Full House

My mom’s been re-married for a little over a year now. Steven was his name, but we called him Steve because we knew he didn’t like that. It’s not that we sided with my dad in the divorce or anything, it’s just that it felt like he gave us a little more time to adjust while our mom just went right ahead and married some guy not even six months after the separation was finalized. Not to mention the fact that Steve was pretty annoying towards us; he tried way too hard to cultivate a relationship right off the bat. So when my mom noticed that my brother and I were unresponsive, she planned this whole trip to the backcountry, so we could bond as a family. She knew my brother and I had been dying to go camping out west, so she took advantage of that. We loved nature; we were the kind of kids who built forts out of sticks in the backyard from the time we were allowed to play outside unsupervised. I guess that was the silver lining of this trip: the scenery and ambience would be unmatched.

We drove out the Sunday before spring break. I was sitting in the back seat with the volume on my CD player all the way up, so if anyone tried to talk to me, I couldn’t hear them if I tried. I was listening to a mix that my friend Sydney made for me, which included only the finest selection of Nirvana and Soundgarden. My thirteenth birthday was the day we were supposed to come back, and I was already looking forward to having dinner with my dad that night. All I wanted was to get the hell away from Steve.

We got to our campsite a little after eight o’clock. Steve and my mom started up a campfire so they could cook us something to eat, my brother started to pitch the tent, and I went off to explore. “Don’t go too far, bud” my mom shouted after me, “dinner will be ready in 30 minutes”. I rolled my eyes, but my back was to them, so they didn’t see. I slid down and climbed up the hilly terrain of our campsite. We had just missed the sunset, but I didn’t mind. I liked watching the sunrise better anyways.

I found a beautiful overlook at the edge of a mini cliff probably ten minutes from where we had set up camp. It had to have been at least 250 feet up. I looked out over the clearing and thought about my life. I thought about seventh grade and sixth grade and fifth grade. I thought about the night my parents decided they were going to get a divorce, and I thought about the night they told me and my brother about it. I thought about what I would be getting for my birthday next week. I thought about the girl who sat across from me in pre-algebra, and how pretty her eyes looked on the days she didn’t wear makeup. I thought about everything in my life that brought me here to this moment right now.

I laid my head back on the dirt, dangled my legs over the edge, and closed my eyes. I listened to the water below me, and I dug my hands into the dirt beneath me. I missed the life I had just one year ago. I wanted to tell my mom I hated Steve. I wanted to tell her I missed the way things were when she was still with dad. I wanted to tell her that some part of me was always going to think it was because of me and my brother, even though I knew deep down that they simply never loved each other in the first place. I wanted to tell her that because they got divorced, I would probably never believe in love. In fact, I knew I would never believe in love. I knew it was a scam. A fake notion that writers and directors and producers and singers and parents made up to give hope and breed naïveté in kids like me.

I sat up and looked down at the water below me. I felt my legs begin to dampen and I flipped my palms upwards to see if it was rain I was feeling. Then I brought my hands to my cheeks and realized I was crying. I clenched my fists, squeezed my eyes shut, and screamed the word “FUCK” as loudly and as prolonged as my lungs would allow. It felt good to scream, so I did it again. And again, and again. I checked my watch and realized dinner was probably ready. I wiped my eyes with my shirtsleeves and stood up. I knew my mom would be able to tell I was crying, my face gets really red when I cry. I decided to rub some dirt over myself that way I could just tell her that I fell.

I hiked back down to our campsite and saw Steve sitting alone by the fire. I saw the silhouettes of my mom and brother inside the tent and started to walk towards them, but Steve stopped me.

“Jonny boy, come sit with me buddy. I’ll teach you how to play poker”.

“What about dinner,” I mumbled.

“We can eat while we play!” He tried to remain enthusiastic. Sometimes I really did respect his efforts. It’s got to be hard not to give up on a kid who so obviously wants nothing to do with you. Still, I looked at him and rolled my eyes. I went over to the pot of stew that was steaming above the fire and I made myself a bowl. I looked at him for a second and tried to gather my thoughts.

“I’ll just have my dad teach me after my birthday dinner.” I was shocked at the courage I’d mustered up to say that. But I was proud of myself for it. I felt another tear slowly form in my eye, and wiped it away instantly. I sat down across from Steve at the fire pit as I slowly ate my dinner and deliberately avoided eye contact. By now I couldn’t stop my tears, but this time I was lucky enough to be sitting in front of the smoke. An easy scapegoat for if anyone were to ask me what was wrong. No one did though.

• • •

I set an alarm on my watch for 5:45 so I could watch the sunrise at my overlook. I quietly unzipped my sleeping bag, threw on a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, and I slipped out of our tent. I tried to maneuver my way back in the darkness. The grass was glazed with dewdrops, and the water was calm. It was absolutely beautiful, I felt my eyes start to water, but this time for much different reasons.

My serenity was interrupted by the crack of a stick a few feet behind me. I jumped, and twisted around, expecting to see an animal that I would likely have to run from. Instead, I saw Steve. I turned to face the clearing just as quickly as I turned to face Steve, and I felt my insides swelling.

“Can I join you?” His voice was soft, almost pleading. I didn’t say anything. He carefully laid a blanket down over the wet grass and sat down, deliberately leaving some space next to him. He patted the space, gesturing for me to come sit with him. I glanced at his hand, but I didn’t budge.

“Listen, bud. As much as you may hate it, I’m not going anywhere. I love your mom a lot. She’s the most important thing in the world to me, and you’re the most important thing in the world to her. So you and your brother can keep calling me Steve, ignoring me when I talk to you, declining my company. I’m not gonna stop trying though, Jonny. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

I blinked to see if my tears had stopped. They had. I looked up at Steve, and saw that his eyes were damp. I gave him an ever-so-slight smirk, and moved over onto the blanket next to him. We didn’t talk for the rest of the time we were up there, but as the sun slowly made its way above the horizon, a smooth serenity flooded my entire being. Pure bliss. Once the sun was situated well above the water, I realized what time it was. 6:27 AM. I knew Steve wasn’t a morning person.

We silently made our way back to the campsite. When we got close, I noticed that my mom and brother were still in the tent. Steve sat down on a log next to the fire pit, debating whether he should start a fire this early. I watched him intently for a few seconds. Then I closed my eyes. I guess things really weren’t gonna change. I grabbed the deck of cards from the backpack that was perched up against the tent. I tossed them on the ground in front of Steve. His gaze drifted to the cards, then slowly up at me, eyes beaming with delight.