Restless Beasts In Burbank

The first time Sherry came over the front door had been busted open and hung limply from the hinges. The splintered wood frame split and separated around the deadbolt and left shards of glass and painted blue wood littered amongst the entryway and welcome mat. "Oh my god. Did someone break in?" she asked. I wiped the dust and water spots from the front window. Behind the lace curtain I saw empty bottles of gin floating through the sea of shag carpet. "No." I said, as if I were disappointed. "Must have just been a bad day at the track." I pushed open the door with my heel and shoulder, having to lift it up over the bottom hinge to get it to move. Our feet crunched the plates of glass that hadn't completely shattered and the little shards that already lay alone stuck to the bottom of our sandals and joined us into the next room. The air in the house was heavy and humid except it hadn't been moist outside, it must have come from in here. Sweat, stress, mid-day sober-up showers making bodies and led paint drip with dirty water. All of it lay thick through the living room like a foggy summer morning. I could hear the phone crying rhythmically off the hook. I wondered how long it had been that way. John's van wasn't out front. I wondered if he had seen them today.

I kicked an empty bottle of gin and it hurt my toe. Sherry did the same and laughed about it. It made me burn inside. It made me feel like a best friend was acting out of line with a family member and left you unsure of who to reprimand. Because of an awful case of pride it was usually the family member that received the tongue lashing even though it was the friend who deserved it. I laughed when Sherry laughed, but it only made me feel angry. I could see the new pool table in the adjacent room. The lights were off in there and Budweiser cans were haphazardly crushed and tossed onto the felt. I looked in the kitchen and it was clean.  It was always clean but not because we respected it, it had more to do with the lack of food. "This is creepy." Sherry said. "Are you sure you weren't robbed." Embarrassed, I assured her we hadn't been. "You'd have to be one dumb crook to come in here. My mom and dad have already pawned off everything worth anything and all that's left is used up or temporary." Sherry smiled like she didn't understand, but I knew about her family life too, I knew exactly how well she understood and that's why I wasn't afraid to bring her here. It was also why she was my best friend. We didn't have to hide anything from each other. We didn't have to pretend to come from amazing families and houses. We helped each other accept our situations and worked together to rise above them.

The TV was on low in the den. The antenna must have been crooked because all I could decipher was static hiss and the theme music from Happy Days. It was always Happy Days. We tiptoed in and strewn before us like wild animals locked in a zoo, were two naked bodies, depressed and helpless, draped across armrests and shaggy carpet. Dad had pissed himself and it had dampened the hair on his legs and formed a puddle near his hips. Sherry shrieked in disgust and then pointed out how he was still wearing his cowboy hat. "Yee haw!" she whispered. I didn't smile. On the couch was mom. Her face that looked like mine was hung backwards over the cushion’s edge. One leg was locked and straight and the other was thrown up and over the pillows like a piece of dirty laundry. Her hair was elegantly curled and her pale red lipstick was perfectly applied. I took Sherry's hand and lead her past the carnage into my bedroom. I locked the door behind us and put on the Shirelles. The nausea began to subside.

It wasn't the first time I had seen them this way. I stopped counting a few years ago when I was 11, the age they thought was appropriate to reveal their inner demons to their children. I wasn’t ready yet and even though I've grown used to it, I'm still not ready now to see my parents in that light, but they insist. They are adamant about drinking and chain smoking themselves into oblivion, the only place where their sorrows and woes are able to materialize and rekindle the flame they found within one another on the fringes of the Great Depression. Tom and Tommy, man and wife bound together by children and drunken love, but even inebriation couldn't hide their incompatibility forever.