Saturday Story
Please note that the below is a continuation of my first Saturday Story: Rags to Riches. If you’re new to my blog (welcome!) and you’d like to start at the beginning, you can find parts 1-5 here.
Give your life the green light. It’s A Go!
Amber Green
Rags to Riches
Part 16:
**Note from the author: Please note that this part of Rags to Riches touches on the topic of suicide. Rags to Riches is intended for an audience of adults/people in their late teens, but please be forewarned, just in case you don’t feel like reading about a dark, difficult subject in the perspective of my (fictional) characters. Thanks.**
***The below was revised on Saturday, July 28th, 2018 to reflect a more realistic timeline to treat alcohol poisoning (according to a trusted medical professional, a person suffering with alcohol poisoning would never be discharged from hospital the same day they were admitted).***
To Riches:
Money can’t buy you happiness. We all know this phrase.
Having lived with and without extraordinary wealth, I must say that I tend to agree with this statement. In and of itself, money and things won’t make you happy in the long run, but in my opinion, excess money allows you to pay the bills without worry, and provides you with the security to live life the way you choose to live.
If you choose to be happy, wealth, and even financial security may make it a little easier to relax and find joy. If “being happy” isn’t on your ‘to-do’ list however, you’re doomed to live in gloom and misery, no matter the expense of your designer clothes and square footage of your home.
When I think about the hard times I experienced in life prior to having money, I don’t think wealth would have changed them too much. The other day, I was reflecting on that time that my brother, Chris, was admitted to the hospital with alcohol poisoning. It was years ago, but I don’t think I would have handled the situation differently, reacted differently or felt differently had we had money at that time. I wonder if Chris would agree with me? I thought to myself.
……
From Rags:
I hope that Chris is going to be fine. Please let my brother be okay, I thought for the millionth time, as my sister, Priscilla and I sat in the waiting room of the hospital.
Dave, Chris’s boyfriend, found Chris suffering from alcohol poisoning and called us from the hospital. He sat with us as we waited for news on Chris’s condition, and for our mom to arrive.
“I don’t understand how this happened,” Priscilla said. “Who drinks that much alone?”
I gaped at her, as I allowed myself to consider what my sister was asking for the first time since receiving Dave’s phone call. “What are you talking about? Do you think he did this on purpose?” I asked her, bewildered.
“Well, I don’t know,” Priscilla said, backtracking. “It’s just- it’s not like he was at a frat party, and got caught up in the moment. He was drinking at home alone.”
I turned to Dave, “Did he take anything else? Were there pill bottles around when you found him?”
Dave adopted my look of bewilderment as his own. “No, no,” he shook his head quickly without a shadow of hesitation. “God, no. Your brother has been down lately- because he misses your dad- but no, there has been no sign that he’s suicidal.”
“I hate to say it, but I think that’s what most loved ones of people who die by suicide think,” Priscilla said, surprisingly obtuse. Dave blushed, worry darkened his features; he looked like he might cry.
“I’m sure that you’re right, Dave,” I said, trying to comfort him. Then, I looked at my sister, “Jesus, Priscilla,” I snarled at her quietly. “Please, PLEASE don’t talk like that when Mom gets here,” I said.
“Of course not,” Priscilla said testily, clearly insulted that I would remind her of something so basic.
We sat in silence for a couple of minutes, listening to the beeping of the life-saving machines, watching doctors, nurses and other medical professionals go about their day, as their patients and patients’ loved ones were just trying to make it through their own terrible time. I could never do this work, I thought to myself. Thank goodness there are people who want to work in the ER.
I stood as I saw my mom entering the waiting room. Priscilla and Dave followed suit.
“How is he? What have you heard?” my mom said as she hugged all of us, her eyes alight with fear and unshed tears.
“We’re waiting to hear, Mom,” Priscilla said, gently, just as a doctor walked up to us.
Before the doctor could speak, our mom turned to him and said, “I’m Chris Bruno’s mother. How is he?”
“Mrs. Bruno, I’m Dr. Hall. Chris was admitted to the ER, as he was suffering from alcohol poisoning; fortunately, he has regained consciousness.” All of us sighed in relief. I relaxed a little for the first time since answering Dave’s call.
“Thank goodness,” my mother said. “When can I see him? When can he go home?”
“We have to run a few tests as alcohol poisoning is very serious- especially when the patient loses consciousness- but he should be fine to go home in a few days. We’ll let you know soon,” Dr. Hall explained.
“Okay. I’ll be here as soon as you can tell me anything. Thank you,” our mom said.
“Thank you,” we echoed, as Dr. Hall walked away.
I exhaled another sigh of relief, as we sat down.
“Thank you for getting Chris to the hospital, Dave,” my mom said, earnestly.
“No problem, Mrs. Bruno,” Dave said.
“I guess Dad is not outside parking the car?” Priscilla asked, with an edge of both sarcasm and frustration.
“No,” our mom replied, stoic in her tone. “But I should call him to let him know that Chris is okay,” she said, standing with her purse in hand.
“Why? He didn’t come. Let him wait,” Priscilla argued, her voice rising in volume, as she raged. Seeing our mother’s embarrassed expression she continued, “What, mom? Chris could have died, and Dad’s not here. What the hell is wrong with him?”
“Priscilla,” our mom said, in warning. “Lower your voice, please,” she said icily, briefly looking around at a few people that surrounded us.
Priscilla looked at our mom defiantly for a moment, but dropped the argument as she reached inside her bag for her phone. “I have to call Luke,” she said, and then stalked off.
“I’ll be right back,” my mom said to Dave and me, and walked away.
“Sorry about that,” I said to Dave.
“That’s okay. I understand,” Dave said.
“Well, I’m glad you do, because Priscilla and I don’t,” I said, referring to our father’s issues with his son’s homosexuality. Dave gave a small shrug and sad smile in response. I was beginning to really like Dave. He seemed like a solid guy, and certainly responded well in a crisis (which, apparently, my family and I were prone to experiencing rather frequently).
Priscilla appeared a few minutes before our mother came back. “I spoke to Luke; he and I think that Chris should stay with us for a few days after he is discharged,” she said.
“I don’t mind helping Chris out, if he needs,” Dave offered.
Oh my gosh, both of my siblings hit the jackpot in terms of spouses, I thought.
Priscilla smiled, “Thanks, Dave, but I’m already going to have to fight with my mom to let me take him. She’ll want Chris to stay with her, but given the tension between our father and Chris, I think it’s best that he stay with me,” my sister explained.
“Okay,” Dave agreed. “I’ll be right back,” Dave said, and walked towards the men’s washroom.
“Okay,” I responded. Then said to Priscilla, “Oh my gosh, he’s a good guy.”
“Yeah, I like him,” Priscilla agreed. “Hey, do you want to stay over for the first night, too? If Chris is feeling up to it, I think we have to figure out where his head is with all of this,” she reasoned.
“Yeah, sure. I’m sure the doctors’ will be wondering that, too,” I wondered aloud, as we contemplated Chris’s drinking habits and mental state. “It’s been a long day. Do you think I could stay at your house tonight? We could get a game plan together about what we’re going to say to Chris. Besides, I don’t really feel like rehashing everything with Anna,” I said.
“You two have been roommates forever! Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. We’re not as close as we used to be. I don’t know if it’s her, or me, or… nothing.”
“You can stay with us. Do you want to go get your stuff now?”
“Yeah, okay. Text me if you get any updates,” I said.
“Okay,” Priscilla agreed.
……
It was nice to have a few minutes to myself as I drove home to gather my things. I knew that I would feel better once Chris was discharged from the hospital, but I was certainly not as scared as I had been.
When I arrived at home, I parked the car and went inside. Not wanting to waste time, I headed straight to my bedroom. Before I even got up the stairs, Kevin my on-again, off-again boyfriend exited one of the bedrooms in his boxer shorts. But he didn’t come out of my bedroom. He came out of my roommate’s bedroom.
Our eyes met. We looked at each other in shock, though we were surprised for very different reasons.
………
Part 17:
To Riches
It was a lot of work. Looking back, I was happy, but maturing into the person I am today was difficult. Don’t misunderstand me, I enjoyed my years as a single woman, but if I were to ever have to live without the person I feel I’m meant to spend the rest of my days with- well, it would render me emotionally bankrupt, regardless of my net worth.
He’s a good man. I’m so happy we found each other.
From Rags
Time stood still. It was as if we were stuck in a tableau of a cheesy soap opera- Kevin, my on-again off-again boyfriend of many years was standing before me in his boxer shorts. This is, of course, something he’d done many times before, but having just come out of my roommate’s bedroom, my mind scrambled to process the scene before me; I have no idea how many seconds went by before I found my voice. He spoke first.
“Fr- Frankie, uhhh,” he stammered. I didn’t give him the time of day. As if on autopilot, I headed into my room to gather my things. “-This isn’t what it looks like,” he said, stupidly from behind me.
That was it. That was the line that was a passcode to activate my personal ‘crazy button.’ I turned to face him; my voice was quiet, but I saw red.
“It looks like you’re sleeping with my roommate, Kevin. What else could it possibly look like?” I spat. He stepped one foot into my bedroom. “STOP!” I yelled. “Don’t you come any closer.” Hands shaking, I threw some stuff into a bag. I was going to head back down the stairs, but I thought better of it, and barrelled through the hallway, passing Kevin on the way to Anna’s room.
“Whoa, Frankie,” Kevin said, as he tried to prevent from opening her door.
“Shut up, Kevin!” I flung her door open and entered Anna’s room. Like a coward, she had stayed in her room, and was standing in her robe, looking scared. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, as if she was trying to say something, but couldn’t find her breathe. She looked like she was going to cry.
I’m embarrassed to admit that though I’m not a violent person, I could have hit both of them. I didn’t. Instead, I looked her right in the eye and said, “Anna, I don’t know how long this has been going on, and I don’t care. You called yourself my friend? My best friend,” I scoffed. I stepped towards her, “Whatever you tell yourself to make this okay- whatever you tell yourself to let yourself off the hook, just know that it’s BS. You’re no friend. Pack your stuff and get the hell out. You two deserve each other,” I said icily.
I stormed out of the house, and jumped into the car. My instincts had been correct. I had thought that something was going on, but I had ignored the red flags.
Angry, sad and sick over Kevin’s betrayal and emotionally drained from the fear of potentially losing my brother, about a block from the house, I burst into tears. If ever there was a terrible day, this was it.
………
Part 18:
To Riches:
It didn’t matter how much money my sister gave us, I could never buy my father’s approval.
We’d come a long way over the past few years. I went from being his beloved son to a pariah of sorts, all with one small (albeit important) admission of truth. The announcement that I am a gay man went off with the power of a nuclear bomb in terms of the destruction it rendered in my relationship with my father. At the time, it felt like what remained lay in tatters when the dust settled. Here driving alone with my father, I was worried that my next announcement would send him over the edge, yet again, into a nuclear wasteland, which would send me head first in a downward spiral of outdated judgement and standards I had never consented to be measured against. None of us volunteer to be judged based on our parents’- or family members’- view of the world; still, it was exhausting to fall short of my father’s preconceived notions of what a man’s- his only son, in particular- sexual orientation should be. But what could I do? I am who I am.
“What’re you thinking about, Chris? You’re awfully quiet,” my dad said, looking over from the driver’s seat.
Chris’s mouth went dry. He was scared of his father’s reaction, but he knew that he had to tell him before tonight. Chris cleared his throat as he braced himself for yet another helping of his father’s disappointment. “Dad, can you pull over? I wanna tell you something.”
“Okay,” he replied, as he safely pulled to the side of the road. He killed the ignition and shifted in his seat to look at Chris. “What is it?”
Chris took a deep breath. “Dad, I’m- I’m going to ask Dave to marry me.” There, I said it. Chris held his breath as he waited for his father to reply.
Carlos broke eye contact with Chris and shifted again, so that he was looking out to the road. He took a deep breath, and Chris felt himself break into a sweat. “You’re lucky you’re with Dave; no woman that wanted to get married would’ve waited for a proposal for this long.
Chris exhaled a sigh of relief that was as forceful as if he’d been under water for the last 90 seconds. Chris smiled, hesitantly, as he looked over at his father.
“How does that work between men anyway? Like, who’s supposed to propose to whom?”
“Well, there’s no rule, Dad- it’s just whoever asks first, I guess,” Chris replied.
“Was that all you wanted to talk about?” Carlos asked, as he paused before restarting the car.
Chris smiled without hesitation this time, “Yeah, Dad. That was it.”
They drove for a couple of minutes before Carlos spoke again. “Will Dave take our name?”
“David Bruno?” Chris asked. “I don’t know. It’ll be up to him, just like it is for any married couple.”
“Mmm,” Carlos nodded, as he continued to look at the road.
Chris relaxed for the first time in weeks. Fear of his father’s rejection ebbed away, and excited energy began to set in. This time tomorrow, Dave and I may be engaged, Chris thought happily.
……
From Rags:
The next couple of days passed in a tear-soaked blur. My sister, Priscilla and her husband, Luke, welcomed me into their home until I could sort through my emotions; I had discovered that my boyfriend, Kevin, was cheating on me with Anna, my roommate and best friend (or so I had thought) on the very day that my younger brother, Chris had been admitted to the hospital for alcohol poisoning.
I told my sister everything, but kept my mom in the dark. Though she and I are close, she was dealing with enough- especially since my brother still hadn’t been discharged from the hospital, and my father had not swallowed his pride and gone to visit their only son (he had been pretending that his only son did not exist after finding out that Chris is gay. After which, my brother drank himself into unconsciousness, and landed in the hospital).
I knew that my mom would have some very choice words once I finally tell her about what happened between Kevin and me. She had run hot and cold in regards to my relationship with Kevin from the very beginning. Call it mother’s intuition. I knew that she would be very upset by both of Kevin and Anna’s actions and betrayal.
For one reason or another, each member of my family seemed to be living in a state of emotional turmoil.
My sister, Priscilla, carried on like the warrior we knew her to be. She made sure that I was comfortable in her own home, checked on my brother at the hospital twice a day, ran errands for our mother and carried on in her own life as a working woman, wife and mother of three young boys. Upon staying with her for a couple of days, I was agog at how she managed to keep everything running so smoothly. Superman had nothing on my sister.
“How are you doing all of this?” I asked my sister in state of awe the third day I was at their house.
She looked up at me from her smartphone (from which I suspect that she was busy answering work emails) as if perplexed by my question. “What do you mean?”
“This-” I said as I motioned to the neatly folded laundry, bags of shopping, a completed ‘To-Do’ list (the first I’d ever seen in my life, by the way). “-I mean, how can you possibly do so much in the same 24 hours that all of us have? Do you have a DeLorean in the garage? Perhaps Hermione’s time-turner?”
Priscilla smiled, “Frankie, when you have a family, you just figure it out.”
“You must be exhausted,” I said, ignoring her explanation.
“I’ll relax once Chris is out of the hospital, okay?”
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed. “Did the doctor say he could be discharged tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Priscilla said with a sigh of relief.
“And Mom is okay with him staying here?”
“Well, I know that she would prefer that he stay with her, but Dad is still being…” words failed her as she trailed off. She shook her head as she struggled to find the word that would describe the man who was being stubborn and cold, but who was the same person all three of us had looked up to our entire lives. Priscilla is a protector, a natural guardian to all of us, and until this time of turmoil with our brother, we had always known our father to be the same way.
“I know,” I said, allowing my sister’s sentence to remain unfinished.
She sighed. “I invited Dave to drop by tomorrow evening after he’s finished work. He wants to be there when Chris is discharged, but he can’t leave work until the evening.”
“That was nice of you to invite him. Dave and Chris make a cute couple.”
“Yeah, they do,” Priscilla agreed. “I have to get things ready for Chris.”
“He can have the basement; I’ll take the living room. It’ll be better for him to have some space,” I reasoned.
“Are you sure? I’m sure CJ wouldn’t mind staying in his little brothers’ room for a while.”
“No, no,” I said. “Thanks, but I don’t want to disrupt the kids’ lives more than we already are. Plus, would they ever stop fighting?”
Priscilla smiled, “CJ is used to his own space.”
“Don’t worry about the basement. I’ll get it ready for Chris.”
……
The next day, Priscilla and I drove to the hospital to pick up our brother. Our mother was already there. I was hoping that our father would have joined her, but he was nowhere to be found. I could tell by the crestfallen look on my sister’s face that she too had been hoping the same thing.
“Hi girls,” our mom said as she hugged us hello.
“Hi mom,” we said in turn.
“They just told me that it’s going to be a little while before Chris is discharged. Everything’s fine, but they’re running a bit behind.”
“That’s okay. We’ll wait,” Priscilla said. “So, Dad’s not here, huh?”
My mom’s pursed her lips into a tight line. “No, Priscilla,” my mom answered in a mildly aggravated tone.
“I know that you two are the kind of couple that maintain a united front, but this is ridiculous, Mom. I know- we know-” Priscilla motioned to me, “-that you don’t agree with Dad on this. So what’s going on?”
Our mother’s cool facade cracked momentarily. Her shoulders slumped, then she raised her hands in surrender. “What do you want me to do, Priscilla? Hogtie your father, and drag him here?”
“Yeah,” Priscilla said. “If that’s the only way to get him in the same room with Chris, then, yes.”
“We’ll help you, Mom,” I said with a small smile.
My mother sighed. “As difficult as that would be, I wish it were that easy.” She looked off for a moment, and then returned to the task at hand. “Mrs. Viola asked me to run a few errands with her today. I thought Chris would be ready by now, but if I’m going to help her, I have to leave now. The poor woman and her cats need groceries.”
“That’s okay, Mom. You can go. We’ll get Chris back to Priscilla and Luke’s,” I said, reassuring our mother that everything was fine.
“Okay,” she said, still hesitating. “I’ll go say goodbye to Chris, and you guys call me later to let me know that everything is okay, please?”
“Of course,” Priscilla said.
With that, we said our goodbyes, and our mother walked down the hall to see Chris before leaving the hospital. My sister and I sat staring at our phones for a while before we saw Chris being wheeled towards us.
“Hey,” Chris said. “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he said referring to the wheelchair. “It’s just hospital policy.”
“Hey, little bro,” I said, in greeting. Chris looked pale and tired, but I was so happy that he could finally come home.
“Hey,” Chris said as he quickly hugged Priscilla and me.
“Let’s go, guys. We’ll catch up at home,” Priscilla said, aware that the hospital attendant pushing our brother had other tasks to complete that day.
We piled into Priscilla’s car and she was just backing out of the parking space when Chris said, “Damn. Guys, stop.”
He didn’t speak loudly, but Priscilla and I jumped. “What? What is it?”
“Do you not feel good?” Priscilla asked, concerned.
“No, no, I’m fine. It’s just- I forgot my phone charger.”
My sister and I exhaled in relief and rolled our eyes into the back of our heads.
“Boy, you two are jumpy,” Chris said, smiling.
“No, you think?” Priscilla asked sarcastically.
“I’ll go get it,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt.
“Thanks, Frankie. It’s plugged into the wall on the far side of the room.”
“Okay.”
I got out and made my way back to Chris’s former hospital room. Fortunately, no one was occupying the space yet, so I was able to get in and out quickly. As I looked down the hall towards the exit, I saw a familiar hulking figure. I walked towards him. “Dad?”
He turned. “Hey Franca,” he said quietly.
“Hey, dad,” I said as I gave him a hug. “Chris is in the car. Do you want to walk out with me?”
For the first time in my life, my father looked unsure. He avoided eye contact for a moment, and looked embarrassed. “Is he okay?” he asked, as he avoided my question. I noticed that his eyes looked a bit puffy. The harsh fluorescent light bounced off his misty eyes.
“Yeah, Dad, he’s okay. Dave made sure that he got to the hospital in time,” I said. “Are you sure you don’t want to walk out with me? Say hello?”
“Uh- uh, no, no. I- I have to get going,” he said quietly.
“Okay,” I said. He started to walk away.
“Dad?” I called after him. He turned to me. “I love you. We- we love you.”
My father nodded, raised his hand like he was waving goodbye, and continued towards the exit.
I guess we won’t have to hogtie him after all, I thought.
…………
Part 19:
To Riches:
“Cheers,” Dave’s Uncle Charlie said, as he and Dave clinked their cocktail glasses together.
“Salute,” Chris said as he joined in with a glass of club soda and lime.
They sat in one of the most exclusive restaurants in Los Angeles, ready to enjoy a decadent meal in celebration of Dave’s Uncle’s new relationship.
After taking a sip, Chris said, “I really feel odd toasting your relationship without your girlfriend here to enjoy it.” Dave chuckled.
“Alexis will be shortly, I’m sure,” Charlie said happily, “until then, boys, let’s toast to the end of twenty years in the closet.”
Chris and Dave looked at each other in confusion. “Uncle Charlie,” Dave began, “thanks, but Chris and I weren’t in the closet for twenty years- I mean, each of us were in our early twenties when we came out, but-“
“No, no, my dear nephew, I mean me. Alexis is a man,” Charlie smiled bashfully. “Because of your and Chris’s bravery, I decided to live in my truth at long last,” Charlie said, in earnest.
Chris and Dave looked at each other again. Dave was clearly taken aback as he looked at his uncle, but he smiled widely. In his moments of speechlessness, Chris assumed that Dave was doing a mental inventory for the clues to this long-held secret that he must have missed throughout his life.
“We’ll toast to that all night long,” Chris said happily, as he raised his glass for a second time.
From Rags:
I walked back to the car with Chris’s phone charger in my hand. With everything going on in the past few days, I was relieved that our father had come to the hospital to find out how my brother- his only son- was doing (even though he chose not to see Chris yet). A small step as it was, it was still progress.
While a young man coming out as gay is no big deal in many families, there are still those who condemn such a lifestyle for one reason or another. The harsh- and unfair- reality is that some people don’t get even small steps in repairing their relationship with family members who did not agree with homosexuality, I thought sadly. Fortunately, it looked like my brother and our father would one day speak again.
I got back in Priscilla’s car and handed the charger to Chris. I was happy that after such a turbulent time, my siblings were laughing at something as I settled in to my seat.
“Thanks,” Chris said, taking the charger I passed to him.
“No problem,” I said. I hesitated for a second; I didn’t know whether I should tell my brother that our father had in fact come to see how he was doing.
My seemingly clairvoyant sister picked up on the fact that something was off. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing- nothing, it’s just- it’s…” I hesitated, worried about how Chris would react to the news.
Chris joined my sister, now in a joint-quest to find out what was causing my stammering. “It’s okay, Frankie. Take your time.”
Chris and I made eye contact. “I saw dad.” Priscilla’s eyes widened and Chris looked away. He occupied himself by tearing at the label on a water bottle in the cup holder beside him. “He asked how you’re doing, Chris, but… he- he had to leave.” I said, sparing my brother’s feelings by omitting that our father chose not to walk out with me to see Chris for himself.
“That’s nice,” Chris said quietly.
“About time,” Priscilla said, under her breath, clearly the hardest to impress- and only parent- among the three of us. “Shall we go home?” she asked cheerfully, trying to break the awkwardness and brighten the mood.
“Yeah,” I said.
……
It had been a quiet drive to Priscilla and Luke’s house; my siblings and I lost in our own thoughts.
After Chris was settled in the basement and enjoyed relaxing for a while, he and I hung out with our nephews while Priscilla and Luke made dinner. It was nice to see the kids laughing and playing with Chris. CJ- Priscilla and Luke’s eldest- seemed to have a special bond. It was sweet to watch them joke with one another as they figured out the secrets of the newest video game together.
It wasn’t until after the boys went to bed that we spoke to Chris about what had happened just a few short days ago. In true Bruno fashion, the three of us found ourselves in the kitchen while Luke was busy tending to paperwork in another room. Priscilla was warming up a plate of leftovers for Chris’s boyfriend, Dave; he was expected to arrive shortly.
“Thanks for having me here, P,” Chris said.
“Of course!” Priscilla said, looking over at our brother.
“Look, guys, I’m really sorry,” Chris began. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean to, to– you know…”
Priscilla and I looked at each other. “Chris,” Priscilla said, “are you sure that you didn’t mean to-“
“No!” Chris said, interrupting her. “I mean- I- I intended to get drunk, to black out even- which, I know- I know, is stupid and dangerous” catching Priscilla’s mom-face, “but I didn’t want to- to-“
“Not wake up?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Chris exhaled.
We let that sink in for a moment. Then Priscilla asked, “Chris, do you think you have a problem with alcohol?”
“No,” Chris said without hesitation. “I have a problem with dad.”
“Christopher,” Priscilla began.
“Priscilla, I don’t have a problem with alcohol. I had a problem with alcohol for one day. One terrible day, yes- and again, I’m sorry for putting all of you through that,” Chris said forcefully.
“But, Chris, this is not the first time that you got really drunk. You’ve blacked out a bunch of times, yes?” Priscilla pressed.
“I’m a 22-year-old man, Priscilla. It’s basically a rite of passage,” Chris said, rationalizing his behaviour.
Priscilla exhaled, “Chris, you’ve only been legally able to drink for a few years, and you just said that you intended to get blackout drunk while at home alone, because you’re depressed about Dad.” I could see that Chris was losing his cool, and Priscilla could see it, too. She backed off a bit, and said, “I’m not calling you an alcoholic, Chris. It’s just- what happened to you is scary, and I want to make sure that you figure out how to deal with the painful things in life without relying on alcohol. It’s too slippery a slope,” she said.
“Fine. Thanks. It’s all good, P,” Chris said angrily, shutting down, and he turned to leave the kitchen.
“What if it had been CJ?” I asked. Chris stopped and turned to face me. “What if- in ten or twelve years- CJ goes through something awful, and winds up in the ER, unconscious because of alcohol?”
Chris didn’t say anything, but I saw his eyes soften.
“Thanks for the food, P,” he said, as he took the leftovers for Dave and turned to go downstairs.
Priscilla and I looked at one another. When we could hear Chris descending the staircase, I said, “He’s stubborn. Probably scared, trying to figure everything out. Like Dad.”
“That was good to turn the tables on him like that,” Priscilla said, referring to my comment about CJ. “And yeah, he is stubborn like Dad, but so am I, and I can outlast him,” Priscilla said confidently.
I smiled. Super-sister to the rescue, I thought.
…………
Part 20:
To Riches:
Melanie sighed in relief. It was finally over. She could relax.
It had taken many years- and many heartaches- but like herself, all three of her adult children were in good relationships. As a mother, the emotional wellbeing of her children was something that concerned her from time to time, and she was happy that Priscilla, Chris and Franca had a good spouse in each of their lives.
Though Franca hired many professionals to help with the occasion (I swear, the wedding business is worth many millions more this year because of my daughter, she thought), Melanie had been busy helping Franca with wedding preparations for at least the last fourteen months.
Melanie was glad that it finally happened, as after the death of her father, Franca postponed her wedding many times. She was heartbroken; the fantasy of what her wedding day should have been lay in tatters. No amount of money could bring Carlos back.
It wasn’t the same without Carlos, but Melanie and her family believed that he was with Franca- with all of them- in spirit. The wedding was a spectacular event; elegant and extraordinary that really represented the happy couple and both families beautifully.
Melanie looked at an old photo of herself and Carlos, in a loving embrace, taken many years before. You would have loved it, she thought, as if speaking to the man with whom she had spent decades of her life.
Walking Franca down the aisle with Chris by their side had been bittersweet for everyone. Franca had always taken it for granted that her father would be there to walk her down the aisle, as he had for her sister, Priscilla. Franca’s husband was worth the wait, but she was heartbroken that life and its mysteries and tragedies had ripped her father away; had rewritten such an important event of Franca’s life.
They all missed Carlos, but Franca was still chilled by the fact that Melanie had remarried almost a couple of years ago. It had been odd for Melanie to remarry at all, but marriage was important to her and the timing felt right to them. Melanie’s new husband, Tony, had been a friend of the family for years, but that didn’t help. Franca was the most upset by her mother’s new relationship. Following a heated argument, a brief but intense time of silence between Melanie and Franca ensued. Shortly after they reconciled at Melanie and Tony’s wedding, Franca’s own wedding plans began, and now Franca and Melanie’s new son-in-law were off on an extravagant honeymoon throughout Europe. It would be an entire month before they were back home.
Melanie said a prayer to Carlos- she missed him, too, and was regularly caught navigating between the love and life she had known so well with Carlos, and the love she had in her fairly new marriage to Tony.
Finally able to relax after many months of preparation, she grabbed a paperback book and joined her husband on the back deck that overlooked the picturesque beach, as waves rhythmically rolling into shore.
From Rags:
“You saw him come out of her room?” Chris asked angrily.
We were sitting on the couch in Priscilla and Luke’s living room. Hugging a cushion for comfort, I had just told my brother about the betrayal I had suffered at the hands- or activities- of my ex-boyfriend, Kevin and my roommate (and former friend), Anna. The demise of my relationship with Kevin had been coming for a while. Now that I was away from him, I recognize that there were many signs; signs that I ignored and signs that I explained away. Such obvious betrayal and infidelity were things that could not be ignored.
“Yeah, I did,” I answered. “Then I went into Anna’s room to confront her.”
Chris’s eyes widened. “Whoa. Cat fight?” he asked, with a bit of a smile.
I rolled my eyes. “No. Just good, old-fashioned grown-up rage. She’s moving out.”
“I’m surprised at both of them. You deserve better than that,” Chris said seriously. “You’ve always deserved better than him. You guys rarely seemed to be on the same page.” I nodded. It was amazing how such a radical change in your circumstances can shift how you think about a situation and people you thought you knew so drastically. “You’ll find someone who suits you.”
“Thanks, Chris,” I said.
“I mean, I don’t know if anyone will ever deserve you, but you’ll find someone you are compatible with,” Chris said confidently.
I blushed and grinned, warmed by my brother’s sweet words.
“Well, at least I’m not in a rush to get married,” I said. “Who cares if I have to use a walker to get down the aisle?”
“Yeah, it doesn’t matter,” Chris said, playing along. “They allow cats in churches, right?” I looked at him, confused. “I assume that they’ll make up much of your RSVPs?” He laughed, as I rolled my eyes and threw the cushion I was holding at him.
…………
**Continue reading: Rags to Riches: Part 21 here.**
*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
© 2018-2020 Amber Green
If you liked the above, you would really enjoy:
A work of art narrates its journey through time in this short story.
In the centuries since its creation, it has witnessed the joy of love and companionship, the heartache of loss, and hardship. Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but what if the masterpiece you so admire silently muses at the countless wonders of humanity?
🇺🇸: Amazon.com users, click here.
🇬🇧: Amazon.co.uk users, click here.
Amber Green is a self-published Canadian author and freelance writer. Her short stories can be found here: www.amazon.com/author/ambergreen