losing patience.
I felt trapped, stuck there listening to them argue. The only two places I could go to get away from them was the bathroom, though there were limits to how long I could reasonably stay in there, or Sylviaâs room, where all I could do was hang out with Sylâs ghost.
Sometimes I thought about it that way, Syl following me from room to room, watching over my shoulder. I tried not to let my mind think that way because if she could see me anytime she wanted that meant she could also see me when I jerked off in the shower. And there is nothing creepier in this world than the thought of your sisterâs ghost seeing you jerk off in the shower. Just like how I couldnât even think about going to a horror movie like the one I had seen with Chick. Maybe I would never be able to see a horror movie again without thinking about Sylvia.
I tried to populate my mind with some kind of happy memory about Sylvia so I wouldnât get caught up in dwelling on her watching over my shoulder or thinking about her as just a dead body, but it was hard. There werenât many happy memories to conjure from my childhood. Instead I would try to picture Sylvia the way she looked when I would see her around schoolâlaughing with her friends in the hallways or the cafeteria, something like that.
Aunt Gladys didnât know, didnât understand what it was like to have someone in your mind all the time, someone you couldnât apologize to or share your regrets with. I figured Mom thought about Sylvia in the same way I did. Like if she ever thought about being able to hug Syl one more time her mind would immediately wander to thinking about Sylâs body the way it was now, resting in its coffin in the cemetery, where we had left her to rot.
Mom and Aunt Gladys were still bickering when I banged out of the house and headed for Bad Habits to see if I could beg a free meal for dinner. There was no place else to run.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When I left my apartment I was headed for Bad Habits but then decided I didnât feel like asking for a free meal and, as payment, having to explain why I couldnât just eat at home. So I decided to stop by Chickâs instead and see if he was around.
I walked out to the Pike, only a few blocks from my house, at the intersection where the Goodwill backed up against the Laundromat, and crossed at the light. From there I could cut through the park to a large apartment building that rose up from behind the discount grocery store. It was an older building, in need of paint, and the lobby always smelled like either stale urine or pine cleaner, sometimes the two different smells fighting it out for dominance in the enclosed space.
Chickâs dad had been a recovering alcoholic for a long time. When he was still drinking he had a few serious falls, enough that it gave him some brain damage and he wasnât really right in the head. He wasnât mean and, in fact, was always grateful for company if I stopped by to see Chick. Chickâs mom had died when Chick was just a baby. I didnât know the whole story but she had been a drinker too, part of the reason why Chick was born with most of his health problems I always assumed, though you would never hear Chick say that. Sometimes Chickâs dad would talk about his dead wife, and the way he talked about her it was like he thought Chick and I knew her, would remember what she looked like or how she acted. It was almost as if he didnât realize how long she had been dead, as if she had died just a few months ago instead of when Chick was too small to even remember her.
The two of them, Chick and his dad, lived together in a small apartment. I was never really sure where they got their money since Chickâs dad couldnât hold down a job. I guess they survived on the disability check Chickâs dad got from the government. Chick had an EBT card he used for groceries. My family had never qualified for food
I felt trapped, stuck there listening to them argue. The only two places I could go to get away from them was the bathroom, though there were limits to how long I could reasonably stay in there, or Sylviaâs room, where all I could do was hang out with Sylâs ghost.
Sometimes I thought about it that way, Syl following me from room to room, watching over my shoulder. I tried not to let my mind think that way because if she could see me anytime she wanted that meant she could also see me when I jerked off in the shower. And there is nothing creepier in this world than the thought of your sisterâs ghost seeing you jerk off in the shower. Just like how I couldnât even think about going to a horror movie like the one I had seen with Chick. Maybe I would never be able to see a horror movie again without thinking about Sylvia.
I tried to populate my mind with some kind of happy memory about Sylvia so I wouldnât get caught up in dwelling on her watching over my shoulder or thinking about her as just a dead body, but it was hard. There werenât many happy memories to conjure from my childhood. Instead I would try to picture Sylvia the way she looked when I would see her around schoolâlaughing with her friends in the hallways or the cafeteria, something like that.
Aunt Gladys didnât know, didnât understand what it was like to have someone in your mind all the time, someone you couldnât apologize to or share your regrets with. I figured Mom thought about Sylvia in the same way I did. Like if she ever thought about being able to hug Syl one more time her mind would immediately wander to thinking about Sylâs body the way it was now, resting in its coffin in the cemetery, where we had left her to rot.
Mom and Aunt Gladys were still bickering when I banged out of the house and headed for Bad Habits to see if I could beg a free meal for dinner. There was no place else to run.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When I left my apartment I was headed for Bad Habits but then decided I didnât feel like asking for a free meal and, as payment, having to explain why I couldnât just eat at home. So I decided to stop by Chickâs instead and see if he was around.
I walked out to the Pike, only a few blocks from my house, at the intersection where the Goodwill backed up against the Laundromat, and crossed at the light. From there I could cut through the park to a large apartment building that rose up from behind the discount grocery store. It was an older building, in need of paint, and the lobby always smelled like either stale urine or pine cleaner, sometimes the two different smells fighting it out for dominance in the enclosed space.
Chickâs dad had been a recovering alcoholic for a long time. When he was still drinking he had a few serious falls, enough that it gave him some brain damage and he wasnât really right in the head. He wasnât mean and, in fact, was always grateful for company if I stopped by to see Chick. Chickâs mom had died when Chick was just a baby. I didnât know the whole story but she had been a drinker too, part of the reason why Chick was born with most of his health problems I always assumed, though you would never hear Chick say that. Sometimes Chickâs dad would talk about his dead wife, and the way he talked about her it was like he thought Chick and I knew her, would remember what she looked like or how she acted. It was almost as if he didnât realize how long she had been dead, as if she had died just a few months ago instead of when Chick was too small to even remember her.
The two of them, Chick and his dad, lived together in a small apartment. I was never really sure where they got their money since Chickâs dad couldnât hold down a job. I guess they survived on the disability check Chickâs dad got from the government. Chick had an EBT card he used for groceries. My family had never qualified for food
Similar Books
