“Come on, man. Yeah, she’ll be pissed, but don’t you think you owe it to her to at least explain what happened?”
I turn in my seat irately and face Mac. “Why are you so pro-Alana? I broke her fucking heart, man. I did the lousiest thing you could do to a person. She’ll never forgive me, and I don’t expect her to. It’s over. In the past. And that’s where I want to leave it,” I snap.
Those words hurt so bad it feels like someone is deboning my chest.
Mac sighs. “Fine. It’s your stupid decision.”
“You’re right, it is. So fuck off about it.”
“Testy. You need to get laid.”
“I need...” I put my face in my hands. “I don’t know what I need.”
Yes, I do. I need Alana.
“Just take me home.”
“You know you can stay with me for a while. Might do you some good to be on your own.”
I measure Mac. He isn’t completely wrong. Sean and my mother would visit me while I was inside. On holidays and my birthday. Sean would surprise me on random days. But always by himself. Ever since I was convicted, my relationship with my mother has been strained. Like bordering on snapping. I resent her for so many things. I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to get over the past. And I don’t only mean taking the rap for Sean. For the neglect and the abuse and the drinking. At least she held true to her promise and kept Sean in one piece. She gets a gold star for that.
Mac pulls into my rundown, ghetto-looking apartment complex. It’s exactly the same as how I left it. Shabby buildings and trash on the road. Abandoned cars and kids hanging out on the corners. I scan the small crowds looking for Sean.
We pull up to my apartment, and my stomach flip-flops.
“What do you want to do, man?”
Moment of truth. Do I go with Mac, or get sucked back into the black?
“Let me go grab some stuff.”
Mac nods. He thinks I’m making the right decision. And I do too. They’ve lived without me for the last three and a half years and survived. It’s time I step out on my own. Sort of.
The front door is unlocked. I walk inside the apartment I grew up in, and it is eerily familiar. It still smells like smoke and alcohol. I walk through the living room and into the kitchen.
I. See. Red.
Empty vodka bottles. Tons of them cluttering the counter, accompanied by smashed out cigarette butts and half-smoked roaches in the ashtray. Not one goddamn thing has changed. I walk furiously into my bedroom and find Sean sprawled out on my bed. I slap his foot, startling him awake. He looks up at me with bloodshot eyes. “Ryan?”
“Yeah.”
Sean gets to his feet and moves to hug me, but I step back. I’m simmering with anger.
“What the fuck is all that out there?”
“Where?”
“In the kitchen!” I bark.
Sean pulls at his baggy jeans. “Mom. She started stressing knowing you were coming home.”
“So, she cracked open a liquor store?” I blast.
“Cut her some slack. She’s been trying really hard.”
“She’s a fucking alcoholic! She fell off the goddamn wagon,” I shout as the last three and a half years of bitterness and anger stew beneath my skin. “Not a fucking thing has changed!” I roar. “I gave up everything for you. For both of you. My girl, my freedom, my future. And I come home to the same fucking shit.”
“I didn’t ask you to give up anything for me.” Sean gets in my face.