It got dark reasonably soon, it was dinner time and I returned to Clyde Street after parting from Andrew at the Yellowstone junction.
Some of the street lights were off, and those that were on only emitted a dim, darkened light, so essentially the only lights that illuminated Clyde Street came from the windows of every house.
The moon, which that evening was full, was covered by trees, I tried to look up at the stars but, while there actually were lots, all I was able to see was a streak of sky not bigger than the road I was walking on.
The chirp of one or two cicadas coming from an undisclosed location filled the air, which got a lot cooler thanks to a gentle breeze after that sweltering afternoon.
That air, though, reeked of the combination of freshly cut grass and gasoline, and I couldn't take a deep breath without getting that whiff right into my brain.
As soon as I opened the front door of my house, the rather relaxing sound of that hot summer evening got replaced by the annoying voice of my father.
"I'm the one who goes to work in this house!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, "I cannot tolerate this bullshit everyday!"
"Spare me this nonsense!" The sound of my mother's voice tried really hard to climb over my father's, "If you think you're so better at saving money, why don't you go to the grocery store yourself?"
My father stood up and slammed his right fist on the table. "I told you I'm the one who works here! Going there is your job!"
Mom took a deep breath while he was talking, and then immediately replied. "And if it is my job, then don't tell me how to do it!"
I slammed the door behind me, making my presence felt, as I breathed nervously.
My father's eyes moved on me. "I am sick and tired of all of you! I should have never gotten married!"
"You should have thought of this before!" Mom stood up too. "Had I known how you were, I would have left you rotting alone!"
"How I am?!" I feared his eyes would come out of their sockets. "I sacrificed everything for this family! You should simply kiss my ass!"
"Hey!" I shouted as much as my voice allowed, "Could you two please shut the hell up for once?!"
It was an everyday situation, they used to argue all the time and for any reason they could think of.
Their constant yelling is probably the reason why I wore headphones most of the time.
My parents were really down to earth.
We were not rich or anything, I guess we survived. The problem was that they never got along. Every day they were yelling at each other.
Sometimes I would find myself wondering how the hell they made it through a marriage.
I mean, I didn't know much about relationships but I knew that, before you get married, you'd date and see how your relationship goes.
But if they never got along, how did they ever get to the point of getting married and, further more, having kids?
I'm pretty serious when I say that I had never ever seen one showing love to the other. They didn't even look like friends. And I didn't know what it was that one liked about the other, since they were both always complaining about what they didn't like.
"You shut up, kid!" He pointed at me, "You let the grownups talk!"
My father didn't like me. He never did. And I never really liked him myself. He liked fishing, I thought it was lame. He liked football, I hated sports. Everything he liked was disliked by me, and since he was a pretty one-sided man, he saw me as a loser.
I gritted my teeth. "I'm not a kid anymore! And I am sick of hearing this bullshit every single day!"
"You see!" He pointed at me eyeing my mom, "This is what I get in return! A son that curses at me and does nothing the whole fucking day!"
My mom put a hand on her face. I slammed my fist on the door. "It's freaking summer! What am I supposed to do?!"
He lowered his voice a bit. "Look at Scott! He works as a waiter to gain his fair share! Why don't you do the same?"
He so admired my cousin, Scott. He was a year older than me, pretty athletic, liked football and other sports, and was basically successful at everything he did in his life.
This is where the "switched at birth" theory comes to mind.
It's a theory I developed after realizing that my uncle Robert, Scott's father, had the same tastes, interests and ideas as me. The two of us, in fact, got along pretty damn well, just like my father and Scott.
Of course, this theory was pointless, given the fact that I was only born one year after Scott.
Well, anyway, Scott was the son my father wanted and never had.
For some reason, I always lived in his shadow when it came to family. My grandparents always thought of him first, it was almost as if he was a big brother to me. But he wasn't, and that's what pissed me off the most.
I should have probably hated him, but instead I used to hang out with him quite a lot before he got his own group of friends.
You see, we grew up together, he and his family lived in the house right next to ours, and my not having friends was a big part of this relationship.
"Yeah, yeah. It's always Scott. Why the hell do I still put up with this anyway..." I sighed and sat at the table.
"Let's at least eat," My father calmed down and sat too, "since apparently you had a lot of fun spending money on this."
"Man, what the fuck." I hissed before my mom could open her mouth, "Was she not supposed to buy food? What is wrong with you?"
My father gave me a condescending look. "Only the necessary. Instead, she bought a lot of unnecessary shit."
"Well, alright get over it, Jesus." I fumed, "You constantly spend a lot of money on your fishing equipment and other stuff you don't really need, and nobody tells you anything. But she can't go buying what she wants?"
Sometimes, my father could be really incoherent and selfish.
"You tell him, Pete," said mom while putting the plates on the table.
My mother and I got along pretty well sometimes, some other times we would yell, but that's normal.
She was never the kind of mother to hug and tell "I love you". She rarely read bedtime stories and gave me a goodnight kiss when I was little. But I don't blame her for that. That's just who she is, and I couldn't pretend a different behavior from her. Would I have preferred to feel loved and be hugged? Probably. But that doesn't mean anything, she's my mother, I love her for who she is.
My father didn't know what else to say, so he mumbled something and started eating.
I loved when I was able to shut him up. I know that it probably lowered his already low regard for me, but I felt good anyway.
I hated tyranny. He always wanted to dominate, and my mother's problem was that she let him do that. I always had to get involved and defend her.
And it's not like she would thank me or anything, but I could feel the gratitude in her eyes.
Not one word was spoken during dinner. My father had turned on the TV and the only one speaking was the man on the news. It wasn't awkward for me, I was used to that silence.
Had it been with other people, I would have felt awkwardness the whole time, but there, with my parents, it wasn't a big deal.
After dinner I went to my room, shut the door, picked up the laptop and clicked on the website I saved to my favorites earlier that day.
It was time to let that wrestling game begin.
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