Home is With You

Seven

The sky is dark, cold, dismal. The crescent moon shines softly, eliminating parts of the clouds that slowly stroll by. Cars drive past us, blaring their music or laughing, having the greatest moments of their lives. People stand at every corner of the road, holding signs with flashlights pointing at them. They all said various things, refusing to be drafted to Vietnam for war. They protested the power shortages and the oil shortages and the bombs and the space race, literally everything you can imagine was being protested. It was common, it was nothing to me. It didn't matter.

What mattered was the soft sounds of the car driving on the mostly smooth road. What matters most to me right now was the empty passenger seat right in front of me and next to Takashi. Memories flash in my head of fun times I had with an angel, but memories flash of the devil as well. 

The silence in the car only made the new void inside of me bigger and bigger by the second. No one wanted to speak and it's best if we didn't. Any word can tip us off the edge and cause us to break. 

Takashi and I had something in common. We push away our feelings until we reach a breaking point. Takashi is more easily breakable since he's closer to the edge, but in all, he still does it. Especially now, especially when Adam died, but there comes a time where he will break. He has to. 

I think about what happened only a couple of hours ago. Lance was there, unsure how to feel, unsure what to do. He sat and watched the scene unfold in fear. Takashi didn't believe us at first and thought it was all some sort of joke until I began to connect a couple of dots. The amount of money he takes from us, the number of times he's gone on "family vacations", the number of strange phone calls he receives. It's all a lie. It's all been to make money. 

I remember when we dropped Lance off at his house and drove back to ours. The first thing I do when I get out of the car was storm inside and find that bastard. He was in the room, already packing his bags for a "family vacation." 

Everything was a blur after this. I remember hitting him as hard as my body would let me. I remember the blood on my hands, not knowing if it was my own or Matthew's. Takashi and Matthew yelling. Takashi and Matthew crying. I remember I demanded the money back by this weekend or else I'd do something. I don't remember what, I wish I did. But, now I'm here. In a car, driving somewhere, in utter silence. 

Sometimes I wonder how it is living a normal life. Having a mom who cooks you meals and packs your lunch, having a dad that comes home and teaches you how to shave or to drive a car or throw a ball. Possibly having siblings who care about you. Having friends who you can hang out with on the weekends or after school and falling into bad habits and getting caught by your dad and never doing them again. Those things. 

Not a mom who never loved you or a dad who died before you can tell him you love him or a dad who adopts you out of pity, another dad six feet under the ground, no siblings, no friends, no one to cook you meals or pack your lunch, teaching yourself to shave or drive and getting into bad habits without being caught and knowing you'll end up addicted. Also having this really amazing guy in your life who is so positive and wonderful but you know that when a certain project is over, you will never make contact again. 

My point is that life sucks. Nothing good happens unless you're rich, smart, or pretty. I'm neither of those things so life sucks. 

"Hey, Keith..." Takashi finally speaks up. 

"Yeah?" I look at him. His eyes were fixed to the road. 

"How's your hand?" He asks me, glancing at me through his mirror. 

"Um...I don't know. I can't tell. It hurts." I open and close my hand slightly as I spoke. He hums in reply, suddenly making it quiet again. The quiet is too painful, so I said: "So where are we going?" I ask.