Suzie’s House 80: In Comparison

Up, B, down. Splat. The little skateboarding figure on the TV screen hit the ground with a spattering of red droplets that disappeared almost as soon as they appeared.

“No, no no!” Gene yelled. “You aren’t doing it right.”

A week ago Ben would have been upset if over-sized, bad-rep Gene yelling at him. Today he curled his lip and snarled, “Lay off.” Gene crossed his arms in a huff.

Ben glanced out the window. It was already dark. He wasn’t sure how late it was, but knew he should be going home. Instead, he was playing Tony Hawk’s American Wasteland on Gene’s X-Box. He concentrated on the little skater. Down, up, B. Tony Hawk did something, but it wasn’t the move Ben was after. In frustration, he shoved the controller at Gene.

“You do it.”

“All right.” Gene got the controller faced the right way, then whipped through all the moves, one after the other, landing them all just right.

“No fair,” Ben grumbled. “You get more practice than me.”

“Yeah? So? It’s my game.” Gene handed the controller back. “It’s up, right, B. Try it.”

“Yeah. All right.” Ben took the controller. Up, right, B. And there it was! Just for a couple of seconds, but long enough to make him feel great – Tony played guitar while his board spun under him. Then the guitar disappeared like the fake blood and Ben was busy landing. “Did you see it? Did you see!? I got it.” Ben jumped out of the folding chair in front of the folding table where the X-Box was set up and pumped his fist a couple of times.

“Shhhhh!” Gene looked over his shoulder at the front door. “Keep it down. I think my old man’s coming home.”

There was a thump and rattle at the front door.

“He is.” Gene sounded all tense. He grabbed Ben’s shoulder hard enough to hurt. “Come on. You gotta get out of here.”

“But I just learned…”

“Come on!”

They made it as far as the hall to the kitchen, where Ben could see the back door. Then the front door crashed open. Gene shoved Ben into a side branch of the hall, and kept right on shoving.

“Hey!”

“Keep it down! Do you want him to hear you?”

Ben opened his mouth to ask why it mattered, but Gene covered it with his hand and kept right on pushing until he had Ben backed into his bedroom.

Dirty clothes, wadded paper, chip bags, and other junk covered the floor. The bed wasn’t made. Ben tripped and fell. Instead of helping him up, Gene backed out of the room.

“What ever you do, don’t make any sound and don’t come out.” He closed the door behind him.

What was with him? Ben flopped around, feeling the unpleasant crunch and crinkle of someone else’s garbage under him. Everything had the fine grit of crumbs. Ben struggled to his knees, and was trying to find a place to put his feet when he heard the first shout.

It sounded like Gene’s dad didn’t want him to use the X-Box. His words were muffled, coming through the door like they were, and slurred like there was something wrong with him, but Ben could kind of tell what he was saying and what he was saying was stupid. Who bought an X-Box for themselves instead of for their kid?

Actually, kids, Ben reminded himself. Gene had a little sister who was sleeping over with a friend, which, come to think of it, might be a good thing.

As he got to his feet, the yelling got louder. Not Gene. Ben could barely hear Gene’s low murmur over his dad’s deeper, rougher voice. Then came the sound of a smack. Had Gene hit his father? Or the other way around?

Ben stumbled to the door. It was like trying to run through quick sand. He shoved it open, and almost fell into the hall. The whole time there was more sounds of hitting. It was bad. Real bad.

When he popped around the corner and could see into the living room, Gene was curled up on the floor with his arms over his head and his father stood over him with an arm raised, ready to strike.

“Oh, my God,” Ben muttered.

The man looked up, burning eyes drilling into Ben. Alcohol fumes, sticky and nose-hair curling, wafted from the man. He lurched forward. For a moment, Ben thought the Gene’s dad was going to come over and wailed on him the way he had Gene. Instead, he lost his balance, righted himself, then straightened.

“You jus’, jus’ ‘member what I said, boy,” he said to Gene.

He turned on his heel, and staggered to the door, then slammed out of the house.

“Wow,” Ben said, looking down on Gene, who was trying to get to his feet. “And I thought MY dad was bad.”