You Call it Misery, I'll Call it Love

When I stepped foot inside my house that night, I knew I was in deep trouble. I hadn’t told my parents where I went and I know that they won’t be happy with me. My dad’s lying on the couch, completely wasted with yet another beer in his hand and my mom’s sitting there next to him with a book and a glass of wine.

“Where the hell have you been?” my mom asks me sternly. I sigh.

“I was with a friend, I forgot to tell you both,” I say. My mom laughs and shakes her head.

“Forgot?” my dad asks, sitting up. He takes a long sip of his beer and looks at me. “That’s not an excuse!”

“Hun, she forgot, it’s fine,” my mom tells him.

“No! It’s not fine! Mary, get up to your room!” he shouts to me.

“It’s Mary Kate!” my mom and I bark back.

“Don’t talk back to me!” he yells at me, completely ignoring my mom. He stands up and runs at me. I run away and head up the stairs towards my room and shut the door behind me and lock it shut.

I turn around and sigh heavily. I try to catch my breath, I’m completely out of air. I hate it when my dad yells at me and then lunges at me and I run away from him. It’s just the beginning. It always starts like this. I go to my nightstand and open the drawer. I dig out my full pack of Malboro cigarettes and lighter. I pull one out and stick it in my mouth and light it. I take a long drag of my cigarette and pull it out of my mouth. I open my window and sneak out on to the roof. I sit down on the roof under the maple tree. It’s raining, but that doesn’t stop me. This is the only peace and quiet I can get at home.

I hate smoking. I really do. I don’t know why I smoke. It takes the pain away from everything and gives me some peace. It’s a stupid reason to smoke, it really is. I should just throw away the damn pack and be done with it. But yet, as I finish this one, I take out another and light it up.

I hear the shouts and bangs from behind my bedroom door. I sneak back into my house and put the cigarette out and close the windows. My dad storms in and takes one step too close to me.

“What the hell’s wrong with you? You’re supposed to come home on Fridays and watch the kid with me!” he shouts in my face. He grabs my injured hand and holds it tight. “What’d you do now?” he asks.

“What do you think I did! It’s what you did! You fucking broke it!” I shout. I start to cry, the pain comes surging back and I can’t help but cry.

My dad grabs it tight and pushes me back against my bed and I fall back down into it. He pulls up his fist and strikes it against my face. It hurts as he swings and swings. I feel the pain the worst around my right eye. What is it with him and injuring my right side? He keeps swinging and swinging and I start to feel blood dripping down my face.

“Stop!” my mom shouts as she runs into my room. “Ron, get off of her!” she cries as he keeps swinging. “Get off!” she shouts louder. “She didn’t do anything wrong!” She grabs his arm and pulls him off and tries to throw him to the floor. Her attempt fails. He swings at her and she falls down. “Ron! Stop!” she shouts from the ground. She stands up and catches his arm just as he’s about to throw another punch at my already bleeding face. She grabs his arm and pulls him back. He finally stops.

“Go to bed,” she tells him sternly. She looks at me and sighs. “I’m sorry,” she says, pulling me up from my bed. She takes my hand and walks me into the bathroom.

“Sit,” she tells me and points to the toilet. She turns on the light and pulls the first aid kit from medicine cabinet. She grabs the gauze and cleans my wound. She then pours a liquid over my eye and it stings and burns.

“Ow!” I shout.

“Stop moving!” she pushes me back forcefully. She pulls out a stitching needle and some medical thread and puts her gloves on.

“What are you doing?” I ask frightfully as she puts the big needle up near my eye.

“You’re bleeding so bad that you need stitches,” she tells me.

“Why not take me to the ER?” I ask.

“Do you want your father to be reported?” she asks. “Huh?’

“No!” I say. I bite my tongue. For this, I do. I didn’t do anything wrong and I get a fucking black eye and stitches on my eyebrow for it.

My mom finishes the stitches and puts a piece of gauze over it and sends me off to bed. I go back into my room and open the window and grab the pack of cigarettes and go back out on the roof under the maple tree again. I light up a cigarette and take a long drag. It’s not long before I’m done with the cigarette and am drifting off into a deep sleep under the maple tree.
I wake up the next morning to the birds chirping. I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket and pull it out.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hey, it’s Darren, what are you doing today?” he asks.

“Not too much. I haven’t really thought about it,” I say with a yawn.

“Well, getting off the roof would be a start,” he says.

“Where are you?” I ask.

“In your driveway, or half way down it,” he says. “I can see you. Want to go out for breakfast?” he asks. I smile.

“I’d love to, I just have to ask,” I say.

“Well, go ask and I’ll be here waiting,” he says. I smile and say good-bye. I get back into my house via the bedroom window and walk out into the hallway towards my parents’ room. It’s a Saturday, they sleep in until like two, I swear. I open the door just a crack and tuck my head in.

“Mom?” I ask.

“Yeah, Mary Kate,” she answers.

“I’m going out to breakfast with a friend,” I say. “I’ll be back later, I have my cell.”

“Okay,” she says and then falls back asleep.

I run back into my room and grab my purse. I throw in a pack of cigarettes and my lighter and then close everything up and lock my door behind me as I leave the bedroom. I walk down the stairs and out the door. I run down my driveway and Darren drives up in the SUV. I laugh. He rolls down the window and I jump in the passenger’s seat.

“Wow!” I say. “How old are you?”

“18, almost 19,” he says. “You?”

“17 going on 18!” I sing. He laughs.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks.

“I haven’t a clue! Surprise me!” I say. He laughs and drives down my driveway and back on to the main road.

We drive along in silence until he turns on the radio and begins blasting Restless Heart Syndrome by Green Day. I laugh.

“What?” he asks.

“Kind of fitting, don’t you think?” I ask with a laugh. He looks at me and laughs too.

“What happened to your eye?” he suddenly asks, noticing that it’s all black and blue.

“I think you know,” I say. He nods his head and begins singing along to the song.

Minutes later, we pull into Val’s diner. It’s one of the only diners in town that serves breakfast. I used to come here a lot with my dad and sister before she went off and got married and had a kid. Back then, things were so simple. Dad didn’t drink as nearly as much as he does now and Jess was more fun to be around. We always used to do fun things together, it’d just be us three against the world.

“You know this place?” Darren asks me.

“Yeah, I love it here!” I say excitedly. He smiles. We both get out of the car and walk hand in hand into the diner. We find a booth and sit down and begin to look at menus.
I decide to order a fruit cup and a small plate of pancakes while Darren goes for the big waffle man plate, which is three Belgian waffles, two eggs and a side of bacon. Dad used to get that all the time and then complain that he couldn’t eat all of it and would give my sister and I each a waffle.

“How were things when you got home last night?” Darren asks.

“Shitty,” I say. “Black eye explains it all,” I tell him. He nods.

“It does.”

“I had a blast at your house though,” I tell him. He smiles happily.

“We should do that again then,” he says. I smile back. He reaches out and takes both of my hands into his. His careful touch makes me feel all warm inside. Like I’m safe with him and I know that he won’t let anything happen to me.

“What are we going to do after this?” I ask.

“Mm. I don’t know. My parents told me to use the car all day,” he says. “So, we’ll figure it out.” I laugh and squeeze his hands in mine. The waitress comes over with our food and bill and then leaves.

As we eat, Darren lists off all the movies he’s seen or wants to see or wants me to see. I’ve got to give it to him. He’s a film fanatic. He loves just about anything to do with movies. He talks about all of these Hollywood actors and actresses and directors and producers that I have absolutely no idea who they are. When we’re done eating, he places a twenty-dollar bill on the receipt and we got up and left.

Once back in the car, Darren drove us to the park, which was on the other side of town. We got out and started walking down on of the trails, hand in hand. As we walked, we talked about school and other interests of ours. For instance, he kept talking about movies and I told him about my sister and her son and husband.

“Huh, so she married a dentist,” Darren says. “So, what does that kill your dad? I mean, what if he knocks a few of your teeth out when he gets drunk enough to do so and they’re standing right there,” he says.

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it that way. My dad doesn’t do it in front of people, or at least he hasn’t yet. My mom’s one thing, but they keep it under wraps,” I tell him, shaking my head.

“Well, just something to think about,” he tells me. I’m still shaking my head.

“No,” I say. “I hate to think about it, I hate when he does it.”

“Then why do you put up with it?” Darren asks.

“Because he’s my dad and if I’m the on that puts him in jail, my family will shun me and that’ll be it! It’ll be over! They hate me enough, but I can’t report him for it,” I say.

“You love him,” Darren tells me.

“No shit! He’s my dad! He wasn’t always this bad!” I say.

“Then why—“

“Darren, please, stop! I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll deal with it on my own. I want to spend this day with you and only you. Not my problems and I don’t want you to get involved in mine, it won’t help,” I say. I feel relieved. He needed to hear that.

Darren backed off and we continued walking down the trail, still hand in hand. We walk and walk until we can both hear a stream trickling into a waterfall. We continue to walk along the trail towards the river. I feel this light pressure against my shoulder. I don’t think about until it gets worse. But then, I catch the cause of the pressure out of the corner of my eye.

“Poke,” Darren says. I laugh.

“You!” I say. “You?”

“Me? Me!” Darren repeats.

“You little—“

“You little what?” he asks.

“Bastard!” I shout. I break away from him laughing. I run down the trail and stop when I get to the river. It’s bigger than I expected. I can see everything from here. The mountains, the birds, the trees, the forest, I can see it all. I take in a deep breath and close my eyes. I feel his arms wrap around my waist. His chin rests against my shoulders. He breathes in deeply and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says. I put my hands on top of his and sigh.

“It’s okay,” I tell him.

“No, it’s not. As curious as I am, I shouldn’t overbear you. It’s your business, you hardly ask about mine, so I shouldn’t ask about yours,” he tells me. I smile and lean back against his chest.

“That’s fair,” I say. And that’s all he needed to hear. I spins me around and crushes his lips to mine.