Going Home Ch. 04

"You're not my son anymore and I'm not your father anymore." Dad said bluntly through the last of his eggs and toast.

"So what did I do this time?" I asked.

"You've been a terrible influence on Jon. He keeps cutting class and going to the mall. And the music. Same crap that you listen to," Dad said. He scraped the yellow off his plate.

"That's not my fault. If you would..." I stammered

"If I would what son? If I would let him follow the same path to hell? How is that better? Do you want him to go to hell like you?" he nearly shouted. People at the diner started to look at him.

"No," I said.

"It's better this way. You can keep doing whatever you want. I will straighten Jon out," my father said as he ate the crust of his toast. "Jon keeps skipping Church and he hasn't been to a bible study in ages. That's your doing."

"That bible study is crap," I said. "Old Hilda loses her place constantly. Hell, she even fell asleep the last time I went."

"You should be ashamed. Your own mother is ashamed of how you dress and how you act. How do you get a job when you look like that?" He motioned at my studded leather jacket and piercings.

"I'll think of something," I said.

"Also, Mrs. Harrison doesn't want you around Chloe anymore. She says you're a bad influence. I agree," Dad said.

"Mrs. Harrison is a tweaker and Chloe steps over her in the hallway every morning," I said.

"Watch it," he pointed sharply at my forehead. "She's still Chloe's mom and she still decides who Chloe hangs out with."

"Fine," I said. "Fine. We'll leave tomorrow." I shrugged. Delores quietly put a coffee at my place. I whisper thanks to her.

"No. You. You by yourself today," Dad corrected.

"But..."

"No buts. Mrs. Harrison agrees. If you take Chloe with you, she'll file kidnapping charges and I will keep Jon out of school," Dad said.

"That's bullshit. You're a monster!" I said. I slammed the coffee cup down. The old couple next to us gave me a very dirty look. Delores looked over worried.

"No. I'm doing what's right for my family. Which you're no longer a part of," he said. "You're making a scene."

I got up. I saw his smirk. I reached across the table and punched him square in the face. Dishes clattered as they fell off the table. The entire restaurant went quiet and looked at us.

"That's for every time you hit us," I yelled.

Dad was in shock. He felt the bruise that was starting to form. He looked around at the people staring at us. "You're dead to me. Go away and never come back." He growled at the elderly couple next to us. "Go back to your dinner."

I shook my head, and walked towards the exit. Delores gives me a quick hug as I walk out. "Take care sweetie and be strong," she says. I hug her back and walk out of the diner.

The sun is just over the horizon. Orange streaks light up the blue, gray dawn. It's cool for summer. I walk down along the road to the convenience store. I walk into the dirty store and change a dollar for quarters. I go outside to the payphone and dial Michael.

***

"And that's when you called me to pick you up," Michael says as he walks over in the bar. Chloe and Jon look over their drink at him surprised. "I picked Garrett up at the dairy bar and drove him to the bus station. I asked him if he wanted to get you, Chloe, and he refused. You looked absolutely devastated Garrett."

"I guess I still owe you for bus fair," I said as Chloe held my hand and Jon patted my shoulder.

"And oh about five beers!" Michael said as we laughed through our tears.

Chloe said, "I always thought that you ran away and left me. I was fucking furious with you dude. I waited a year. I wrote letters, I asked around, I beat Michael with a hot poker."

"Ouch," Michael winced at the memory. Chloe must have been rough on him.

I said, "When did you give up hope?"

Chloe said, "About the time that mom OD'd. I had to move past all the shit we grew up with. I ran away to New York to get my head right. When I was passing back through, I found that Jon was gone and your dad was dying. I met Lane and stayed longer than I planned."

"Jesus," I said. "I figured you never left."

"You weren't the only one who needed to run away Garrett," Chloe said.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I just..."

"Had to flee your abusive fuck of a father to protect your little brother?" Jon finished.

"Right," I said.

Chloe looked at her watch. "Aren't we supposed to be at your parent's at one o'clock guys?"

"Shit," I say. We give Michael a hug and leave.

We rolled up to my parents' ranch house in the Charger rental. Jon sat in the back like the old times. The gray siding was fading. The grass, brown. Dad was always meticulous about the lawn. He called it his pride and joy. Jon and I weren't. The few people who came back from the funeral were starting to leave. The remaining cars lined both ends of the suburban street.

Chloe looked at us, "Are you sure you want to go in?"

I shrug. We get out of the Charger and walk in the front door. We walk into the old tiled entryway. The dining room - preserved like an untouched pickle - is to the right. To the left is the parlor. The parlor is full of people for the first time in twenty years. Aged relatives sit on the fleshy chairs with cups and saucers.

"I just can't believe he's passed," cackles an old lady.

"Father John isn't a spring chicken either. He could barely hold his arms up for the benediction last week," another gossips. "They don't make priests anymore."

"He was our grumpy old man," says an older man.

My cousin Jenna and Aunt Janice are in the corner. Aunt Janice in her felt black dress motions me over. I walk over with Chloe.

"Is this your lovely wife?" Aunt Janice asks while Jenna watches.

"No," I say. "Chloe and I were high school friends."

"Oh, so this is the little minx. Funny, you don't look like a trouble maker," Aunt Janice said.

When we were young, Chloe would have slapped Aunt Janice enough to make her eyes roll. Instead Chloe merely replied, "You must be Aunt Janice. Garrett told me that you were a cunt. He was right."

Aunt Janice grimaced. Jenna's mouth flew open and closed again. They looked at each other and shook their heads in rhythm.

"Excuse us," Jenna said. "It was lovely to see you both," and they turned away in disgust.

"Chloe, please," I said as Aunt Janice and Jenna retreated.

We went out onto the back deck. Mom had set out sodas, waters, and a few bottles of wine. Nobody wanted to touch the wine. Drinking would be against God. Not having wine, though, would be bad hospitality. Jon and Chloe popped two bottles open. Cheap, grocery store screw top.

"Well, it's going to get thrown out anyways. Might as well drink it," Jon said philosophically. "Don't want it to go to waste." We sat down on the rusty wrought iron furniture. Nobody else was out - it was too hot. At least we wouldn't be bothered.

We clinked glasses and took a sip. Before we could even get to the second sip, Mom came out the sliding glass door, "I wondered where you boys were! Imagine all the years you have to catch up on! And Chloe, what a nice surprise! I really like that dress. Well, you keep going here. I'll keep the natives at bay."

With that, Mom turned into the house.

"Oh good. She's back to Happy Mom again," Jon said as he sipped his wine.

"Yes. Enjoy it while it lasts. Give it an hour and we'll either get Sad Mom or Angry Mom," I said.

"Or until she hears what I called your Aunt Janice," Chloe said.

"She had that coming to her," Jon said. "You're not supposed to aspire to be the mean aunt in any story."

Chloe laughed. "Well, now that I drove away your relatives, you can tell me about what happened when you got to LA."

I started, "I walked off the Greyhound in the hot LA sun. I didn't even have a duffel bag to my name. I had Michael's forty bucks and the clothes on my back. "

***

The sun was unbearably bright and no clouds in the blue California sky. Every Greyhound stations is in the pit of the city. Los Angeles' was no different. The only reason I knew I was in California was the scraggly palm trees near the station.

I walked out of the station with nowhere to go. How do I eat? Where do I live? Bums walked the streets. So did I. I was a bum now.

I got two hot dogs and a soda from a convenience store. I went to sit down in front of it. The owner told me to shove off. I wandered about lost in the glaring sun.

I walked past the abandoned offices and closed shops. A severe looking reverend pointed me to a shelter. I started to head that way. I didn't know how to be homeless.

I spent that night in a shelter in a bunk. Rows and rows of men sleeping in bunk beds. Two fights broke out over space. I was offered drugs I never heard of.

The next day I started to beg on a corner with a cardboard sign.

Police kept telling me to move on.

A woman in a black Caddie spat on me.

I made a paltry three dollars. Enough for two hot dogs and a soda. Not enough to live on.

I spent another night in the shelter. I couldn't sleep. Too much noise, too many disturbances.

Each day was a repeat of the first. Walking around and begging.

One day, I begged enough to buy a cheap bottle of whisky. That night on my way to the shelter, a scrawny man with gray whips of hair under a ball cap jumped from behind a corner. He brandished a knife at me. He told me to give up the bottle. I could smell the plastic vodka on his breath. I gave it to him.

The next day while begging, an old black man in denim and a green ballcap saw me. "Aw son. Why the face?"

"I got off the bus a week ago," I said. "Nowhere to go I guess."

"You got a place to stay?" Maurice asked. "A friend? Family?"

"No," I said. "No money either."

"You gonna have to walk with old Maurice then," Maurice replied. "Heh heh. You're crazy son for going to California. Not many angels here. You're not a hippie are you?"

"No, not a hippie. Crazy is about right," I said. Hippies were passe. Maurice didn't care though. Maurice thought hippies were horrible people. Years later I found out that Maurice moved to California in the summer of love.

"Well, if you're not a hippie, then let's have a bite. I'm buying." Maurice said. Maurice ambled like the old man he was. We went into a greasy burger joint.

Maurice ordered as he walked to his booth, "Zelda - two burgers for sonny and the usual for me."

Zelda replied, "Sure thing Maurice. Just have a seat like you do." Zelda was a bustling woman in her forties. Zelda brought burgers for us both. I devoured them and half of Maurice's fries.

"Geeze, not so fast. Zelda will expect you to eat more!" Maurice said.

"I'm going to eat more. These are the best burgers I ever ate," I said.

"You're hungry. Nobody else likes these burgers!" Maurice said. Zelda brought two more burgers for me and hit Maurice three times with the menu she was carrying. I laughed at him.

"So why'd you move to California out of all the choices?" Maurice asked.

"I thought they had pretty women here and I'd be an instant movie star!" I said.

Maurice laughed hard and slapped his knee. He did that when he was really amused.

"Kids these days. Not so smart. And they stink too. Zelda tell him he stinks. Lord do you need a shower. You're coming back to my place," Maurice said. "No argument."

"You do need a shower," Zelda said.

Pride wanted me to tell him no, but I knew this chance was the one. Maurice was the first person to look at me like a person. So I went to Maurice's and took a shower. I stayed there that night and many nights after. Even when I had enough money, I stayed. Maurice became the father I needed and I became the son he never had.

***

Jon broke the silence. "Maurice sounds like a really good man."

"He is. He's not getting so good. He's nearby Sarah and I in an old person home, but I still take him out to have burgers at Zelda's. It's not called Zelda's but that's who's always there," I said.

Chloe asks, "So how did you meet Sarah? Did Maurice set you up? I bet he set you up."

"Not quite," I said.

Before I continue, Mom bursts out the sliding glass door. Tear streaming down her make up caked face. "My husband is dead. My sons have moved away. I don't know my grandkids. Do I have grandkids? Are they gay punks too? Do they love me? Does anyone love me?"

Jon and I look at each other. I sigh and get up to comfort Mom. "It's okay Mom. Jon and I are here. I know you miss dad awfully. It's okay."

"That bastard was cheating on me with Clara that terrible bitch," she screamed and then put her hand over her mouth as the realization dawned on her. "Oh god," she whispered.

"It's okay Mom, we're here," Jon jumped up to put his arm around her. "Let's go inside and get you comfortable."

Jon and I led her to her bedroom. It was gray and quiet as my father's tomb. The bed is unmade. The bedroom has the same gray bedding and paisley blue wallpaper that I remember. The wallpaper is peeling. The carper is orange and horribly thin.

"Why don't you lay down, mom?" Jon says. Mom whimpers as she gets into bed. "Will you stay with me for a bit Jon?"

"Okay," he says. Jon sits in the mauve high backed chair.

I step out of the room and go back to the porch with Chloe. Another relative is walking away with a curdled expression. "What'd you say to her?" I ask.

"Only that her son roofied a cheerleader in high school." Chloe replied. "Well it's true!"

"Who's her son?" I ask.

"Bill Heider," she replied. "I saw him roofie Sal."

"Jesus," I say.

Chloe looks at me with her piercing gray eyes and takes a sip of wine. "So Garrett tell me how you met Sarah."

"I met Sarah when she came into the restaurant I was working at. Maurice and Zelda found a serving job for me at a fancy Italian joint. It was owned by Zelda's older brother, Mark"

***

Mark greeted the Estermans as soon as they walked in to Luca's. "Buona sera signor Esterman! Buona Sera signora Esterman! Come sit down!" With that, Mark had exhausted his knowledge of Italian. The Estermans loved Italian food and they were taken in by Mark's fake Italian. To be fair to Mark, he did make delicious carbonara and kept the food authentic as he could.

Mark whispered the table number to me. "Right this way please," I led the Estermans to table three without turning around.

As the Estermans sat down and handed them a menu, I realized that the Estermans daughter was with them. Mr. Esterman motioned to his daughter. "Ah Garrett. This is Sarah, our daughter. She's home visiting us from Berkley."

Sarah had shoulder length light brown hair and a pretty smile. She was wearing a black cocktail dress that showed off her chest. Sarah looked up to me and offered her hand. I wasn't sure whether to kiss it or shake it. I went with the latter. "Very nice to meet you. I'll be your waiter."

Sarah laughed. She laughed without cynicism and seemed it normal to be introduced to the waiter. I took their order. I tried my best to not stare at Sarah even as she tortured me by asking every combination of salad. Each salad had something that she thought about and carefully rejected with a smile. In the end, she ordered tomato soup instead.

If I was lucky, I would have served the meal without mishap. It would be another boring day where I served a nice family with a pretty daughter. I would have went home and spent the evening watching television with Maurice. I was not lucky this night - but because I was unlucky - I found the woman who agreed to marry me.

I had the salad and soup on the tray. The old gentleman at table 6 pushed his chair out as I walked by. I tripped and spilled the tomato soup and three salads on Sarah's chest. Tomato soup ran down her black cocktail dress. Salad dressing in her lap. The restaurant stared at me like the day my father and I said our final words.

I thought I was dead. I thought I would lose everything - the job at Mark's, Maurice's friendship, lunch at Zelda's, the little life I had. Instead, Sarah laughed. I apologized. I apologized more. Even as Mark yelled at me in fake Italian and the Estermans helped Sarah and chiding me, she was laughing. And looking at me.

I came back to serve the next night. Mark told me to dunk my stupid head in tomato soup and he ought to fire me, but that the Estermans had left a giant tip despite my soup disaster, and insisted I be there next time that they dined. I sighed and moved on with the evening.

Dinner service was slow. Mark stayed open on Monday's despite the slow crowd. As the dining room closed and we finished clean up, I went to sit at the bar and get drunk with the bartender. I was on my second beer.

Sarah comes in and sits at the bar - right next to me.

"Hi, did you dump soup on anyone tonight?" Sarah asks me. Her smile and brown eyes were accentuated by red lipstick.

"No," I stammer. "There wasn't a pretty woman in a black cocktail dress tonight."

"Should I order soup?" she asks. "My boobs haven't gotten that much attention in a while," Sarah says as she looked down at her brown knit top and pushed out her chest.

I look at her knit top. "I threw the soup so that I could give them proper attention. A server should take care of his patrons."

"Saucy. You live around here?" she asks.

"Yes, with my friend Maurice. He's a cross between my guardian angel and adopted father," I say.

Sarah says, "He sounds like a nice man. Are you from Cali?"

"No, I came here after my father threw me out."

We continue to talk about our lives. Sarah's home sounds As the bartender says last call, Sarah looks at me saucily, "Want to fuck?"

I looked over her body with mouth agape. "Yes."

"Let's go to my house. Somehow I don't think Maurice wants to her us fucking," Sarah says.

"And your parents will kill me when I fuck you after I spilled tomato sauce on you," I say.

"We'll sneak you out the window."

I follow Sarah to her parent's suburban neighborhood. Palm trees line the green lawns. I park around the corner and follow her into the house. It's a new ranch with a tin roof and a pool on the side. Sarah bends over and shows off her butt as she unlocks the side door.

The living room is immaculately kept. We sneak down the hallway to her childhood room. The walls are painted sea green.

Sarah turns around and bites her lip. I pull her close to me and kiss her. I can feel her boobs as she embraces me and grabs my dick through my slacks. Sarah runs her hand through my hair as I grab her butt.

She takes off her shirt and I admire the lacy white bra and her tits underneath. Her hair falls around her breasts. She grabs my butt. We keep kissing. Sarah pushes me onto the bed.

I pull off my shirt. She admires my body and pulls down her jeans. Her panties are orange. She straddles me on the bed and pushes me down and starts to kiss me again. I unclasp her bra and admire her boobs. Sarah looks at me and grabs my dick through my boxers. I gasp.

Sarah puts her hair into a ponytail and then takes me in her mouth. I'm breathing hard as she goes down. She pulls up and gives me the nasty look. She puts her hips over me and lowers herself onto my mouth as she continues sucking me. I taste her cunt and start to lick. Her hips start to buck.

I roll both of us over. I'm on top. I roll of her and look at her beautiful butt and perky boobs. "I'm going to nail you," I say.

Sarah looks at me breathless. "Condoms are in the drawer."

I grab a condom from the top of the pink dresser. I put it on and climb back onto the bed. I look deeply into Sarah's brown eyes as she lays on top of the bed. I put my dick into her. She gasps as I start to thrust.

Her hips grind back as I keep thrusting. I start to breath hard as hers becomes ragged. I gasp as cum shoots into the condom. Sarah orgasms after. She has a pillow over head to keep from waking her parents.