Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Ker
To say dinner was tense was an understatement. Except to compliment his mom on the delicious turkey dinner with all the fixings, conversation was extremely light. To try and keep things civil, Colt became the focus of attention, and they managed to get though the entire meal as well as dessert without a fight breaking out.
Around seven thirty, Sharon bundled up Colt and herself, and they left. Colt had been getting fussy, and they all knew he needed his bed and a good night’s sleep.
Sharon hugged Ker extra tight and whispered, “Call me if it gets too bad,” in his ear.
Ker walked into the living room, afraid of what might come next. It turned out to be much worse than he expected. His dad had been sipping some whiskey since dinnertime. That had only loosened his tongue, so he started in again as soon as Sharon and Colt had left.
“I just don’t understand why you hate us so much!” his dad bellowed.
“What do you mean, Dad? I don’t hate you or Mom.” Ker was confused. Where had this line of thought come from?
“It seems to me that you do if you don’t want to fulfill your obligation to come back home and take care of us.”
“I guess I just don’t understand why you think it’s my obligation to come back and care for you? You’re both in good health, and I’m sure there are several good employees working for you that are completely capable of running the place without you.” He could hear his mom puttering around in the kitchen and wondered why she hadn’t come out to voice her opinion on the subject. She normally wouldn’t disagree with her husband, but Ker always held out hope that just once, she might stand up for him.
“Dammit, Ker,” His father shouted. “You belong here. In this house, with your mother and me. Not on the other side of the state, playing construction worker. I won’t have it.” He took another swig of his drink and stared at Ker. “Now stop this foolishness. I expect you to quit that damned-fool job by the first of the year and make plans to move back here. I won’t take no for an answer!”
“Just stop right there, Dad.” Ker matched his father’s pitch and volume. “I’m not fucking moving back here! Period. End of story.”
“Don’t you cuss in my house, boy,” he yelled. “I said you’re moving back, and that’s final.”
Something inside of Ker snapped. “I’ll fucking say whatever the fuck I want, old man!” he screamed. “You’re not gonna tell me how to live my goddamned life.”
Once again, he grabbed his coat and stormed out of the house.
Shit!
Fuck!
He couldn’t think clearly. His mind was racing, spinning around with all sorts of crazy thoughts.
Who did his dad think he was, trying to tell him what to do? Did he really think ordering him to quit his job and move back was going to work?
Nothing made sense anymore. Everything in his brain felt scrambled.
The snow had stopped, leaving a couple of inches on the ground, but luckily, Ker had a hat and gloves in his coat pocket, so he put them on and walked. And walked.
Walking hadn’t helped. It just made him more and more furious and frustrated. It was as if this person that looked like his dad had been replaced with a stranger.
It’s your duty. It’s your obligation. Why do you hate us? You need to be here to take care of us. Over and over again. The voices wouldn’t stop screaming in his brain.
He wandered through his old neighborhood for God knows how long, and when he finally got back to the house, he somehow felt even worse. Something had broken inside him that night. He couldn’t take it anymore. Feeling desperate, he could only think of one way to stop the demons inside his head.
The back door was unlocked, and the light over the kitchen stove was on, but the rest of the house was quiet. Fury still burned inside Ker. He couldn’t shake it. He just wanted to scream!
Quietly, he went up to his old room and grabbed his bag, then walked back out of the house, locking the door behind him. He thought about leaving a note for his mom but in the end, didn’t bother. He was too wound up.
He got on the road and drove home. Part of his brain was rational enough to keep him from speeding, but other than that, he spent the two-hour ride home thinking about one thing and one thing only. I need some oxy to stop the voices. I need them to shut up, and that’s the only way. Nothing else matters.
It was midnight when he rolled into town, and before he could change his mind, he pulled into his bank’s parking lot and went to the drive-up ATM. Money in hand, he drove around looking for someplace where he might find his old pal Cody. He remembered a seedy bar on a side street almost at the edge of town, and he was pretty sure Cody used to hang out there.
Sure enough, Cody was sitting at the end of the bar when Ker walked in.
“Ker, my friend,” Cody said when he sauntered up to the man. “Merry Christmas. Can I do something for you?”
It’s your duty, your obligation. You owe it to us!
“Yeah, I need something. Bad,” Ker spat out.
“Follow me.”
Cody slipped into the men’s room, and Ker followed. It was empty except for them, and as soon as the door closed, Cody, his voice slick and oily, said, “Oxy or something stronger?”
“Oxy,” Ker’s voice rasped. “How much can I get for two hundred?”
“Normally two dozen, but since it’s Christmas, I can give you thirty.”
Ker pulled the money from his pocket, and Cody handed him a small bag of white, oval pills. Transaction completed, Ker left, hearing Cody say, “You know where to find me.”
Why do you hate us? Come back and take care of us. It’s your duty!
Ker swallowed two pills dry when he got in the car, then drove home. There, he took two more with water and stumbled off to bed. Hopefully, the voices in his head would stop soon.
At one point, his bladder woke him, and he shuffled to the bathroom. He was still wearing his coat, so he pulled that off, dropping it on the floor next to his bed, and fell back in.
He felt all floaty and could barely hear those damned voices, and he drifted off to sleep again.
Time passed. Quickly or slowly, Ker didn’t know, didn’t care. He just wanted the voices to shut the fuck up. It wasn’t his job to go back to that wretched life in Fitchburg, no matter what his father said. It wasn’t, dammit!
When the voices got loud again, he’d pop another pill or two and drift off to floaty-land. He loved that feeling of rising above all the noise and clamor and just floating around, without a care in the world.