Falling For Alaska

Chapter Three: Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

I quietly slipped through the front door and shut the door as softly as I could. Looking back on it now, I probably should have taken the back door, as it would be less likely for me to be caught, but I really didn’t think things out.

“Young man, where have you been?” my father’s voice “greeted” me when I entered. I groaned: why couldn’t he just leave me alone?

Understandably, it was obvious why he could be mad. Perhaps he was supposing I was out on a crime spree or lying in a women’s bed, when, for the first time, I was doing (a relatively) innocent task. He couldn’t punish me for getting a coffee on this wonderful day, right?

I waved the now-empty paper cup in his face as an explanation, before heading towards the stairs.

No need to make this conversation more awkward than it already is... But my father had different plans.

“Chase, I’m really sorry about earlier. I know----” but I quickly cut him off. “It’s… fine, Dad. (Lie). No worries. (Another lie). Besides, I really need to start my summer reading list. (Another lie). Talk to you later, okay?”

He nodded and pressed his lips firmly together, shaking his head in disappointment. Yet, he still let me leave, probably telling himself that eventually we’d have a serious chat about her death.

But I would prevent this “chat” for as long as I could, as what was the point? What was the point of trying to making my father “see” the truth, when he would be forever blinded by the blond bimbo’s sluttish ways?

What was the point of talking about someone who was long gone--- and no chat would reverse that. My mother was gone, and it was all my father's fault.

And sure, I had a hell of a lot of “friends” and a fair share of “girlfriends,” but I wasn’t stupid enough to think that they wouldn’t hesitate to ditch me when the police came, or that they wouldn’t bail on me to save their own asses. It was just the way things were, and, truth be told, I liked it that way--- no regrets and no attachment. Because, then at least, when they’re gone, you won’t feel the pain, like I felt when my mother passed away.

No attachment meant no sadness. Because I now knew that everyone “goes” eventually and we all know what’s there at the end of the road. And, truth be told, it would never be rainbows and unicorns. This “heaven” of ours was just a way to ease the suffering of losing someone you love or to accept death.

But, that being said, I knew that I would never accept my mother’s death.

***

 To be honest, I didn’t want to wake up, even when my stupid alarm clock started playing some annoying, cheery and happy song. And no, I wasn’t suicidal and I didn’t want to die (yet, at least)—I just wanted to get some godd*mn sleep after I was kept awake all night by the moaning taking place across the hall. And the mere thought of the bedtime activities going on last night made me want to puke.

“As long as you l-l-love me, I’ll be your platinum, I’ll be your silver, I’ll be your gold---”

“Shut up…” I groaned, before pulling my blankets to cover my head, to try and at least block some of the obnoxious song. But, needless to say, the song was as loud as before.

I hate my life.

 But despite my tiredness, I brought one arm out of the cocoon I was in towards the direction of where the clock normally was kept and blindly swatted around, trying to find the source of the damn sound. I must have withstood the annoying Justin Bieber song (no clue why I used it as an alarm because all it seemed to do was put me in a bad mood…) for at least a few minutes.