Every Little Dream(4)

I lean my head against the hard wall and close my eyes. My chest rises and falls, so I know I’m breathing. The crushed dreams in this place that soaked into the air and drip down the walls and that hover around me are suffocating. That’s why I hate this place. I don’t mind sitting a night in a cell. I’ve done it before, but I can’t stand the despair that stains each cell, no matter which one I’m put in. I can’t escape it. I can’t fly here. I can’t even dream.

And without that, I am nothing. Without my dreams, I’m the no-good asshole that everyone thinks I am. I wait. And wait. I drift off, hoping for the night to pass quickly.

The bars on my cell rattle. “Chadwick.”

Shit. I jerk my head off the wall and open my eyes. Through the murky air, the outline of my dad stands tall. His large intimidating form is like a visiting demon. Any second, I expect smoke to trail into the room and his red eyes to pierce the darkness.

“Hey, Daddio.” I don’t bother anymore to convince him to call me Chad. He says that it’s unprofessional, that people won’t take me seriously with a one-syllable name. Fuck that.

“Again, Chadwick?” He tries to hide the disdain and the disgust but it’s there on the subtle edge of his tone. Without looking, I picture the cold glint in his eyes and the deep furrows on his brow. He won’t take me seriously. I’ve always seen to it that he doesn’t.

“I didn’t want to see it come down to this. I hoped you’d come around on your own.”

I hold back my usual flip answer. Discouragement and sadness weighs his words. They surprise me. Like in the dark, alone with me, he can let his true feelings show. Once upon a time, we had a real relationship.

“Dad?” I feel him out. Hoping he’ll talk to me. Hoping he’ll listen. Maybe this one time. That’s all I need. A small crack that I can wedge open and convince him to hear me out. Maybe. Just maybe. For a brief second, the sweet scent of hope battles the despair in this room.

He clears his throat and I can see him visibly shake off the emotion, any sense of attachment he had to me. It’s back to business.

“Chadwick. Use the night to sober up and think about your future. Hopefully in the morning, you’ll have a different perspective.”

I bite back a snort and a sarcastic comment. I don’t bother telling him I had one drink.

“I’ll give you tomorrow to clean up your act and rethink your life. But the next morning, I expect you at my office at 8 a.m. sharp.”

Then he leaves.





The next morning, I stumble back to the beach house I share with Jimmy. The place reeks of booze and girls like he invited the whole town back for a party.

His arm dangles off the couch. A smooth white leg sticks out of the blanket covering him and his girlfriend. I try and sneak past into the kitchen. I just want a cold glass of water and a hot shower.

“Chad? Is that you?” Andrea asks.

Jimmy’s been seeing her ever since I’ve known him. I know she wishes I’d stop crashing here, stop taking advantage of Jimmy. What she doesn’t know is that a nice sum of money is deposited into Jimmy’s account every month. I’m not a freeloader. I head into the kitchen and pour a glass of water from the tap. The cold liquid feels good trailing through my chest.

“Hey, can I talk with you?” She pads into the kitchen, the blanket wrapped around her.

“You two have quite the night last night?”

She shrugs. Her black curly hair is frizzing out all over the place. She jumps up onto the counter. A tentative look crosses her face. It’s no coincidence she’s talking to me while Jimmy’s out cold. I grip the glass afraid it’s going to break.

“How many years have you been living with Jimmy?”

“A couple.” Actually three. But since Carly and I broke up and I stopped any serious relationships I’ve been here more often. With a serious girl, I could crash at her place and give Jimmy and Andrea privacy. But lately, I’ve been here. Every night. I know what’s coming next. I can sense it.

“You know we love you. Jimmy would never say anything to hurt you or your relationship with him.”

“Yeah. I know.” I sound a lot tougher than I feel.

“But Jimmy and I’ve been talking. Thinking about moving our relationship to the next level.”

I hear her message loud and clear. She wants me gone. She wants to rope my best friend into marriage. Give him a couple kids and start a mommy club with diapers and bottles and shit like that.

“Am I cramping your style?”

She puts on a puppy-dog face, the pitying look I can’t stand. “No, we love having you here. It’s just that. Well. You know.”