“What do we do?” Emma’s mother stared down at James as if he had turned into a lethargic crocodile that had crawled into her kitchen.
“We put him to bed and talk to him in the morning,” Emma’s father made it all sound so reasonable.
“Right.” Emma said with all the bitterness she felt. For once, she didn’t care if she sounded blunt.
It would be the same old story all over again. They would put him to bed, and by the time morning rolled around, everyone would be back to acting just like they had up until now. Her father’s promise to kick James out would evaporate. Her mother’s resolve would melt away. And Emma would be right back to dealing with all the abuse her brother could dole out.
In complete and utter disgust, Emma turned on her heel and marched off to her room. There was no point to staying now. It was silly of her to have expected anything from her parents. She would simply have to go it alone.
She visualized herself a great explorer getting ready for an expedition to the top of Mount Everest. She would need food, and water and a couple of changes of clothes. She pulled out a duffle bag and started putting in the things she might need.
No. That was wrong. She was going to be a runaway. So instead of packing for an expedition, she should pack two bags. One would have the change of clothes and such. The other would be all the things she didn’t want her brother to be able to get his hands on. She could leave this precious one with Tracy and Lisa, and live out of a backpack.
“Honey? What are you doing?” Mom stood in the doorway and watched.
“Look. Don’t… don’t worry… about it.” Emma grabbed her growing mask collection and put them in her duffle, and followed it with a journal and an MP3 player, then thought maybe she should have put them in differently and took everything out to reorganize.
“What are you doing?” Dad came up behind Mom then pushed his way into the room. “You are not going anywhere, young lady.” He grabbed the handles of the duffle.
“No! Let go!” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d shouted at her parents, but panic gave her determination.
“Honey, we already agreed to kick him out. Right? You don’t need to do this.” Mom tried to sound all reasonable, but Emma wasn’t buying it.
“That’s what you always say. But then you change your minds and let James do whatever he wants. Well I’ve had enough!”
Dad dropped the handles of the duffle and rocked back on his heels. He looked really, really surprised.
“So have I,” Mom said.
Emma flinched, more than half expecting Mom to hit her or something, but it didn’t happen. Not that Mom made a habit of slapping her, but it seemed the time to do it. When nothing happened, Emma blinked a few times.
“I don’t want to live with James, either. He’s a grown man, now. He should live with the consequences of his decisions.” This last part she directed at Dad.
“You’re right. You’re right,” Dad said.
It was Emma’s turn to be surprised. Could they really be taking her side?
“Well, th-then, what do we do?” Emma looked at them. “I-I’m not staying if, if he does.” She tried to sound sure of herself, but she really, really wasn’t.
A part of her hoped there might be real change this time. She had to fight off the urge to give in.
“I’ll… I’ll take him to a motel,” Dad said. “He can sleep it off there. Once he’s sober enough to have this conversation, we’ll talk then.”
All three of them went silent. They looked from on to the other as if to draw courage.
“That…” Mom hesitated. “That might actually be for the best. Emma, would that be good enough for you?”
Emma nodded. Her parents had never before done anything so extreme. “Yes. If he isn’t here, then… then I’ll stay.” She nodded again.
“All right.” Dad sounded really determined. “Then I’ll do it.”
He went into the kitchen where James lay snoring on the floor. Emma trailed along behind with a growing sense of wonder. Could it be? Could it really be?
“Help me get him to the car.” Dad got a shoulder under one of James’s arms.
Emma hoisted up the other side. She had to hold her breath because the smell of alcohol on his breath made her dizzy. Between the two of them, with Mom fussing and opening doors and wringing her hands, they got him into the passenger seat.
Dad slid in behind the wheel. The keys had been left in the ignition. He turned the engine over with a grim look on his face.
“Bye.” Emma and her mother both waved.
Dad paused, looking at both Emma and Mom with an odd expression on his face. He gave a curt nod, then backed out. Meanwhile the drunk beside him lay against the passenger door with his jaw slack and eyes closed.
It felt like it might be the last time Emma ever laid eyes on either man as Dad drove away.
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Blunt, Drunk, Lethargic
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