The window felt cool against my palms. A feeling that was almost comforting from the amount of times I’ve done this. It had become almost routine, in fact. It always started around 9pm. The time when families would cuddle against each other in a form fitting couch, or when a Mom would tuck in their little kids, sweeping their hair back, and kissing their forehead. Right around 9pm was when the night would transform into that crispy purple-blue color. The midway point between sundown and the total take over of the full force of night. It was when outside started wind down, and cars started to buzz by less frequently. Nine was different for me.
Around this time is when my stomach would sink, and I had to contain every fiber of my body not to run away for good. Around 9pm was when James, my stepfather, would down his fifth whisky of the night and start to get sloppy. And tonight was no different. As my I lifted my bedroom window I could hear the echoing screams.
“James, please just sit down, and drink some water.” You could hear the shakiness to my mother’s voice. Her pleading eyes probably big as ever, as she backed behind the recliner. Not sure if she need protection. “You promised you wouldn’t do this to me again!”
“Don’t…you tell…me what I neeeed to…do!” James words slurred, as he slammed his empty glass on the kitchen table. A huge chill curled down my spine, and I knew this was going to get out of hand soon. “I can do what I waaant!”
A split second of silence and then a sudden shatter of glass.
“Stop throwing things!”
My mom pleading again, as I slipped out my window and landed in the same spot I had for the last few months. The ground padded down so much, that you could almost see the footprints from each jump. The latest one was right before prom, when there was a “disagreement” over who was taking pictures. And now tonight, two weeks before I head off to freshman year of college. I told you this was routine.
Step 1) James would get drunk and start yelling
Step 2) My mom, without any success, would try to defuse the situation
Step 3) Things are thrown
Step 4) I slip out of the house and have 911 on the phone by the time I pass the neighbor’s ironic “Home is where the heart is” sign stuck in their from lawn like an unwanted weed
A high-pitched voice answered the phone. “911 what is your emergency?”
It was Stacy again.
I was hoping I would get someone different. Last time I got her, she pleaded with me to stay put and wait for the cops to come. But that didn’t seem like my idea of a riveting Friday night. The cops barging in on our unsuspecting perfect family, and James, being the pathological liar he was, reasoning with the cops. Saying it was a misunderstanding, that the glass sparkling like glitter on the carpet floor was an accident. That it “slipped” out of his hands. He gets ticks from not having his caffeine all day or he got startled by the loud TV. Whatever story that creep could squeeze out to make him look innocent. That was the story he would tell.
My poison of a stepfather was a well known business man with a unscathed reputation. How could James Quinn, of the Quinn Television station, newspaper, with side companies all over the Mid-West, be anything less of a perfect gentleman? How could Mr. Quinn who’s father owned half the town, and mother was on every committee there was, be deemed so low as to not provide for his own family, to hurt his wife multiple times, and ignore his step-child to the point where he didn’t know that he was the one calling the cops every time things got “out of hand”.
“I’d like to report domestic violence. Location is 563 Locust Rd. It’s the big house at to top of the hill, can’t miss it.” I tried to disguise my voice. The uncontrolled huffing from running down the street might have helped. “Please hurry.”
“Jason, is that you.” Damn it Stacy! How can you figure it out every time!
“I don’t know who Jason is,” I tried to make my voice go deeper, but failed completely only to sound like a croaking toad. “I’m sorry.”
“Jason, please just stay where you are and we will get you help. Nothing will happen to you or your mother, I promise.” I could picture her on the receiving side, eyes wide, biting her fingernails trying to stay calm for my sake. “Tell me where you are, and I can get you help.”
“563 Locust Rd. Thank you.” I hung up.
I shoved the phone back into my pocket, as I found the only house on the West side that didn’t shut down after 9pm. I got the smallest pebble I could find in the front lawn, and tried to use my all my skills from my short lived tee ball career, to throw it to the second story window. After the third try, the pebble knocked the window. A girl with a dark braid that bounced off her shoulder, popped her head out. And like my routine at home, this was very routine as well.
Step 5) Convince 911 operator that I am not Jason London, Step-son of James Quinn
Step 6) **Extra step if Stacy is the operator** Do not let Stacy convince you to stay and wait for the cops. Even if that is what you really want to do.
Step 7) Sneak into Cassie’s house without making a sound
A few seconds later the front door opened and I tip toed in, up the stairs, and into Cassie’s bedroom where we used to play superhero when we were kids. I was always the villain and Cassie was always the one who saved the day and kicked butt. Cassie would have it no other way. She liked being the hero. The Ass-Kicker of the West side, kicking the unsuspecting butts of all those who dare any evil on her town or loved ones! On the other hand, I didn’t mind being the villain. It always seemed like villains were misunderstood. They were always smart, and cunning. Just using it for the wrong purpose. Cassie upheld her reputation of being an Ass-Kicking hero, while I unfortunately had run with the misunderstood smartasses of the world.
Cassie and I were almost like brother and sister. We practically grew up together. We were both home for a mere two more weeks before our freshmen year of college. We both were going to East State University. Those two weeks couldn’t seem any further away. I couldn’t wait to get out of this hell hole.
“Shhh! Don’t breathe!” Cassie mouthed the words, a silent language that I had come to understand. She grabbed my sleeve and pulled me into her bedroom. A sleeping bag already set up on the floor. She shut the door and looked at me like she always did after a night like this. A look of disapproval, frustration and most of all sadness.
“Don’t look at me like that!” I whispered, grabbing a set of clothes from the bottom drawer. I had claimed this drawer as my own after nights like this had became the norm. The drawer contained a toothbrush, socks, two pairs of boxers, shorts, and a T-shirt. I grabbed the change of clothes, and went into her bathroom that like Cassie’s innocent reputation was clean and bright. The pink shower curtain, towels and bathroom rug were almost too much. But it suited Cassie.
“I know what you are going to say.” I mumbled.
Cassie walked near the bathroom and slid her back down the wall next to the cracked door so that she was facing the opposite wall. I could see her fingers resting on the carpet, they were pulsing with a “I am going to lecture you” vibe. I looked in the mirror. My face looked like crap. Eyes dropping with sleepless nights, hair wet with sweat. I splashed cold water all over my face, and looked again.
Nope, still crap. Well that didn’t help.
“Jason.” Ugh, here it goes. You start with Jason and then an explosion of what I should be doing. And as you guessed it, very routine as well.
Step 8) Get to Cassie’s room and try to sleep this nightmare off
Step 9) Mission is interrupted by Cassie’s need to lecture
Step 10) Pretend to listen to Cassie’s lecture, but really think about how good it’s going to feel to sleep for at least more than 2 hrs
“You need to do something different. You can’t just run away and come to my house every time shit hits the fan. You need to some how show the cops, what is really going on. Convince them to take James away. Convince your mother to say something!” Cassie’s words got higher pitched with every sentence. Her fingers pulsating again, and I could picture her lips tight trying not to full out yell and wake her parents. “Or every better idea. You should just punch James out and give him what he deserves!”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to listen to Cassie’s “superhero Ass-Kicker, do-gooder of the year” speech. That was not me, remember. And it wasn’t liked I didn’t try. Oh no. I tried. Multiple times. When James first started showing signs of getting a little bit “too aggressive” I got in his face, pushed his shoulders, and got in one good punch. But before I could take another shot, he pinned me to the ground, my arm twisted behind my back, snapping the wrist in a direction it shouldn’t have gone, and he whispered in my ear, “Do that again, and your wrist won’t be the only thing I snap.”
So, that plan didn’t work.
Confronting him didn’t work, unless you wanted your bones in directions that they are not meant to be. And I’ve yelled at my mom hundreds of times. Begging her to call the police herself. They would believe her! How could they not! But the same threat that I got was graciously shared with her as well. We were puppets on a string. James ready to snap the strings whenever he felt like it. And I was getting the feeling those strings would snap pretty soon.
I turned the knob of the shower and let the steam open my lungs. I felt gross and useless. Like a little pawn in Jame’s messed up life. I took off my dirty guilt soaked clothes and threw them in the corner of the floor. And got into the shower.
“Jason, come on please say something. You have to do something different or else someone is going to get hurt. And you know for a fact it’s not going to be you!” The door to the bathroom swung opened.
I would have normally been concerned that someone barged into the bathroom while I was showering, but the curtain was opaque and I was too tired to care at this point.
“Cassie, what do you want me to do that I haven’t already down.” I closed my eyes, and let the water run down my face, trying to erase the feeling of wanting to vomit. “I’ve tried everything.”
“Well, try harder! You just run away every time something happens. What if you run away and your mom get’s hurt or even worse…”
“Don’t.” I snapped back the curtain to reveal just my face and glared at her. With the bathroom light I could clearly see her for the first time tonight. She was wearing a dress that was skin tight, a dark purple color that complimented her tan skin. Her make up was all done, and hair that was pinned back into a braid that had ribbon going through the loops. “Were you…going out tonight?”
“Don’t change the subject London.” Cassie cleared her throat professionally. “We need to talk about this.”
“Cassie, don’t let me stop you from going out.” Cassie, like her title described, was a hero. If there was someone in need, she would drop what she was doing to help. And lately I had been that stereotypical “damsel in distress” but without being the damsel part. “Why are you here listening to my sob story?”
“You need me.” She sat on the bathroom floor, pushing away my dirty clothes with her foot.
“I needed a place to crash. You need to go out and forget about me.” I turned off the shower and grabbed the towel hanging off the rack. I cleared my throat and on that note Cassie left the bathroom and closed the door. I’m comfortable with Cassie, but not that comfortable. But before I could change, The door cracked and clothes came flying through. A surprise package for me, I guess.
“What’s this?” I asked picking up a button down and dark jeans. “You know I have my own clothes, I don’t need…”
“I got a plan.” Cassie’s voice rang with excitement from behind the door. “You are going to go out with me!”
“Um, thought we decided a long time ago we weren’t going to date each other.” I grabbed the clothes and started to change. It smelled of stale laundry, like was clean but hadn’t been worn in years. “And can I remind you that was your decision as well. I mean if you are open, I am always in…”
“No dumb-ass, I’m saying go to the club with me tonight. Get your mind off of what is happening in House de Quinn.” I winced, trying to get the jeans on. “Have a good time for once.”
“I do have a good time!” I snapped back, trying to defend what little dignity I had left. “I have plenty of good times!”
“Staying home, ordering pizza and watching reruns of How I Met Your Mother does not count as having a good time” Cassie barged into the bathroom once again, as I was finishing the buttons on the shirt.
“Whose clothes are these anyways?” I felt like my pants were going to unzip at any moment. “They’re tight as hell.”
I looked at Cassie and knew right away I shouldn’t have asked. Damn it! I should have guessed, and I wish I could take it back. My stomach dropped even further that it had already tonight.
“They were Carter’s,” she barely spoke.
Carter was Cassie’s brother. He was two years older than her. A boy who practically had it all, if that was cliché enough. He had a football scholarship to Michigan, full ride. His parents were so proud of him, and Cassie was even prouder. But the summer before he was supposed to go off for college, he was driving back from a party, and a drunk diver ran a red light. Drunk diver was unscathed, Carter wasn’t so lucky. There was a memorial at school and at the site of the accident. Flowers were replaced weekly for the last year by Cassie and her mother. That was why Cassie was so hard on me. She knew what it was like to lose someone you loved. And she knew that something horrible was going to happen to my mom if something didn’t do something soon.
“Cassie, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” It was my turn to give her the face. Sadness mixed with a yearning to help. Unfortunately the helping part was not my forte. Cassie usually took over in that department.
“It’s fine. Just don’t ruin them.” Cassie without a second thought pulled on my sleeve again, and we snuck back down stairs, clicking the front door behind us, and into her 2002 Buick LaSabre with the paint crusting. This part was not routine. Not part of the plan. But I guess a little revising didn’t hurt anybody.
*Addendum*
Step 11) Go out with Cassie (and “out” meaning as friends per her description)
Step 12) Find a source of alcohol
Step 13) And like any rational misunderstood college bound teen would do, drink and hope all problems disappeared when I woke up in the morning
Tori Skies 