Steven steeled himself for the conflict to come as his father,
Ronald, slowly entered the front door.
Ronald’s bleary eyes widened in surprise when he saw his 15 year
old son standing in front of him.
"Good morning Stevie, I was just across the street checking
on…"
"Save it dad," Steven growled, interrupting his father in
mid-sentence. "There’s no need to pretend
with me that you got up early and went across the street to the office. I know you spent
the night up there
again. Passed out on the sofa no doubt."
"Now wait just a minute son," Ronald said, trying to sound
stern, "You have no right to talk to me like
that! What business is it of yours anyway? Shouldn’t you be in school?"
"Dad it is Saturday. It is my business. You’re my father and
your behavior affects all of us. You stink
like an old brewery. Why don’t you get cleaned up and we’ll talk."
"Look here Stevie, you don’t order me around like that.
Where’s your mother? I want something to eat."
Steven looked at his father in disgust. "Don’t call me
Stevie. You know I hate that. Mom is not here. Now
go get cleaned up and I’ll fix you some coffee and a bite to eat, even though I am
not sure you’ll want it when
you hear what I have to say." Steven turned on his heel and stalked off to the
kitchen leaving his dad to wonder
what was going on.
Steven was pouring the coffee when his dad reappeared, his hair no
longer standing on end and the 5 o’clock
shadow gone from his face. "Well at least you don’t look like a drunken bum
anymore." Steven took a whiff.
"You smell better too. Here’s some coffee. There’s eggs and toast on the
table for you."
"Now just a minute son. I want you to tell me what the hell is
going on around here. Where is everyone?
And how dare you treat me the way you have this morning."
"Dad, I am here to tell you that you need help. Your drinking
problem is tearing our family apart. Mom never +
says anything and she always tries to cover up for you by cleaning up after your drunken
messes. But we see
the beer bottles. I hear her crying in her room when you are dug in across the street.
Even little Joey knows
something is not right and he’s only four. And then there’s Bill…"
"Now just a doggoned minute Steven! You talk like I am a
falling-down drunk. I only drink a few beers
every now and then…"
"Shut up, Dad. Just shut up!" Steven yelled, his hands
bunched into tight fists. "Every Friday night, 4 six packs
or several bottles of wine or a bottle of booze. That’s not normal and we both know
it. Not only are you killing
yourself, but you are not setting much of an example for us. Do you honestly think your
all-nighters across the
street go unnoticed? The bulging, tinkling, trash bags on the porch the next day? The way
things at the office
get mysteriously broken? Dad you are about as discreet as Bill Clinton!"
Steven glared at his father daring him to deny the charges he was
throwing his way. Ronald tried to meet his
son’s eyes, to assert his fatherly authority, but unable to deny his son’s
accusations, his head bowed.
Ronald raised his head and asked, "Your mom…is she
g…gone? Did she take Bill and Joey and leave me?
I can’t lose her."
Steven reached out and took his father’s hand, "No, Dad, Mom
hasn’t left you. But the news isn’t good.
You see Bill decided that if drinking was good enough for you, then it was okay for him.
He took Joey to the
mall last night and apparently, while they were there, he had several beers to drink. On
the way home, he ran
off the road and into a tree. Fortunately Joey was in the back seat. The seatbelts and
airbags saved their lives.
Bill is in jail this morning for being a drunk driving minor. Joey was taken to the
hospital with a broken arm and
some bruises. Mom is with him now…"
Tears fell from his fathers’ eyes as he grasped Steven’s
hands, "My God…I never meant…I never thought…
I have to get help for Bill and for myself. Now we are going to go to the hospital and see
how Joey is doing.
Then we will go see if we can get Bill out of jail. But first will you pray with me? We
need to thank God for
his mercy and intervention."
Steven nodded his head and held tightly to his father’s hand. He
was unable to speak, but hope filled his
heart. Hope that his family would be all right after all.
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