Oh, the Cocaine!

"What is your family doing this vacation?" My friend, Lewis, asks as we decorate the tree in his living room.

"This year, we're going to the Caribbean." I smile, I'm excited for another Christmas get-away. My family never spends Christmas at home, they're a cultured bunch who always wants to experience something new.

"That's cool." Lewis smiles, then breathes a laugh, "You know what's funny?"

"You've gone all over the place learning everyone else's Christmas traditions, and yet you never stay here long enough to make your own Christmas traditions"

"Well," I turn the red ornament in my hand, "I already stay here for the majority of the days..."

Lewis glances at me, while fixing another ornament to the fir tree, "You don't have to give up all your extravagant vacations, just saying, experience home for once."

So that evening he told me about all of his Christmas traditions, we sipped on store bought chocolate tea (which aren't as good as the ones I hand picked from cacao trees in the Amazon but nice considering the company) and that night I decided to change my parent's mind.

As I got home with the intent to convince my parents to stay home, my father came around the corner dragging his suitcase behind him. He's already packed and waiting for the rest of the family to catch up.

"Hey sweetheart," he beams, kissing my cheek as I'd been gone for some time, "How is Lewis?"

"He's fine."

"Bid your goodbyes for now?" He asks, "You could ask Lewis to join us."

"I'll ask him." I clap my hands together, "Where's mom?"

"In the room, trying to fit a million things into her suitcase. One day I'll try to convince her to go a more minimalistic approach like I do." He gesturing to his bag.

"Dad, can we not visit the Caribbean this year?"

"Sure." He replies nonchalantly. He knows I don't ask for much, I follow him to the kitchen where he fingers through the mail.

"Really?" I perk up.

"Where else do you want to go? No where snowy I hope."

"I was thinking we could just stay here for the holidays. Home." I tell him, watching as he freezes in place, then looks up at me.

"Well you know we can't do that."

Not the answer I was expecting, "Why not?"

Instead of continuing our conversation, he shouts for my mother, "Julie!"

"Yes?"

"I think you should come in here for a moment, darling." He requests.

She pops her head out of the room, "What is it darling?"

"Your daughter wants to stay home for Christmas. I think Lewis gave her the idea." He shoots her a look, "Didn't you give her the talk?"

"Well when she turned 18, I didn't think she'd need it." She walks into the kitchen.

"You were supposed to tell her when she was 13."

"I forgot." She shrugs, "She should know by now."

"Lewis is just my friend." I tell them, "He just explained to me about how nice Christmas is here and that it's weird that I know everyone else's culture but not my own."

They look at me with confusion, "Honey, you know we're drug dealers right?"

"Hm?" I ask, "What?"

"Drugs."

"Like a pharmacist?"

"Crack, Cocaine, Acid, Angel Dust-" My father lists.

"I- When- What- How?"

"So, you didn't tell her." My father looks at my mom with disappointment, "This is what bad parents do. I'm sorry we never told you, so you still want to go to the Caribbean right?"

"Is this why we always leave the country on Christmas..." I ask, "Cause you're running from the police or something."

"Basically, yeah." Mom answers, "but it's fine, the Mafia just takes care if it for us while we're away cause apparently there's a lot of clean cops. Don't worry, they're sorting that out."

"We're part of the Mafia?"

"No... we're in business with them. But we aren't technically part of the Mafia." My dad explains, "Although-" He brushes a thought away, "No, that'll just confuse you."

"Say it." I'm already confused, might as well go all in.

"Well, I would think we're part of it because we've done our fair share in stealing stuff too. I mean, dealing drugs aren't the only things we do." He explains, looking a bit annoyed, "I think we should call up Fred and-."

"You stole stuff?" I interrupt him.

"Not enough to run a museum out of a business but a lot ." He brags, "Now that I think about it, Fred is a nice guy, he does give us a good enough share whenever we get stuff for him."

"We should get him something else." Mom agrees, "How about that cute little painting from the Van Gogh exhibit. His wife would love that."

"Which wife?"

"Lisa," Mom says, "but You're right, we have to get something for the others."

"Guys, this is bad..." I tell them, "You could go to jail forever."

"Yea, we know," Dad sets his mail on the kitchen table, "Honey, life isn't easy and we found a way to make it stable. I'm not going to mess that up by handing myself in."

"You guys use drugs?"

"Of course," Mom answers, "We can't give our loyal customers low quality commodities. That's bad business."

"Yes, you must always sample your products now and then to keep up the quality and reputation. You should know. You do Business studies in school." Dad points at me.

"Yeah and in school we're taught how bad drugs are for consumption." I tell them, "What it does to your body. You could die any minute."

"Well I hope so, I don't want to live forever. Immortality isn't fun. Your mom knows."

"Yeah, I'm immortal. It's hard." She shrugs.

"Does Jason know about this?" I ask about my brother. He's always been stuck to his phone so there might be a chance that this has been blown over his head as well. I can't be the only one.

"He's our top salesman," Mom beams proudly. "He always brings by his University friends, except Phil for some reason."

"Didn't you hear?" My father asks her, then whispers like its a secret, "Phil's a nerd."

"I always knew it," Mom shakes her head with disgust and disappointment, "I mean look who his parents are, Dr. Mark Brady and Susan, the physicist, with their PhDs and MDs. He was bound to turn out like them."

"There's still hope for him," Dad continues, "When I was selling crack to the sororities in the other University, I swear I saw Phil doing a line of cocaine."

"Oh, the cocaine!" Mom taps her head like she forgot something, "I supplied for that party but I didn't see Phil."

"I didn't see you there." Dad thinks, then shrugs it off "Next time."

"What do I do with all this information?" I ask them, "What is my childhood? What is my life?" I slowly make my way to a chair. "What if one day, you guys get arrested. What's gonna happen to me?"

"Prison isn't that bad," Dad tries comforting me, "Trust me, I've been there a lot and we have many friends that'll make our stay comfortable."

Holding onto the chair, I look at these people before me. The amount of drugs they had taken has altered their brains somehow into a warped sense of right and wrong.

"So, the Caribbean?" My dad asks.

However, the fear that gnaws at me is that one day, the men in uniform are going to knock on our door and arrest my dad, my mom and my brother.

One day, we'll sit in court and I'd have to testify while they sit in the orange jumpsuits.

Until that day comes, I guess I'm going to have to take as much cruises and vacations to forget about what happened here today so I can pass the lie detector tests.

If my parents go to jail and my brother goes to jail, I need to make sure that I don't.