Dinner on Top of the Stairs.

Dad came home drunk again. The door swung open and slammed against the wall. He stumbled in and kicked off his boots. He hiccuped loudly and burped. Mom sighed and rose from the dinner table. “Really, Scott?” she said. She closed the door behind him. “Did you drive?” 

Dad didn’t reply. Instead, he smiled widely at her. He staggered and struggled to stay still. “Oh honey, I’m, I’m so…glad to see you. Give me a kiss.” He slurred his words and puckered for a kiss. Instead, he got a slap. Mom looked outside and shouted. 

“The car is in the yard!” she shrieked. “I can’t believe you drove like this.”

“Hey,” dad said with a slight bow and crooked smile. “I-I made it.” He tried to bring Mom in for a hug, but she fought against it. “You’re looking g-good. How about that kiss?” he said through his hiccups. 

“Scott, please,” Mom said as she pushed herself away. “Did you get into a fight?”

Dad laughed and nodded. “You should see the other guy.” He laughed again like he told a joke. I could see his swollen eyes from where I was sitting. His lip was red with dried blood. 

“Scott…You’re drunk. Again.” I could see Mom’s face flush. She always turns red when she cries. It’s a trait she gave me. “I can’t believe you! Getting into fights? Drinking and driving? This is getting out of hand.”

Dad shrugged and wandered into the kitchen. His steps were over-thought and shaky. His big toe stuck out of a hole in his sock. “Hey champ,” he burped in my direction. The entire time, I had my fork in my hand, mesmerized by my parent’s exchange. I set it down and studied dad closely. His eyes seemed to rotate everywhere but in my direction. His left eye was half closed and purple. His bottom lip was split and there was dirt on his cheek. He swayed and headed for the fridge. 

I pushed my plate of spaghetti away and stood up from the table. I walked toward the fridge; the entire time carefully watching him. He intrigued and scared me at the same time. I didn’t like either feeling.

“Hey dad,” I said finally, “Are you okay?”

“Am-am I okay?” he repeated. “Of course I’m okay! Never been better.” He twisted the top of a long neck Bud Light and took a lengthy sip. He threw back his head and let the liquid fall down his throat. Drops escaped and fell down his chin. He arched his back and stood on his toes. He corrected his stance and wiped the beer from his mouth. He let out a hearty sigh and noticed mom standing behind me. She had her arms crossed and tears ran down her cheeks. She sighed and shook her head.

“Hey good looking,” he joked.

“Gabe,” she said, “Why don’t you finish dinner in your room?” I hesitated but reluctantly followed orders. I grabbed my plate and ran up the stairs. I placed my dinner down at the top of the stairs and sat down. I hated when they fought and it seemed to happen more often. Everyday this week so far. It was only Wednesday. 

Dylan Samwell’s parents got divorced. He sees his dad on the weekends and bragged about having two Christmases. He used to be the funniest kid in class, but now he barely speaks. I gulped as the thought entered my mind.

“Is this going to be a regular thing, Scott?” I heard mom say. “Getting drunk every day?”

“I’m an adult. I can do what I want, when I want.” 

I looked over my shoulder down the hallway to the third door on the left. It used to be grandma’s room before she died. Things were better then. Happier. She went to sleep one night and never woke up. I’m supposed to go back to school tomorrow. 

“I know things have been hard for you lately, but this is no way to behave. What if you wrecked the car? Or worse? You could have been arrested or even killed someone. You can’t be doing this. What is Gabe going to think?”

I held my breath at the mention of my name. Dad chuckled and said, “He’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’m fine.” 

My mind disappeared into a memory.

“Hey grandma.”

“Why hello John!” She gave me a wide and delightful smile.

“It’s Gabe, grandma.” I felt bad for correcting her. No one knew who John was but sometimes when I'm tired, I’ll play along and be John for her just to avoid the awkwardness. 

“Oh,” she seemed disappointed in her mistake. Dad knocked on the doorframe and made his way in. 

“Hey there champ,” he smiled at me. “Hey mom.”

“Scott!” The smile returned to her face. 

“How do you feel today?” 

Grandma nodded and said, “Good good. Just watching my shows with John.” I turned to the TV. I saw myself in the reflection of the black screen. “John’s such a good boy.”

“Is that so?” dad said as he winked at me. “How about you, me and John get ice cream?” 

Grandma’s hazy blue eyes lit up. She sat up taller and clapped her hands together. “Oh, that sounds lovely! I know you like your mint chocolate chip.” Dad smiled. He was the only one grandma could truly remember. We were all happy then, even if I had to be John sometimes. 

The next day, I ate meatloaf on the top of the stairs again. This time, mom didn’t try to keep her voice down. Dad was shouting too.

“-and you wonder why I’m upset.”

“What do you want from me?” They went in circles for two hours and fought long after I went to sleep.

On Friday, I let my tacos sit on the top of the stairs. Crashing and stomping came from the kitchen. 

“I don’t care what you do anymore! I’m done, do you hear me?” 

I sighed. They never fought like this before and now it’s the new normal. I miss how dad was before grandma died. He was always smiling and had a contagious laugh. He’d randomly dance to whatever song was stuck in his head for the moment and wouldn’t stop until mom and I joined him. 

There was a strange silence from the kitchen. For a second, I thought they had both left. I crept down the stairs silently bracing my footsteps against the wooden steps. I peered through the bars of the railing and saw mom holding herself, tears stained her face. Dad was sitting at the table with a beer in his hand. 

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

Mom shook her head and turned away. “I don’t know,” she said in a small voice. “I just don’t know anymore, Scott.” 

Sunday night I ate at the table with mom. Dad was at a friend's house watching the football game. He wasn’t much of a fan, but it was a reason to be out drinking.

I sighed. Mom looked up from her chicken parmesan and asked what was wrong. I took a while to reply. I wasn’t sure what to say. Everything was fine in my world. My grades were good; Duncan Filmore invited me to his birthday party at the bowling alley; I got the winning shot of my basketball game. Dad was even there for it. Something felt wrong. 

“I’m fine,” I said. “Just tired.”

“Well,” mom said, “Why don’t you get ready for bed? I’ll clean up here.” 

I woke up to screaming. I jumped out of bed in a panic and ran to my door. I cracked it open and turned my head so I could listen.

“Is that lipstick?” 

“What? No, you’re being paranoid.”

“Who is she?” 

“Who is who?” 

“Tell me Scott!” There was a string of curse words and then two large bangs. The wall shook from dad punching the drywall. I could see his face, red from anger and then mom’s. She held her face with her hands and sobbed. She stood in the doorway of her room in her nightgown. Dad’s shirt was on backwards. 

“Oh hey there champ,” he said with a grin. “Mommy’s just mad at daddy for having a little fun.”

“Gabe, go to bed,” mom said through her tears. 

“Everything’s okay bud,” dad said and for half a second, I believed him. I nodded and closed the door. I laid in bed and wrestled with sleep. 

There was an ugly storm outside on Tuesday night. It had been raining all day and had no signs of stopping. My poncho and boots were by the door, drying since the walk home from the bus stop. Mom was waiting for me with a bottle of wine.

“Hey Gabe,” she said. She blinked for a long time and smiled. “How was school?” she asked with her eyes still shut. 

“School was fine. I figured out what to get Duncan for his birthday.”

“Oh yeah?” She opened her eyes and took a sip of her wine. 

“A basketball. He wants to join the team next year. I thought I could help him practice.” 

Mom nodded in agreement. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Come here.” She opened her arms and beckoned me. I followed her orders and found myself in a hug. I couldn’t remember the last time we hugged. It was probably at grandma’s funeral. Things have been so bad since then. It was hard to miss grandma with all the fighting. I could feel a stinging in the back of my eyes. They watered and slid down my face effortlessly. 

I jumped at the boom from outside. Rain pelted the windows and the wind howled loudly. 

“What a storm huh? I’m sorry, I should have picked you up from the bus stop.” The bus stop is only two blocks from the house. Down the street on the opposite corner. I had my rain boots and poncho, but a ride would have been nice. I looked out the window and realized how dark it was already. 

“What do you want for dinner?” mom asked as she pulled away from the hug. I quickly wiped away the evidence of my tears and shrugged. 

“I dunno. We haven’t had pizza in a while.” Mom nodded and stood. She lost her balance for a moment, but regained it gracefully. 

“Pizza sounds wonderful,” she said. 

Dad came home once I was finished with an essay I had to write. He wasn’t drunk, but seemed sad, distant. Out of habit, I grabbed my plate and went toward the stairs.

“Where are you going, bud?” he asked. 

“To my room,” I said with confusion. 

He waved a hand, calling me back. “No, no,” he said, “We eat at the table, come on.” It was strange. I looked at my dad and then my mom. Both were silent and eating slowly. My plate was empty but I stayed at the table. Despite the silence, it was nice being at the table with them. 

“I got accepted into the science fair,” I said, with hopes of breaking the tension. 

“That’s amazing, son,” Dad said. Mom smiled and agreed. 

“What are you going to do?” she asked. 

I shrugged. I wasn’t sure yet. All I had to do was sign up for it, but getting accepted sounded better. 

“I made a volcano for my science fair,” dad said, “And so did five other kids.”

“Okay, so no volcano,” I laughed. 

“What about a potato clock?” mom suggested. 

I shook my head, “Dylan’s going to make one.” 

“Well, we have time to think of something. I can help you,” dad said.

I smiled. “Yeah, that sounds great.” The rest of the night seemed normal. No fights, no crying, no top of the stairs. I fell asleep watching a movie. Mom woke me up gently and instructed me to go to bed. I got a hug from both of them and mom kissed my forehead.

“Gabe?”

I looked over my shoulder to them. “Yeah?”

“You know we love you, right?” 

I nodded. “I know. I love you too. Goodnight.” 

I dreamt of nothing. It was me just wandering through a deep blackness. The walls around me got closer and closer, until I was pressed against them. The walls peeled and covered me. It felt like a bedsheet and it tightened its grip, suffocating me. The more I fought against it, the tighter it got. It squeezed the air out of my lungs. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t breathe. I was alone in the nightmare. 

I woke up in a sweat. After catching my breath, I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. I noticed a suitcase and a few bags by the door of my parent’s room, but the desire to relieve myself was stronger than my curiosity. 

I washed my hands and began to head back to my room.

The bags were gone.

I heard a car start. 

I put the pieces together in my head and ran down the stairs. I opened the door and was greeted by the storm. I yelled into the wind as I watched the car pull out from the driveway. I quickly put on my boots and poncho and chased after the car. The storm roared. 

“Please don’t go!” I shouted into the wind. I ran after the taillights. My boots slapped the dirty puddles of the road. Clouds fought each other and lightning crackled in the sky. The thunder crashed up above and the rain poured down with anger. I slowed to a stop, gasping for breath. “Please,” I cried, but the storm drowned over me. “Come back.” I waited for the car to stop. To turn around and drive back as if it was some twisted joke. Instead, the lights grew dimmer and the car got smaller until it was lost in the horizon. I yelled into the storm, who took it as a challenge and yelled back. The crash of thunder made my ears throb. The rain hid my tears and the wind stole my sobs. I was alone again.