Page 28 of The Way I Am Now
“Joshua,” Mom says, pulling out the full name. “You couldn’t make it through the door without—”
“That’s what this is all about?” I try to laugh like I’m not about to die. “You guys are overreacting. I drank too much. Everyone there drank too much.”
“Oh, well, if everyone was doing it”—Mom throws her hands up—“then never mind; it’s fine.”
“It was one night.” I can’t believe they’re coming down on me like this. “It’s not like I was driving.”
“It’s not like you were walking by the end of it, either,” Dad accuses.
I stand up now. I’m not taking this sitting down. Certainly not from him.
“Can I not have one fuck-up?” I say, feeling my heart pumping faster.
They just stare at me.
“No, I’m actually asking,” I tell them. “I didnothingwrong in high school, do I need to remind you? I never skipped school, didn’t drink, never did drugs, never even smoked once. Hell, I never even got a detention!”
“You’re not in high school anymore,” Mom says.
“Fine. Exactly. I’m not a kid. I don’t even live here anymore. I’m twenty years old, and this is the first time I’ve ever—”
“This was not the first time you’ve been this drunk, Joshua,” Mom interrupts, standing back up now too. “Though I’m grateful you didn’t come home beaten up this time.”
“Mom,” I begin—how could she bring that up? “That was different.”
“Whoa, wait, what do you mean?” Dad says, giving us thetime-outsign with his hands just like he used to do when he coached my peewee games and the ref would call a foul on me. “When did he get beaten up?”
“Winter break. His senior year, Matt,” Mom says, practically pulling the exact date out of her brain. When I got in a fight with Eden’s brother, or rather when he got in a fight with me; it actually wasn’t much of a fight at all since I could barely muster the will to even defend myself.
“Of course you would remember theonetime I actually dared to act my age, right?” I snap at her, and her eyes widen with my betrayal—we’ve always been on the same team.
“Stumbling home drunk with bloody knuckles and bruises and a black eye is not acting likeanyage. It’s acting foolish and dangerous. And no, you’re wrong. This . . .” She waves her hands over me. “This is all too similar.”
“Why am I just hearing about this?” Dad asks, talking over Mom.
“How is this similar?” I say, ignoring him.
“Why am I just now hearing about this?” Dad repeats, louder.
“You were there, Matthew!” Mom yells at my dad. “How could you forget this? That girl’s brother attacked him.”
“Okay, he did notattackme,” I try to say, but she’s focused on Dad now.Of course he doesn’t remember. He was drinking back then, among other things.
“This is all over the same girl as last time,” she tells him, then turns on me again. “Josh, every time you get involved with this girl—”
“Will you stop calling her ‘this girl,’ Mom?”
“So, this is the same girl from a few months ago, too?” Dad says, catching up too slowly for Mom’s rapidly dwindling patience.
“This is not over Eden. It’s not over anything. It’s not even anything!”
She looks back and forth between us, shaking her head as she walks out of my room, muttering, “I can’t with you two right now. I just can’t.”
As she exits, the air in the room feels slightly lighter. I exhale, roll my neck from side to side. “Have you seen my phone?” I ask him, resuming my search under my bed.
“No. Joshie,” he says, all exasperated. “Forget about the goddamn phone and talk to me.”
“Talk about what?” I sit back down on my bed, suddenly dizzy after bending over.
