“Don’t start with that class warfare bullshit—”
“I don’t have to! They already did. You think I didn’t see how they looked at me yesterday? You’d think I was wearing a g-string and pasties—”
“Well, you weren’t wearing much else!”
Something else smashes into a thousand pieces, and I grab for Emerson’s hand, panicked.
“Don’t try and change the goddamn subject,” my dad snarls. “You’ve been stealing from me for your scumbag ex and your loser drug baby!”
Emerson’s fingers tighten around mine, his body rippling with fury.
“My son is not a loser!” Deb weeps, charging up the stairs, “And he’s not staying here in this house for another second!”
The entire world grinds to a standstill as Emerson’s bedroom door flies open. Deb appears in the doorway, thick rivulets of mascara coursing down her cheeks. Emerson and I stare up at her, entwined in his bed, as my red-faced father appears on the top of the stairs. The four of us are frozen in a surreal tableau, and for a second I hope against all hope that this is just another terrible dream
But in the next moment, reality floods back in.
“What the fuck is this?” Deb shrieks, falling back against the door in horror.
“We were just—We—” I stammer, looking helplessly at Emerson.
“Get away of my daughter, you piece of shit!” my dad roars, charging into the bedroom. He grabs me by my arm and wrenches me brutally out of bed.
“Dad, you’re hurting me,” I gasp, trying and failing to break free from his grip.
“Don’t touch her,” Emerson shouts, leaping to his feet and shoving my father away from me. He shields me from my dad’s wrath with his solid body, but my dad lunges for me all the same. The smell of booze seeping off of him turns my stomach.
“Are you drunk?” I gasp, staring at my father.
But his swaying stance and bloodshot eyes answer my question. I whip around toward Deb and see that she, too, is standing unsteadily, unable to focus on a single point for more than a second. It’s not even nine o’clock, and they’re both wasted.
“Jesus Christ, Mom,” Emerson growls, staring at his mother in disbelief. “Again?”
“Don’t you judge me,” Deb snaps, shaking her mess of wilted curls. “If you knew the sort of night I had…This man is a monster.”
“I’m a monster?” my dad returns, whirling unsteadily toward her, “You’re the lying, thieving whore—”
“Emerson, no!” I screech, as he cocks back his fist and slams it against my father’s jaw.
Dad goes reeling through the open doorway, and Emerson leaps after him. Deb collapses into a teary puddle as Emerson and Dad brawl on the landing. I rush toward them, ready to throw myself into the fray. But a loose punch from Dad hits me square in the stomach, knocking me back against the wall. Emerson snaps his face toward me, too worried about my wellbeing to focus on my dad. But in the moment of his distraction, Dad strikes back—sending a cracking blow railing against Emerson’s high cheekbone. A sickening crunch rings out through the house.
A scream rips out of my throat as Emerson stumbles against the second story railing. My dad tries to grab him by the front of his suit, but misses. In a burst of rage, Emerson grabs hold of my dad and slams him against the bannister, ready to throw him off the landing.
“Stop it! Emerson, stop!” I scream.
Finally, I seem to get through to him. With gritted teeth, he lowers my dad away from the edge, tossing him roughly onto the floor. He raises his blue eyes to mine, and my heart shatters as I see the furious tears streaming down his face. Stepping over my dad’s drunken, prostrate form, Emerson marches into his room and snatches his mother up by the arm. She can barely stand, beside herself with wasted emotion. Emerson swings her arm over his shoulders and all but drags her away, carrying her dead weight down the stairs.
“Wait,” I call out, my voice a strangled cry, “Emerson, where are you going?”
But he doesn’t answer me. He simply makes his way to the front door. I pull myself off the ground and race after him, grabbing for the back of his suit.
“Emerson,” I plead, clutching the bannister as I reach the final stair. “Stop. You can’t go. Not now.”
He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. Turning back to look at me, his eyes are full of hardened resolve. He’s shut his heart out of the equation, I know. And try as I might, there will be no reaching him now.
“Goodbye Abby,” he whispers, and wrenches the door open.
He guides his mother across the threshold and out to his Chevy. It isn’t until I hear the engine start that I sink down onto the stairs, hollow and cold. He’s gone. And this time, I know he won’t be coming back for me. I glance around the house, at all the artifacts of my childhood that were destroyed in Dad and Deb’s wake. But of course, it’s not the material things I grieve for, now. It’s my entire life as I’ve known it. The future that will never come to pass.
I sit there at the foot of the steps for hours, listening to my dad’s anguished groans from the landing. At some point, he manages to stand and pull himself into the master bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He won’t come down to check on me. Not in the state he’s in. But who am I kidding? Even at his best, Dad couldn’t be bothered to give a shit about me.
Numbness creeps through my body as I sit stock still, unable to process what’s happened to me. To Emerson. To our splintered family. Nothing that’s happened this morning makes any sense. What happened that set our parents to drinking like that? What was my dad saying about Deb stealing from him? And what about my grandparents’ interference with dad and Deb’s brand new marriage?
Chapter Eleven
It’s noon before I’m torn out of my shocked reverie by the sound of a car door slamming. My pulse picks up as I pull myself to my feet. Has Emerson come back home again after all? Is he here to help me make sense of all this chaos? The front door clatters open, and a familiar face appears—but it isn’t his.
“Abby,” Riley breathes, rushing to me. “Abby, what the hell is going on?”
“Riley?” I breathe, unable to focus, “Riley, what—?”
“Are you OK?” she whispers, her voice tearful. She takes me in her arms, brushing the hair out of my eyes. “Are you hurt?”