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Chapter 2
Then came a huge blow. It sent shock waves through my house that caused unbelievable damage and set off a chain of events that would eventually bring us to where we are today. I was outside just in front of the house practicing my aim with the pellet gun that I had received from father for my birthday and he had shipped to me. I set up cans and bottles along the small white fence that bordered the front yard. I had never shot before so it was taking some getting used to. After a couple of boxes of pellets I was really starting to get good at it though. I was picking the cans off of the fence without hesitation, I think I am a natural. Just then a crow fluttered down out of a tree and landed on the fence. I instantly moved my aim from the soda bottle that I was currently concentrating on and zeroed in on the bird. It looked directly at me and cawed just as I lightly squeezed the trigger. I learned a little about pellets that day. I wasn’t sure that I had hit the bird, at first it didn’t move at all. Then the bird’s wings shot out and it started into the air. I thought shocked “I missed, it’s going to fly away.” It beat its wings hard and flew about three feet into the air before its wings gave in and it fell back to the ground. I could see it flipping around trying to get back to its feet. The pellet was true, it struck right in the middle of its chest where I was aiming. I felt incredibly proud as I strolled over to the little guy. It wasn’t making any noise but it was moving around a lot and I was worried that Jennifer would come out and see it. A few feet away there was a big tree that I used to climb when I was younger. Under it was a lot of landscaping rocks. I went and got one of the biggest ones that I could find. I thought about slamming it down onto the bird and hopefully killing it and effectively hiding it at the same time. But I really wanted to watch it die. I sat the rock on top of the bird slowly and gently making sure that I didn’t cover its head. It squirmed and wiggled for a little while, it was incredibly resilient but it finally gave in to the weight and I just sat and watched as its life dwindled out.
Feeling really good and really enjoying my Saturday I strolled back into the house and plopped down at the bar in the kitchen. Yet another room that was set up for entertaining but had basically become just another room for me to watch Jennifer gracefully move around. She was truly at home in the kitchen. She loved to cook and made some of the most incredible meals. Today when I came in from outside she was standing on the other side of the bar holding her phone to her ear and listening to something very intently. I could see a terrible look of worry on her face and tears in her eyes. I suddenly became very nervous. Something was wrong. She asked “Are you sure?” Then “I see, ok I will pass the word along.” She hung up the phone and looked at me. She was speechless for a few minutes and then walked around the counter and hugged me tight. I was starting to get really worried and I pushed her back and asked “What happened?” In as adult and strong of a voice as I had at the time. She said “I am so sorry Michael, but your father is dead.”
I heard the words, and I forced myself to tear up and start to cry. But I felt nothing, I didn’t care. I cried and held onto Jennifer, most importantly she held onto me. I put on the appropriate show, the whole time just wanting to get something to eat. I didn’t really know my father, he hadn’t been home in months and even then he came in late at night and by morning was gone again. I asked Jennifer “How did it happen?” She told me “All they told me was there was a fire at one of the sites and he didn’t get out on time.” I didn’t want to tell mom or be anywhere around when Jennifer told her. Even though his death didn’t affect me, it was going to crush mom and I couldn’t handle that. I hated to see her upset. I asked quietly “Can you tell mother? I need some time alone and I don’t think I can handle watching her cry.” She said “Of course, anything you need.” I smiled at her and headed up to my room, stopping to grab a apple off of the counter, I was starving.
I walked into my room and stood there in the silence thinking about what had just happened. I took a bite out of my apple and decided to see if I could find anything about the fire online. I sat down at my computer desk and pulled up Google. I typed into the search bar my father’s name, “Steven Joseph Scarborough” The first few results were just his Facebook profile and his LinkedIn profile. I clicked on the Facebook profile and waited for the page to load. There he was, a big smile on his face and for a split second I thought to myself that I wished I had known him. I started clicking through the posts and pictures and began to get angry. I saw pictures of a smiling man in a Hawaiian shirt standing on a beach. I saw pictures of a smiling man on the edge of a cliff that it looked like he had just climbed. That mother fucker was out living his life and loving it without us. He was happy not being here with us. I hated him. I could feel my skin turning red and my vision began to haze over but with a couple of deep breaths I brought myself back down. I tucked away the pain and clicked back and away from his Facebook and his happy life without us and found a news article dated for the day before. It read “HUGE FIRE AT OIL REFINERY 12 DEAD” I clicked on the headline and read through the article. There was my father’s name, among the list of the deceased. It was surreal to read more about my father in that article than I had ever known about him in person. And with that, I checked out. I was done, I didn’t want to know any more about him or the life that he led.
I turned off my computer and threw the apple core into the trash can. It was approaching dinner time and I wasn’t sure how that was going to play out tonight. I got up and went into my bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror and practiced a few sad puppy dog faces. I found one that said “I’m very sad and depressed and I am not sure what to do with myself.” It was perfect. I headed downstairs. It was very quiet in the house and I wasn’t sure what to expect as I walked into the dining room. I came around the corner and was a little shocked to see my mother sitting at the head of the table. She had a tissue in one hand. Jennifer was sitting to her left and my plate was set to her right. I got control of myself and went over to the table. I said “Hi” to my mother and kissed her gently on the cheek. She flashed a quick unimpressive smile at me. I sat down, pulled my chair in, and waited quietly for something to happen. Mother said “What are you waiting for you two, eat up.” And with that I started eating. There were no words exchanged during dinner, mostly because none of us knew what to say. When we were finished Jennifer cleaned up the dishes and I sat with Mother. She looked at me and said “He really loved you.” I mumbled “Yeah, I bet.” She looked offended but at the same time understanding. She spent the next 20 minutes crying softly and trying to explain his absence to me. I agreed and made my pre-selected sad face just to make her feel better. Then she kissed me on the forehead and told me she loved me. She got up and I watched her retreat to her room in tears. It broke my heart to watch her cry.
Jennifer brought desert out for the three of us, but after noticing that Mother had already left, me and her ate ours and split Mothers. She tried to console me some more and I put my sad face back on hoping for a hug and maybe even a kiss. We talked about what I remembered of my Father, about how even if he wasn’t home for Christmas or my birthday, there were always presents to be had. About how things were before he bought this property and how I think there was a time when we used to play together. It was interesting to me, as I looked back and realized that no matter how much he had done for me I never felt like he loved me. I never felt like he even cared that I existed. And with all of that said, I still don’t miss him.
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