had decided not to sing anymore. Some boys at school told him singing was for girls. That honestly didn’t really make sense, but Alex didn’t want to do it anymore anyways.

When it was dinnertime, Alex was determined to get as much of Grandpa's good mood for himself as he could. Granny didn’t talk much. Alex could tell she was still unhappy about how Grandpa had acted. Alex decided to tell her that he agreed with Grandpa:

“You know Granny, Grandpa is right to be happy that my dad is dead. I’m happy too. I wanted to tell his dad, but I didn’t. I should have.”

“Don’t get smart with your grandmother, son,” Grandpa frowned, even though Alex was on his side. “I can speak for myself as an old man. You don’t-”

“No, George.” Granny cut him off, which was weird because Granny didn’t cut people off. Alex was confused and nervous now, “Alex should speak his mind. In fact, it is a good thing he is going to see his other grandparents tomorrow so he can have his chance to tell them what he wants.”

“What?!” Grandpa exclaimed.

Alex felt distressed, (That meant he felt upset) but he didn’t say anything.

“Mr. Hamilton said that they would be showing Josh tomorrow night. It is just for family–they are having a proper memorial later, and he asked if Alex would come. I agreed that it would be good for him.” Granny took another bite of her casserole calmly. Alex and Grandpa did not feel calm.

“That’s crazy, Evelyn.” Grandpa argued. “‘Family’ Those people ain’t any family of his. They just want him there to pretend their son did anything worthwhile with his life.”

“George, I’ve made up my mind. You don’t need to go, but Alex does.”

“It had never crossed my mind, and I think you’re wrong for making the poor boy go.”

“That’s fine.” Granny said as she poured more lemonade into Grandpa’s glass.

Alex kept his mouth shut for the rest of dinner. When it was time for bed, Granny came in. Just to make sure he was cozy and to give him a good night kiss. He was too old for getting tucked in. She rubbed his cheek. 

“Alex, dear, I’m not trying to be cruel by making you go tomorrow. You know that right?”

“Why do I have to go, then?” asked Alex.

“I think it would be good for you to have closure.”

“What does that mean?” 

“Closure?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Closure’ means that you can have an end to a story. You can see and know that he is gone, and you can think of him as something in your past.” Granny explained (that meant she said what it meant.)

“So I don’t have to think about him anymore? Because he’s dead?” Alex liked the sound of that. He never wanted to think about his dad ever again.

“I don’t know if you will not think about him anymore, necessarily. I am sure that would be nice for you, but I think it will be more that you can understand your emotions about him better.”

“I understand my emotions about him already! I hate him, and I am happy he is dead now, and I wish he died a long time ago.” Alex said. He sounded angry. He felt bad about getting angry at Granny. She looked sad.

“I’m sorry, I got mad, Granny.”

“Oh, darling, it’s ok.” she brushed his hair with her hand. She still looked very sad, though  “I know this is going to be upsetting. I wish I could make everything go away, but we have to deal with these things.”

Alex didn’t know for sure if Granny was just talking about his dad or other things too. He didn’t want to ask any more questions, though, so he just nodded. He just wanted Granny to kiss him, and then he would go to sleep.

“Goodnight, my love. Sleep well.” Granny kissed him goodnight. He didn’t sleep well though.

The next morning he tried to sleep in late. Alex never slept in. He always wanted to wake up early so he could be awake more. Maybe he slept in because he was tired or maybe he slept in because he did not want to be awake because then the day would start and then he would have to go see his dad’s dead body. He wanted to do that though because Granny said he’d get “Closer” (which meant he would have an end to the story). Granny woke him up. She joked about how Alex usually was waking her up to make breakfast and now he’d have to get up to ask her to make lunch. 

Later, Alex had to put on a button up and nice pants. He wore the brightest color he had. Granny didn’t say anything about it. She didn’t even try to make him let her put wax in his hair so it stayed “tidy”. Before he left, Grandpa called him over and whispered in his ear:

“Make sure to spit for me, too.”

Alex laughed. Granny didn’t ask what grandpa said to make Alex laugh. She just kissed him goodbye, and then Alex and her left. 

The bus ride to Stardew Springs wasn’t super long. Most of the people in town would go there and Goldbrook (the town right next to it) to get stuff they couldn’t get in Pelican Town, but Alex’s family never did. Even when they had to go to a special doctor or something, Granny would find one somewhere else. Even if they had to go all the way to Zuzu City. 

Alex had never been to a funeral home before. They didn’t have one for Momma. Alex was happy about that. He didn’t want to see people or to see Momma dead. He had been to a memorial before for his friend’s grandma, but that was outside. This was inside a house, but instead of having people living in it, it just had rooms that pretended to be like they were in a house but they actually were just there to put dead people in them. Alex thought that was stupid. He asked Granny about it and she said that funeral homes were like that because people used to show dead people at their house. Alex was glad that didn’t happen anymore. That sounded scary. He also didn’t want to go to his fake-grandparents’ house.

When they got up to the room the man at the door told them to go to, Granny stopped and rubbed Alex’s back. 

“I am going to tell you before we go in. You do not need to go up close to him if you do not want to. We can stand in the back.” she said quietly.

Alex just nodded.

The room was weird. Everything was weird. Alex didn’t really think about anything. He just kept walking forward. He knew that his dad’s family members were staring at him but he didn’t look back. He didn’t care. He just wanted to see the body so he could see his dad was dead and be happy. And spit on his dad’s dead body twice (Once for him and once for Grandpa.)

When he actually looked at the body, he didn’t feel happy or spit. He knew it was his dad, but he looked really, really horrible. Momma looked pretty even when she was very sick because she still looked like Momma. He looked like his dad, but not really either. Maybe that was why Alex was upset, because he looked so ugly. It made sense for him to be ugly, though. He was bad and now he looks bad. 

As Alex looked at his dad, he remembered all sorts of things, but they were not the things he usually remembered. He remembered him alive, not yelling or drinking, just sitting there and being alive. He started thinking about Momma sitting next to him on the couch. She was smiling. He didn’t know why. Why did Momma like him anyway? He was always so rude and made her life harder. Alex thought about how his dad treated his mother. He then thought about how his dad treated him. He treated them differently. Sure he was rude and liked to yell at them both, but he also acted like he liked Momma. He’d do nice things to make her happy sometimes. He made her laugh (even though he wasn’t funny). He was always hugging and kissing her. Even when he was really drunk, he’d grab her like he’d grab him but instead of throwing her to the ground he’d kiss her. (He’d say bad words at her and stomp away if she didn’t kiss him back, though) Still, he never kissed Alex. Not that Alex ever remembered, at least. He hit Alex. Maybe he really did love Momma, and it was only Alex he hated. Maybe Alex is why he was mean to Momma. Momma wouldn’t let him be mean to Alex. Why did Dad hate him though? Alex was his son as much as Momma’s. Momma always said that to him, and he would say “unfortunately.” Why was Alex so bad? Was it all his fault? Would Momma and Dad have been happy if he’d never been born? Maybe Dad wouldn’t have drank and yelled at Momma and made her life hard. He and Momma would have had a better child and he would have loved them. Maybe Alex could have been better, if he got another chance. Momma and Dad would both love him and they’d all be happy as a family, but they never could now. Because she was dead. And now he was too. 

And now Alex felt sad and angry again. This was all wrong. Dad was mean. Alex was supposed to be happy. Why was he not happy? Granny squeezed his shoulder, and he felt tears on his face. This was all wrong!

He tried to run away, but Granny was still holding on to him. She scooped him up against her and they walked towards the back quickly. Alex was crying hard. Dad’s stupid family probably thought he was sad about him being dead, but he wasn’t! He didn’t want to be sad!

They left the room and Granny and him sat on a little couch in the hallway. There must have been tissues on the small table next to them because Granny gave him some and started wiping away tears.

“Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry. I know it’s a lot.” she said to him quietly, “You are very brave for going up there. I am proud of you.”

“I’m not sad! I’m not!” Alex kept saying.

“Alex, it's ok to be upset.” she said as she squeezed his hands. “Your father was a nasty, lying, unfeeling, drunk snake who did terrible things to you-”

“Granny, you can’t say those things!” Alex cried, cutting her off.

“I can! Because I need you to understand despite him being so terrible, you are not!”

Alex tried to slow down his crying to listen to her.

“He was a bitter man who blamed his unhappiness on everyone but himself, but for whatever reason your Momma loved him and had you. She wanted him to be better than he was, and he never could be. But you Alex, you were all she ever could have ever hoped for and more.” Granny's eyes were wet now and Alex’s hand started to hurt a bit, but he didn’t interrupt. ”You feel things, and sometimes you do not understand them because they are just so big. You are a sweet little boy who's been through so many terrible, horrid things. You are not doing anything wrong. You’re confused and scared, and that’s ok. Granny is too. I just need you to understand that you can't just try to make your feelings go away or force them into being what you believe you need to feel. Okay? Can you just let yourself feel things with Granny?”

Alex just nodded. He didn’t want Granny to cry too. He didn’t want to make her sad. He didn’t really know what she wanted him to do. He wondered if she wanted him to tell her all of those thoughts he was thinking before. He didn’t know how, though, so he just moved closer to Granny and let her hug him. She hugged him tight, and although he still felt upset, he felt better. Granny let out a deep breath, so that must’ve worked.

“I’m sorry-” Alex heard a man’s voice say. It was his dad’s father. He looked nervous. Granny cleared her throat and wiped away the wetness in her eye.

“Yes?” she said.

“Ah, we were wondering if Al would like to come see the rest of his family.”

Alex didn’t believe there was more than one person wondering that. He was the only one who had talked to Alex in over two years. He didn’t understand this guy. There were a lot of things he didn’t understand, though, and in that moment he decided his grandfather was on the bottom of his list of things to understand.

“No. Granny and I are going home now.”

He held Granny’s hand and they stood up together. They started walking down the hallway, but Alex stopped. He turned to see his grandfather was still standing there, and said:

“He was very mean to me. I don’t know how I feel about him dying though. My momma would probably be sad, and I’d be sad for her, I think.”

He loved Clara. No one could ever accuse him of not loving her. He wouldn’t let them. He had never laid a hand on her. He wasn’t like that. People probably thought so, but he didn’t. Because he loved her. She was beautiful, soft-spoken, and kind. She understood him like no one else did and forgave him when he drank a little too much and messed up. She was everything a man would ever want. He didn’t know what old Kent’s problem was, he could have gone after her himself but introduced them instead. Then he married Joyride Jodi and knocked her up immediately in true military fashion. Bet he wishes he got blown up in Gotoro.

He and Clara could have had a good life together. She was going to be a music teacher. She would have been good at it–with her sweaters and smiles and sweet voice. She would hand out recorders to kids so they could make their parents suffer. She could have taught them those weird hick songs she used to sing. (He convinced her to leave her dad’s stupid fucking banjo in pelican town. Thank Yoba.) After school, he was going to get a spot on Zephyrs and work his way up to the Blue Socks. They would have been happy, him and her and maybe a few kids (when he was raking it in and she could take care of them full-time) but then, two years into college, she got pregnant. He should have told her that they needed to put it up for adoption. He was stupid not to. They got married quickly after they found out. His parents were pissed. Her dad was extra-pissed, the miserable old cripple always hated him. He probably would have killed him if he found out she was pregnant before they married.

Obviously, she had to drop out. She couldn’t have a baby, a job waitressing (he used to say when she got big enough she could try carrying the tray on her stomach, it always made her laugh) and do school. He tried to keep going. His parents cut him off, but he had his scholarship still. He figured he would keep going until he could get scouted. It sucked ass he had to move out of the fraternity house and miss the parties, though. 

Well, it turns out when your girlfriend becomes your wife and pops out a kid, she has less time to help you study. He didn’t tell her when he flunked out and lost the scholarship. He would just go to the bar across from the frat house and watch the brothers come and go. They didn’t truly know how good they had it. After a reasonable amount of time, he’d come home and hope she didn’t smell the alcohol on his breath. She didn’t have the time to, usually. As soon as he got home it was a quick Hello, how was class? To which he’d lie and say it was fine, and then she would plop the baby in his arms, peck him on the cheek, and rush out the door. I left bottles in the fridge. See you after my shift, Love you! And then, instead of spending time with her, he was stuck with him. 

She let him choose the name. He assumed that in her mind, if she let him name the kid, he would like him better. It sounded like one of the silly ideas she would come up with. He chose Alex, after Alexander Rojos, number 24, short stop for the Blue Socks. 3.7 batting average, 698 career home runs, and an average of 120 RBI a season. He used to imagine standing over the same plate as him, but instead he got stuck with little Alexander George. (The exchange for him getting to choose the first name was that her dad got the middle name.) 

His parents were naturally pissed about the name. They wanted him to be “Albert.” like his dad. Although, they probably would have been pissed if he did name him Albert. They were probably the only people who wanted the kid to exist even less than him. They didn’t like Clara. They were always trying to get him to leave her despite her being the only thing that was keeping him together. He didn’t fully understand what their big problem was. Everyone liked Clara. Clara was extremely likable–a little too likable for her own good. Other men were always sniffing around her. She was always too naive about it, too trusting of guys. It frustrated him, even though he knew she would never cheat on him.

 His parents were snooty about money, so it was probably that they didn’t like her because her father was a dumb red-neck miner, and any money they had now was in part from some workers’ comp or whatever. A bunch of rocks fell on him or some shit. Clara said that’s why he had become such a “sourpuss”. She always had cutesy names for assholes. She probably had a ton for him, that she’d whisper in the kid’s ear as the little shit glared at him for telling him the truth.

That was the other flaw that came with Clara’s kindness. She coddled that kid so damn much. She was sensitive. It could be annoying sometimes but it made sense. She was motherly and soft. However, the kid became even more sensitive. He came out crying and never quit. Clara said that he was just cholicky, but he kept on going past infancy. If he was too cold, if he was too hot, if he lost something, if he lost at something, if something was too loud, if something bad happened in a movie–even to the bad guys, if his socks “felt weird”, if he had no socks, if there was a bug, if you killed the bug he was scared of: the list of things that upset him were endless. He wasn’t just sensitive. As he grew, it became apparent he was also retarded. Because of course he was. You needed to repeat simple directions twenty times. He came up with stupid ideas. He would do the same dumb shit over and over again as if it was going to magically work. He couldn’t even read. To top things all off, the kid didn’t even look like him. He was basically a Miner George Mini-Me with a hint of Clara. The only thing he shared with the kid was his eyes–just the eye color, not the eye shape. The kid really was just a waste of space. A worthless nuisance that had ruined his parents' life.

He believed it was important to be honest to the kid. He could get that she didn’t want him to say the more inconvenient and unpleasant truths out loud, but he couldn’t even call the kid an idiot. The kid could play the game, too. He made sure to cry nice and loud when his “Momma” was around and he heard something he didn’t like. Clara would come and always take the little terror’s side–because they were both sensitive. No wonder things fell apart any time he tried to put the bottle down. The kid made drinking necessary for maintaining sanity.

Luckily, the kid had the brain capacity of a gold fish. So when he was stuck babysitting, he was able to do things his way for once. He knew Clara would have freaked out, but that was only because she didn’t understand that a little spanking and a smack on the head wasn’t anything terrible. It was normal. It had worked forever. Alas, she was oversensitive. She should have listened to him though. The kid behaved more or less when you gave it to him straight. He could be moderately useful with the right motivation. He still fucked up the tasks in some way, but that was to be expected–he was a retard, remember.

Unfortunately, the kid aged–got more irritating and started having an attitude. He had to hit a little harder and yell a little louder to get the point across to the numbskull. It was fine, though. The kid was bigger, he could take it just fine. It toughened him up. Afterall, he wanted to be a gridball player! What a fucking joke. Wouldn’t that be something though. The little shit ruined his old man’s chances at going pro (which were real chances), and then he goes on and lives his little fantasy.

He could barely remember the night the kid ruined it all for good. The sale at the liquor store must have been really fantastic. It was probably the drunkest he’d ever gotten at that point. That was no small accomplishment. He really put in the hours to find new levels of being plastered. He couldn’t recall what the kid said or did. He probably got cocky and tried to hit back. Maybe he thought he could get away with insulting his father. Despite his drunken filter, he did remember the yelling and that awful screeching crying the brat always did. He remembers that stupid little mutt Clara had brought home trying to bite him. He remembered in the moment feeling like he had control of his life again, which was painfully ironic now.

 He then remembers being awoken by Clara’s screaming. He’d never seen her so upset in all their time together: not any of the times he’d lost his temper and yelled something nasty at her or broke something, not when he got a little grabby in the sack and upset her, not any of the times he blew all their money, or got fired, or got mixed up in shit and landed in the ER or the police station. She was always willing to work things out and to let him make it up to her. He guessed he found her limit that night. She even threw something at him. It hurt quite a bit. He got a nasty scratch. (Who knew she could whip something like that? Maybe, in that other world she could have played a little pitcher for him when he was practicing at home. Wouldn’t that have been something to see.) She was sobbing and hysterical. She kept repeating over and over “How could you! How could you do that to our child!” He couldn’t say anything back to try to explain himself, he could barely stand up straight. Getting something thrown at his head hadn’t helped that. 

She had called him from the hospital. He had sobered up enough to hold a conversation by that point, but it wasn’t like it made any difference. She wouldn’t let him talk at all. She told him that he had to get his stuff and get out. That they were done. If he wasn’t gone when they got back she was calling the cops. She told him that he had always loved him and believed the best of him for 10 years and he now had well and fully betrayed her. And that she never wanted to hear his voice again. She got her wish. He picked up what he could and spent the night wandering around the city like a bum. 

His parents were probably happy. He had finally left her.

And then she left him.

The hospital reached him at work. They took their good old time. They only bothered to call her husband after she…after it was over for good. To think, it wasn’t even half a year alone with that parasite and she withered away completely.

He went to see her immediately. He didn’t know why he went. He probably wouldn’t have been able to look at her. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t there to be seen. It was just her parents and the kid. That bastard had the nerve to tell him to stop crying. Wasn’t life just fucking hilarious? He couldn’t say anything back because he knew Miner George would probably pull out a sawn off shotgun and blow him to bits. Although, maybe that wouldn’t have been too bad. 

For the past two years, his “life” has been one drunken blur–even more than before. He hadn’t spoken to his family. He’d rather swallow that shot-gun. He kept having to avoid the stupid government. They probably wanted him to take the damn kid. They’d quickly regret that. The game of life was simple, now. You keep a job for as long as possible (usually a week or two), and then move on to the next. When you run out of jobs in a town, you move to the next. All money goes to a shitty motel and as much piss-water beer and rotgut liquor he could convince some uninterested bartender to give him. It truly was a miracle he’d lasted this long, or more likely a form of divine punishment. 

The worst thing was that although Clara was gone, she never left him alone. She saw her everywhere. He heard her voice and her laugh. Every woman on the street, every singer on the radio, every gentle touch bumping into him: they were all Clara. He would say it was her cruel revenge, but it wasn’t. Clara was never cruel. It would be more like her trying to comfort him, and that was even worse.

Now, the time is 2:00, and the bartender is shoving people out. He tells the guy that he’ll pay his tab tomorrow. They both know he’s lying, but the bartender is too tired to give a shit. He leaves the bar and staggers towards the motel he’s been holed up at. On the way, he feels the tiredness overcome him. He looks over into the alley and sees a cozy enough spot that’s not the main sidewalk. He lays down, just for a few moments to rest his eyes a bit, he thinks. He lays flat on his back, looking up at the stars. As his eyes close, he can feel Clara lying next to him.

For once, Clara liked her job. In a stroke of luck, she had seen it on one of the pages of the paper when they were packing things to move to the new apartment across town.  She jumped on it immediately. At first, Josh him-hawed that it was cutting it close with when his new shift ended, but eventually he realized how excited she was and stopped complaining. It was a little trickier when Alex was in school, but they made it work. They always made it work. And she wouldn’t say it out loud, but she was also happy that Josh having to come home immediately had made it so “the boys” at work couldn’t drag him off to Timmy’s–oh wait, it was Red Hot’s now that Darryl had slept with Timmy’s wife and started a brawl that got Josh a black eye and two bruised ribs. Josh’s drinking was bad enough as it was; it didn’t help that he always seemed to have a new group of work friends worse than the last to drag him into their messes. 

He had behaved much better since she got this job. He still drank more than she liked, but it was at home on the couch where he couldn’t get into trouble. Of course, she still wasn’t happy he was drinking in front of Alex, but she liked to tell herself that he saved the majority of his drinking after Alex went to bed. Either way, she drilled Alex on emergency phone numbers and made sure he was well acquainted with the old couple next door. 

Today, he was running late. She did the mental math, and she didn’t believe he had time to get a drink in, but she wouldn’t know until he showed up. She was cleaning up a spill that a very agitated toddler who no longer wanted his juice box made. His mother was mortified. It wasn’t a big deal; it didn’t get on any instruments or other merchandise. Clara just smiled and said she also had to clean up after a baby at home–and their six-year-old son. That got a laugh from the mom, but Clara felt a little bad about it. It felt as if she were badmouthing Josh behind his back, but he was always the one saying that jokes are just jokes. 

She looked up at the banjo Johnny, her boss, had up for sale on the wall. She was surprised he had it. No one ever showed interest in it. The clientele of the city was definitely not banjo folk. It was beautiful, though: perfectly polished maple with intricate mother of pearl inlays. It was nothing like Poppa’s old banjo. That one was scratched and had mismatched strings through repairs–definitely no mother-of-pearl inlays. She imagined what he’d think of this new one. She didn’t have to think too hard. He’d hate it. He’d say it was too rich for his blood and a banjo like that was for looking at, not playing. Then again, he didn’t really play anymore, since his accident. Sometimes she could convince him to play a song or two for Alex when they visited, but she could tell that something had gone missing in his playing since he played for her as a girl. 

“Oh, Yoba, no. You’re eyeing a banjo.” her tardy husband groaned. She put on an amused smile because she knew he was trying to be funny. Not too amused though, she was still upset.

“You’re late.” she told him. 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Something came up at work.” he came over and kissed her. Whiskey. 

“You splurged on liquor today.”

“Oh, uh” he at least had the decency to look guilty, “I actually didn't. It was on Carson. It was Sparky’s birthday today, so he let us off early and bought us a round.”

She wanted to believe it was just a round. Maybe it was. He didn’t seem drunk. Although he’d been getting better at hiding it: a blessing and a curse. He was frowning now. He was probably to be annoyed that she didn’t respond fast enough to tell him it was all okay.

“It was his birthday, Clara, and Carson was being nice for once. You wanted me to say no?” he hissed. Great, he was getting agitated easily in public. He was at the very least buzzed.

“I didn’t say that Josh. I didn’t say anything. Please, do not hiss at me–especially at work.” she told him calmly. You always had to be calm with him. Getting angry didn’t do anything. It only made him act out worse.

“I wasn’t hissing.” he grumbled. She rubbed his cheek the same way she did with Alex when he was being pouty. Just like Alex, Josh seemed to relax a bit. Dealing with Josh had really prepared her for motherhood.

“Where’s the kid?” he asked, looking around the store. She had to hold back a tut. She hated when he called Alex “the kid.” No use in dealing with that now, though. He already was buzzed and fussy. She didn’t need to worsen that before he watched Alex for the night. She didn’t want her baby having to deal with an overly snippy father.

“He’s in the back. My coworker who just got off, Logan, volunteered to entertain him for me.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“Him, actually. And, yes, he’s a very sweet boy. Alex likes him a lot.”

Josh stiffened. Dear creator.

“A guy volunteered to watch your son?”

“A boy volunteered to watch our son. He’s sixteen, Josh. He’s Johnny’s grandson. He’s waiting for his mom to pick him up and thinks Alex is funny, so he offered to keep an eye on him.”

“He knows you’re married?” asked Josh.

“Yes! He knows! Not that it matters anyway because he is a child!” she let her frustration shine through in her voice. This was absolutely ridiculous.

“Clara, I’m not accusing you of anything. I just think it's weird that a guy wants to watch Alex. I just don’t want him trying to bother you afterwards because he thinks he’s going to get something out of this.” he said, as if what he was saying made any sense.

“I’ll tell you what, Josh. If he comes on to me after this, I’ll make sure to have a talk with his mother, so she can ground him for flirting with a married woman.” she snarked a bit. 

“Alright, I get it.” he put up his hands in defeat. “Sorry I said anything.”

“I prepared the casserole and put it in the fridge. You just have to put it in the oven,” she said, ignoring his little remark and changing the topic.

“Uh, did you write down for how long or something?”

“Yes. I left a note with the instructions on the fridge.” She did her best to not sound annoyed that her fully grown husband needed instructions to heat up a casserole. She was so exhausted today.

“Thanks, babe. You’re the best.” he kissed her temple (and squeezed her ass a bit. He was lucky no one was in the store anymore and she was tired. She would have scolded him.)