4. “Tragedy”
Chapter 4
“Tragedy”
Taz - Age 6, 1976
T wo days ago, my life was good. I had beaten Sascha at a game of HORSE and had a great day. After school, my dad’s Camaro pulled up outside our school on time. He was happy, his long hair wild and wind-blown. I thought he must have gotten some extra sleep after dropping us off this morning.
As we hopped into the backseat, still buzzing with energy from the school day, Dad turned around and asked, “What do you say we grab pizza for dinner after Brian’s football practice this evening?”
Brian gave him a curious and skeptical look. “Why are you in such a good mood?”
Dad just shrugged and said, “Why not? Let’s live a little.” The sun streamed through the open windows, casting golden rays across his face, and I couldn’t help but smile. We sang and laughed the whole ride home.
When we got home, I was excited and searched for my Grandma to share my good mood. She was supposed to bring Farrah for a ten-day visit today. I darted around the house, checking every room in hopes of finding her. My heart raced as I burst into the spare bedroom, but all I found was a neatly made bed.
I met my dad in the living room and asked him where she was. “I’m not sure. Maybe she stopped to get groceries on her way here,” he replied.
Brian closed the refrigerator door after searching for an after-school snack. “I hope so. We’re out of food,” he added sourly.
“Go and get dressed for practice,” Dad said just as a rough knock sounded on the other side of the front door.
“Coming!” Dad yelled, his voice a mix of surprise and amusement as Brian grabbed me from behind and put me in a headlock, giving me a noogie as I twisted and swatted at him to no avail.
But then my dad’s voice cut through the air, hitting a pitch that made us both freeze. “No. That can’t be right.”
Brian released me, and we stood side by side, watching my Dad as he backed up into the living room, followed by two police officers. Why would there be policemen here?
My Dad frantically paced around the living room, his hand running through his hair, tugging and pulling.
“Sir, you’re going to need to come with us,” one of the officers said. “Is there someone who can watch these kids?”
“No,” Dad replied, not talking to anyone in particular. “I didn’t do this. I’d remember if I’d done something like this,” he said, his words clipped and urgent. He paced around the room while his eyes darted back and forth as if trying to make sense of whatever news he had just received. Or maybe he was looking for an escape.
A moment later, he sat on the couch and hung his head. He didn’t move or make a sound. I wasn’t even sure he was breathing.
My shaky voice shattered the stillness of the room. I wanted to go to him, but the officers stood between us, so I stayed put. With my feet glued to the shag carpet, I spoke. “Dad?” I managed to ask, “What’s happening?”
He lifted his head, his face worried, and turned to me and my brother. “I need you boys to stay here for a while. Your grandmother should be here soon. There’s somewhere I have to go.”
“But what about football practice?” Brian interjected.
“That’s not something we can think about right now. I have to go. I need to figure out what’s happening.”
My heart raced as I tried to understand. “Did you do something wrong?” I wrung my hands together, and tears spilled down my cheeks.
Dad hesitated before responding, his eyes flickering with sadness. “Look, I’ll be back as soon as I can. For now, just stay here and don’t get into any trouble.” His gaze shifted to Brian. “And Brian, watch your brother.”
He stood and turned his back to the officers, who put silver metal handcuffs on his wrists. Just then, Gram walked through the open front door with a bag of groceries in her arms, and Farrah happily trotted at her side. Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped as she took in the chaotic scene before her.
She set the groceries down on the dining room table and paused to speak quietly with the officers, her face wrought with concern, before turning to my dad to say something I couldn’t hear from where I stood. I called Farrah over and dropped to my knees, throwing my arms around her neck and using her as a shield from whatever the grownups were talking about.
She returned to Brian and I, as my dad was led out of our front door. He kept his head down the entire time and never once looked back at us.
I stood when Gram reached us, and she placed an arm around us. I felt betrayed as we watched what was left of our family crumble before our eyes.
Brian wrenched free of her hold and disappeared into his bedroom, slamming the door. I could hear him fiddling with something, and then loud music blasted through the thin walls, vibrating with every bass drop.
Gram entered his room, and the loud music lowered to a more manageable level. I could hear them speaking for a few minutes before she returned to me.
“Michael,” she said gently, her hand resting on my shoulder. “I have to go down to the police station. Brian will be here to look after you, and I’ll let the neighbors know you’re alone if you need anything.”
My tears fell onto my lap as I looked up at her with pleading eyes, “Do you really have to go?”
She sighed, her eyes filled with worry. “I do. I need to find out what’s happening with your father. But I promise I’ll be home soon.”
I nodded, trying to hold back my sobs. She handed me a tissue from her pocket, and I wiped my nose.
“There’s some bread in the kitchen if you want to make a sandwich. Don’t use the stove without your brother,” she said before grabbing her purse and walking out the front door.
As she left, the weight of the situation settled on my chest like a heavy stone. The house suddenly felt too quiet and empty. A sense of anxiety crept over me as I realized how serious things were for our family.
With a heavy heart, I made my way to the kitchen and mechanically prepared a ham sandwich, trying to distract myself from the fear and uncertainty that consumed me. I tried to take a bite, but it was too much effort to swallow past the lump in my throat. All I could do was wait for my dad and grandmother to return and hope everything would be okay.
My grandma still wasn’t back after midnight. I lay in my bed, unable to sleep, until eventually, I gave up and grabbed my blanket. With Farrah on my heels, I padded down the hallway and peeked into Brian’s dark room. He was asleep, so I made a little nest on the floor next to him and wrapped myself in my blanket, lying against Farrah. Having someone else in the room comforted me during this scary, uncertain night.
The next morning, the faint glow of dawn peeked through the curtains, waking me. My brother’s gentle snores could be heard from the bed beside me, and I carefully slipped out from under my covers. As I padded into the living room, the floor creaked beneath my bare feet.
I found Gram sitting on the couch with her head buried in her hands. I approached her cautiously, trying not to disturb her thoughts. I could see the sadness weighing on her shoulders as they bobbed slightly in time with her silent tears.
Without a word, I sat beside her on our old green sofa. Gently, I began to rub small circles on her back. She continued to cry into her hands for a few minutes; the sound of her muffled sobs echoed in the quiet room.
When she finally stopped crying, she looked at me with red-rimmed eyes and tried to compose herself. “Hi, sweet boy. How did you sleep?”
“Fine.” I lied.
She let out a sigh and then dropped the news on me. “So, your father made a very big mistake, and he’s not going to be able to come home for a while. I’ll be taking care of you.”
I nodded silently, feeling a little mixed up about everything. My stomach knotted up as I thought about what could have happened for her to drop everything and stay with us.
Brian emerged from his bedroom with a yawn and joined us on the couch.
“Brian,” she began, her voice heavy and tired, “something has happened.”
My hands clenched tightly around my blanket until it hurt.
“Your father is okay,” she reassured us. “Physically, at least.”
“Then why isn’t he here?” Brian demanded.
Gram took a deep breath before delivering the news. “He’s in jail.”
That’s where people go when they’ve done something really bad. What did he do?
“What did he do this time?” Brian asked nonchalantly.
I stare at my brother in confusion, wondering how he can be indifferent to our father’s troubles. Gram squeezed my hand.
“He was in an accident—while driving his friend’s car,” she revealed.
Tears welled up in my eyes. “But if it was an accident, why is he in trouble?” I managed to ask through sobs.
“You’re so stupid,” Brian scoffed at me, causing me to cry harder. “He was probably drunk or high like he always is. I bet it wasn’t even his friend’s car. He probably stole it.”
“Brian, enough!” Gram chastised.
“All you need to know is that your father isn’t returning for a while,” Gram said with a heavy sigh, her voice tight and defeated. “And you will come to my house for a while.”
The news hit me like a punch to the gut. I can’t believe it. I thought she’d be staying here with us. What about my home and my new school? What about Sascha?
“No!” Brian yelled, his voice laced with anger and hurt. “I’m not moving because my parents are losers! I have friends here. His problems are not my responsibility.”
His words cut through the air like knives, sharp and painful. Gram didn’t deny his accusations. Instead, she let out a weary sigh.
“Brian,” she said calmly, trying to reason with him, “you don’t have a choice. I’m very sorry things have to be this way, but I have to take care of things at home before I can think of staying here long-term.”
“I hate you! I hate this family!” Brian screamed before storming off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Gram stood up slowly, her kind eyes filled with understanding and love as she reached out her hand toward me.
“Come with me, Michael, dear,” she said, “Let’s pack a few things for you to take to my house.”
Feeling lost and confused, I reluctantly followed my grandmother into my room to pack for our stay at her house. I tried to push back the tears threatening to spill over as I thought about leaving my home and everything familiar behind.
That was two days ago, and today, the car is packed up as we move our lives to my grandmother’s for an unknown amount of time. I’m grateful to my Gram for being able to take care of us, but every time I think about leaving my home, I cry. It might not be perfect here, but it’s my life, and it’s all I know.
My thoughts shift from one subject to another, swirling around in my head like an angry storm. Brian hasn’t spoken in the past two days. Will he get over this change or use it to become more of a jerk than ever?
I miss my dad. When will I see him again?
I wonder if my mom would return if she knew what was happening. Would she care?
I’m taking everything I can fit in the car, especially the drawings Sascha and I did during art time. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to her before being forced away from everything I’ve ever known. That might be the worst part of all.