Waiting on Justin

Chapter 8

That was it—it was all OK. We were going to make it until I was old enough, then we were going to ditch them and live happily ever after. I knew it. Life became routine and manageable, until the day it wasn't. In the mornings Justin left for work a little after Clayton did, and often he didn't get home until after dark. He was a grunt for Coffee, but he didn't mind; he liked the work and Coffee was right—he was a great salesman. I think, too, he liked being gone because he didn't have to deal with Mom and Clayton. He wanted to be there for me, and at night and in the morning after Clayton left, he was—but it was good for him to be anywhere but home. It was good for both of us.

Justin kept his word to Mr. Reyes too: he didn't drink or smoke anymore. Like everything he set his mind to, Justin decided to be done, and he stuck with it. Clayton was pissed about that more than anything. I didn't understand why. I mostly quit too, but I was a sucker for whiskey and Coke on a Friday night after a hard week at school, so I admit I still got hammered plenty of times. Justin never made me feel bad for it, but he never caved. His mind was made up, and he wouldn't change it for anything or anyone, not even me.

I think that's when I kind of knew how Mom and Clayton must have felt. I felt like he secretly thought he was better than me because he could say no and I still wanted to drink. The worst part was knowing he was saying no so he could stay with me and I wouldn't quit. I felt like a failure, like he must be disappointed in me but wasn't saying it out loud. It made me mad at him sometimes, and I don't remember being mad at him before that even once in my life. It scared me, but I didn't know what the feeling was or how to say anything about it, so I didn't.

He was getting stronger too, and that really pissed Clayton off—or maybe he was scared, and his fear—like mine—manifested itself as anger. I think if Justin hadn't been paying them rent Clayton would have kicked him out just out of spite, but he liked the money. He still yelled at Justin and took swings now and then, but I think he was afraid he might be the loser if he pushed Justin too far, so he stuck to yelling more than hitting. I knew it was bound to happen and waited for the day they would come to blows and Justin would come out on top.

The time did come, but Justin figured out a way to beat Clayton at his own game without a real fight in order to save Clayton the slightest bit of dignity. I don't know why he did that, why he cared at all. If it were me, after all the years of Clayton's fists in my gut, I'd have pummeled him and not cared about how it made him feel. But Justin had enough love for his dad to make the point—and make it well—but spare him a beat-down.

It was a normal Friday night at home: I was having fun getting smashed, and since he had nowhere better to be, Justin was right there with us in the living room. He was back to playing his guitar all the time. While we all got more drunk and high, he sat and played his guitar to the music, getting better at his craft, serenading our sorry souls. Then out of the blue when the song he was playing finished, he called out Adrian, one of Clayton's friends. It wasn't a fight he was looking for, but he was going to prove to everyone that he was stronger and better than his Old Man.

Justin's job was physical: he mounted and balanced and lifted tires all day long, which meant he was constantly building up his body. He was strong before, but in the few months he had been working he had honed his strength. He was younger than all the guys there that night by at least a dozen years, and he wasn't drunk. It was his moment to assert himself as the Alpha male, and Adrian was so wasted he walked right into it, no questions asked.

When Clayton wasn't looking, Justin flashed me a familiar look. I knew then he had a plan. I had to watch it play out. He told me later that he waited patiently for the right night, the right party, and the perfect moment. He was patient like that, never rushing anything to happen sooner than it was supposed to. His goal was to beat Clayton—to let him know once and for all who was stronger, who was the boss. It would have been too obvious if he came out and challenged Clayton outright; it would be far better to pretend it was all in fun and then humiliate him in front of his buddies. And that's exactly what Justin did.