Page 8 of Beach B!tch
4
Dean
I got caught up talking with a group of guys in the living room when a young, college kid stumbled into our circle, wreaking of alcohol. He was a big guy, but young, the beard attempt more pathetic than rugged. With his hat on backward and his unsteady staggering, we all knew he was a mess. Before we could sort him out, he came up in my face and slurred his words, something about going to high school with my brother.
I grabbed him by the arms and moved him back from me, not appreciating the flying spittle leaving his mouth as he continued to talk to me in such close proximity.
"Dude, you know who I'm talking 'bout? Stefan, right? He your bro, man?" the guy kept asking me. Beer spilled out of his red cup as he gestured with his arms.
"Yes, Stefan is my brother. Let's get you to the kitchen for some water, man." I tried to calm him down and get him the help he needed. Esa wouldn't appreciate beer all over her floor.
He pushed back, hitting me in the chest. "That guy's your brother?! He can't fuckin' walk. I bet he doesn't get action from the ladies like you do, man. Huh?" The guy laughed, thinking he was hilarious.
My vision filled with a red haze where this dude's face used to be. Everyone hushed around us as they heard his insults. They knew something that this guy didn't: you don't fucking talk about my brother, or anyone else, with disrespect like that. And you sure as hell don't say that shit to my face like it's some big, funny joke.
The guy must have been too drunk to feel the heavy tension fill the room, instead continuing to laugh and nudging my chest like we were buddies.
I didn't even think. I just reacted.
I swatted his hand away from my chest, cocked my hand back and let it fly. Right into that fucker's nose. A wet crunch filled the air, right before he fell back, the crowd parting to let him fall.
My chest rose and fell as I was breathing hard, holding myself back from reaching down and continuing to pound the shit out of his face. A few years ago, I would have. But not now. Walking away was better for me and I was committed to being a better man than before.
I stepped back and spun around to get the hell out of the room before I fell back into old habits. The first person I saw was Brinley, standing frozen, her hand over her mouth, staring at the guy on the floor holding his bloody nose, moaning like the coward he was.
She looked up at me, her eyes wide with shock and horror. I took just one step to go to her and explain. I had to explain. I needed to wipe the stunned horror off her face and give her the reassurance I wasn't that kind of man. But that one step sent her in motion. She spun and ran from the room, out the front door before I could get a word out.
"Brinley!" I yelled to her back, right before the front door slammed shut, blocking her from my view. I was about to run after her when Ivan stopped me and asked what the hell had happened. I figured I owed him an explanation since there was now some dude bleeding on his and Esa's living room carpet. Brinley would have to wait. And if I was being honest with myself, I wasn't sure how convinced I was that I'd changed over the years, that I wasn't exactly who she thought I was.
Brinley - Past
I'd been so excited to come home for once. I'd worked hard to get good grades that year and had been rewarded that morning at our school assembly. In front of my whole junior high school, I'd received the Top Honors President's Award, which meant I had the highest grades in the whole school. The principal handed me my certificate and shook my hand after announcing my name into the microphone. I'm sure most of the student body didn't even know who the heck I was. But that didn't matter. For me, I was being recognized for doing something well. I wasn't the colossal screw-up my father said I was.
So I skipped home, excited to show my father what I'd achieved. This was it. I had proof I was a good kid, that I was smart, that I was enough. He'd see what a success I was and maybe even hug me like a dad was supposed to. Even after years of dark days, I remained hopeful some good part of my dad remained, and that today was the day we'd both see that good, even for a brief moment.
I found him in the kitchen, opening the 'fridge. He looked up when I entered, probably wondering why I was home so early. His expression darkened, and I knew I'd better launch into my news quick.
"Dad, guess what? I won an award today! I have the highest grades out of anybody at my school. See?" I held up my certificate proudly, scanning his face for understanding of how monumental this was.
He narrowed his eyes, scanned over my certificate, then turned and grabbed a beer bottle out of the 'fridge. He tipped his head back and took a long drink. I waited while he swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Dad? Did you see it?" I asked again with a little more reservation. This was already not going how I'd planned.
He swung his head over to me and asked, "Did they give you any cash or just that stupid piece of paper?"
"It's not stupid. No one else got this award, just me. Don't you see?" I was getting angry now as my heart dropped to its familiar place in my chest. Even with evidence right there in front of his face, he still couldn't, or wouldn't, see me. I was still just a nuisance, a burden he had to deal with every day.
"Don't sass me, young lady. What I see is a worthless piece of paper for a worthless girl. You think you're special now? If you're so smart, why don't you try getting a job and helping out around here for once?" His voice was getting louder and louder as he worked himself up. He took slow steps toward me, chopping his hands through the air. I shuffled backward till I hit up against the counter, no further escape afforded to me.
"I can't get a job, I'm only thirteen years old! You're the parent. You're supposed to take care of me!" I screamed at him, tears filling my eyes. I'd live on the streets before I let him see me cry so I clenched my jaw and instead readied myself for his strike. I knew I'd gone too far by yelling at him, but I couldn't help the words that came out of my mouth, born of bone deep disappointment. I should have known better than to hope there was any good left in him.
He lifted his hand as if to hit me. I closed my eyes and turned my head away, muscles tense as I waited for the pain to bloom. He was smart enough to never hit me in the face or anywhere else that could be seen.
The glass beer bottle shattering on the tile floor made my eyes pop open in surprise. The sharp, stinging pain in my knee made my mouth open and a whimper to escape. I looked down at my knee the same time my father did. There was a large shard of green glass sticking out of the side of my kneecap, blood seeping out of the wound and already running down my leg. The sight made me feel sick to my stomach and a weird, whooshing noise filled my ears.
My father grabbed my arm and picked me up. I shied away from him out of habit, thinking he wasn't done taking his anger out on me.
"Stop moving! I gotta take you to the hospital," he said while breathing hard, carrying me toward the garage. I turned back to look at the kitchen, my gaze caught on my award lying on the floor, ruined by a splatter of blood.
