The Home that's Away

I didn't really know what was happening, all that I knew was that I was moving, then I wasn't. So when the man asked, "Do you know how fast you were going?", I was able to respond only because this was one of the few answers that I always had the answer to. "I believe I was going the speed limit officer, but I could always be wrong," I replied, throwing on my happiest face to appease him. He didn’t bite.

"Sir can you step out of the car please,” the elderly man commanded. This too I was familiar with, although this test was one I knew was a tossup every time. This guy seemed to get straight to the point, as the first test was sadly not the alphabet backwards (my bread-and-butter test) but rather to touch my nose with my right and left fingers. I never could really fake this one, and this time was no different as my fingers smeared over my cheeks, over my eyes, but not quite on the nose. “I’m going to have to take you in, if you don’t continue giving smartass answers I might let you go in the morning.” I didn’t really feel like I had given this guy anything to bark at me for, but I had learned from my earlier days. When the cop takes you in you hang it up and shut up. 

I must have fallen asleep at some point in the ride, or maybe it was the other circumstances that kept me from remembering about that night, but either way I found myself woken up by the clanging of bars shaken by a policeman who didn’t want me to stink up his illustrious station. I found myself in a cell much like the others I’ve visited. Two bunks, a rusted toilet in the corner close enough so you could always smell it. A little bit dingy in all its facets. A little cold. “Get up, you’ve been rotting up this place all morning, it's time to go,” the man hollered. I got up, felt around for my wallet, my keys, almost becoming anxious at the fact that they weren’t in my pockets, before I came to and walked with the man to the officer’s desk. 

“You’ve been charged with driving under the influence, Mr. Michael Domum. You have been fined $1,000,” he said, handing me an envelope, though not looking up from his report, “as well as receiving a license restriction for one week. Failure to meet these requirements will result in a year of prison time. If you wish to fight these rulings, you may appear tomorrow at 8 AM at the County Courts located here at Beach City.” Now that got my attention.

“Excuse me, did you just say Beach City?”, I interrupted.

The man took a deep sigh, “Yes, and you’re now free to go about as you please.” The man began walking away. “The exits down the hall. You can pick up your car at Owen’s Towing on 3rd and Ocean.” I was taken back again. That was a name I knew very well. From a town I knew very well. 

I walked the three blocks to find the place. I couldn’t believe it was still there after a good 30 years. It clearly had some work put into it, the fact that the sign wasn’t crooked and yellowing had me questioning what was going on. I walked in wondering if the old man was still there when I instead found someone entirely different. He had a tan complexion with trimmed dark hair, a clean shaved face, a changed face but nonetheless a face that I recognized. It was Owen. Owen Jr. He looked up to me from his desk as a smirk of surprised glee ran across his dimples. “Mike! How the hell are you?” He said, leaving the desk to hug me firmly. “I can’t believe it, it has to have been twenty years,” he exclaimed, every word expressing more excitement than the previous. Yet this joy came to a halt. “What brings you here?”

I chuckled, trying to brush off the shame that question denounced against me. “Well you know me, always on the wrong side of the law, just one of those types of nights you know.” 

Owen nodded hesitantly, “Well I actually have some time off if you want to maybe walk around.” He asked cordially, and I accepted.

The shop was just two blocks south of the boardwalk, and even after all this time we both instinctively walked there and took the left to go to the fun side of town, like old times. 

“So you’re still working for the old man?”

Owen was stunned. “No man, he passed a good ten years ago, I thought you heard.” 

“No kidding? Then what are you still doing there?”

“Well I bought the place from him actually.” He answered as his head held itself a bit higher.

I however bubbled at the thought of that. “He really made you pay for that place? After all that time you spent there, doing the off end dirty jobs?”

“Well you know dude I was a kid then, that’s what kids do. But yeah I mean just kept my head down a few years and I was able to save enough to get it from him. And it’s doing well too, with you guys around we’ll be doing fine.”

I laughed nervously. I really didn’t need this. I really needed to be alone in my crowd of people. I saw my people’s house on the left, and so I stopped my companion.

“Look, there it is!” Shore Tavern, the place I spent my whole summers. “Why don’t we stop in for old times sake.”

“Sorry, I have to get back to it in a bit,” he mentioned, still standing as he took in the sight. “Some good times a while ago though.”

“Yeah,” I replied but I wasn’t focused on my friend but rather the state of the place. The neon sign that promised light was somewhat sunken, and it wouldn’t have shocked me if a lot of the lights were extinguished.  The wood too was peeling, the white painted exterior clearly hadn’t been redone since I was there. More than that it was dead. Not anymore than it would have been on a typical weekday morning. But I noticed it, it had no life. “I guess it’s been slowing down.”

“I guess.”

We continued walking, finding less and less to talk about as our lives showed to be more and more different. Not that we had any major disagreements, just that unlike before we found ourselves having nothing to talk about.

We stumbled upon a place, though mundane, that stood out, causing me to hesitate in my gait. 

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure. Ah! I know, it’s the part of the beach my family would go to. All summer, it was always this spot. Always the worst part of the trip, hated being subjected to watching the younger ones, listening to Mom and Dads stupid conversations.”

Owen began heating up. “You know you’re the only person I know who looks back on beaches with his family in a negative light. I know it has its faults but, it's the beach!” He cooled a bit, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Here before me lay a choice. I didn’t like it when people told me to get out of my own way, especially when someone close would insult me so personally. But something in his ways; Maybe the outfit he donned after spurning it for so long, maybe the way he seemed to avoid looking at the bars, and maybe the way he looked me in the eyes when I looked away told me that I just might have to back off. 

I looked in the distance to see a family of four. The Dad was napping, the Mom was yelling at him to get up. The little girl was running to the water, the little boy was throwing sand on her. It was chaos, but it was pure. “Yeah maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

Owen was now completely calm, and seemed to enjoy where the conversation could head. “You remember, playing in the water, eating whatever your Mom made, the sand, it was all good. And even the bad I bet couldn’t have really been that bad.”

“What are you saying?”

At this point we began walking again, as Owen needed to get back to work.

“Well I mean watching your siblings, I bet it was nice seeing them grow and mature a bit because of you. And even your parents, I bet if you were with them today, at your age, you’d enjoy a silly little conversation with them.”

I was silent.

“Say how are your parents doing by the way?”

I began answering, but my throat halted the words that I attempted to speak. After a few stutters I managed to choke out. “I’m not sure I haven’t spoken to my parents in ages.” I began finding my words, finding a clear voice in exchange for tears which began to stream down my cheeks. “I’ll be honest with you Owen, and this is the type of honesty I never express sober, I’m not doing too hot, well you know that. The fact I come to an old beach town with contempt, even that I’m here at all, shows something ain’t right. My life's securely insecure. And to be honest my family just might bring that something I should have had 15 years ago.”

Owen did not answer right away, a moment like this causes a man to carefully choose his every word. “You know, why don’t you call them now?”

My mouth twitched. “I don’t know it’s been so long, I don’t know how’d they feel.”

“Well, it can’t be any worse than how they feel about you now.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t even know, they could have my number blocked.” 

Owen took his chance. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialed a few numbers. “Ms. Domum” the number read. He handed it to me and smiled.

I took a deep breath. I took it from him. I heard that someone had answered it on the other end, as I walked a few steps away from my friend.

“Hey Mom”, I stuttered, “It’s me.”