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My father was the type of person with an ideal mindset. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Graying, thin hair, large blue eyes, happy smile when he isn't near a desk stacked with papers. I knocked twice and he looked up, a fake grin on his face when he saw it was me. Just me. First son. Biggest failure. I held up a bag and his hand swept the expanse of the room.
"Joshua, come in."
I set down the paperbag and looked over his office. At the encouraging posters, the sticky notes on his computer, and the pencils on his desk. He thanked me quietly, setting the paperbag aside. I peeked besides his desk and swallowed thickly, glancing at the hundreds of other paperbags that seemingly haven't been opened. I turned, making my way out of the room.
"Joshua?"
I turned to face him, watching as he raised an eyebrow expectantly. Moments like these are when I remembered he was my father and not a disappointed man. I quickly walked over, wrapping my arms over his shoulders from behind and kissing his cheek rather loudly. He laughed, patting my arm as I pulled away. "I hope you're doing well in school."
I said I was doing excellent. Straight A's. Honor Roll. Scholarship-worthy, don't even get your wallet out, Dad. He squeezed my arm as I left the room, avoiding his boss's eye as I went into the elevator. As the doors shut upon my tapping against floor one, I caught a glance of the now elderly man in a wrinkled suit. He smirked and winked at me. Disgusted, I leaned against the pole of the elevator, trying to steady myself. It's been nearly five years and he hasn't kicked the bucket, as much as I hoped he would. Hanging over my fathers shoulder, reminding him of my accusation that everyone believed was false. Just as the elevators were set to open, my stomach lurched and I ran, out of the small confinement and into the fresh air of outside. It was cold, and although my mother told me many times to purchase a winter coat, I refused to. And so, with a few shivers, I walked down the road of crunchy grass to the bus stop. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out, the screen hardly visible under this gloomy sky.
JORDAN: [1:24pm] I need a ride to Sara's party but mom won't give me one.
YOU: [1:25pm] if you plan on drinking I'll stay to take you back home, unless you want to crash at Sara's.
JORDAN: [1:37pm] I'll stay at Sara's but you should stick around just in case we fight, which is inevitable. Be ready by eight.
YOU: [1:40pm] ok.
The bus stopped two blocks from my house and I dismounted, hands deep in my sweaters pockets. Someone on a bicycle passed me but I ignored them, trying to gather warmth in the sweet haven of my hood. But curiosity ventured beneath my bones and I turned, facing Joseph. He was staring at me as he continued forwards, and before either of us could predict this, he rode into a tree. A grunt pulled from him as he fell, face-planting into the dirt. I giggled as he looked up, eyes wide. Biting my bottom lip to hold in my laughter, I jogged up the steps to The House and entered, hearing Sandy's cartoons and Jordan's music playing from his room. My mother was napping on the recliner in the livingroom. I set my bag down and went into the kitchen, grabbing a sippycup and rinsing it thoroughly before opening the fridge. I grabbed the applejuice and twisted the cap to open it, pouring it into the cup before closing it and returning it to its designated spot. I carefully shut the cup, stopping by the livingroom to hand it to Sandy on my way up the stairs. She beamed, kissing my cheek and sipping out of the straw.
