{"id":21022,"date":"2024-12-31T07:45:50","date_gmt":"2024-12-31T12:45:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/?p=21022"},"modified":"2024-12-31T07:47:38","modified_gmt":"2024-12-31T12:47:38","slug":"addictions","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/fiction\/addictions\/","title":{"rendered":"Addictions"},"content":{"rendered":"

Dad snorted the last rail off Granny\u2019s copy of Better Homes and Gardens <\/em>and asked, \u201cEver fuck a Catholic chick?\u201d<\/p>\n

I felt the drip in the back of my throat and shook my head no.<\/p>\n

\u201cCatholic chicks, they, like, go crazy for it. They\u2019re told it\u2019s fucking wrong, so they lose their shit when they get dick, because\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStop usin\u2019 that language in my house,\u201d Granny said from the recliner.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry, Ma.\u201d<\/p>\n

Granny went back to watching Cops.<\/p>\n

Dad stood and grabbed up the straw and the empty baggie. \u201cGonna take a shit real quick then we\u2019ll head out,\u201d he told me.<\/p>\n

I went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. My lips were numb and my face felt like ants were marching all over it. It felt like my heart was trying beat through my chest. I ignored it, set the glass in the sink, and went back to the living room and asked Granny, \u201cThe show good?\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked up at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour show? Is it good? Do you like it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStop yellin\u2019, ya damn idiot,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d only done coke a couple of times, and every time the high kicked in, I couldn\u2019t tell how loud I was talking. The first time I tried it, I walked in on Dad doing it in his room when my mom dropped me off at Granny\u2019s house for his weekend with me. He held out the rolled up dollar and the compact mirror and asked if I wanted to try. \u201cIt\u2019s just a little bump. It won\u2019t hurt.\u201d So, I did, and it didn\u2019t, and I felt like I could smile for days. The Pink Floyd tape Dad had playing on the boombox sounded even better, and the bikini-clad Heather Thomas poster he had on his wall looked sexier. Heather\u2019s teeth were whiter, her skin smoother, her bikini sheerer. \u201cShe\u2019s hot,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Dad laughed. \u201cI know, but you ain\u2019t gotta yell it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHuh?\u201d<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t remember everything we did that weekend but I\u2019m sure we had fun. We probably played Nintendo and watched TV like any other weekend.<\/p>\n

Then two months and a few rails later, it was a weekend in July, and Dad came up with the plan.<\/p>\n

He came out of the bathroom. \u201cMa,\u201d he told Granny. \u201cDickie and I\u2019re going out. I\u2019ll be back.\u201d<\/p>\n

She waved him away.<\/p>\n

\u201cLove you.\u201d<\/p>\n

No answer.<\/p>\n

I followed him out to his Sunbird. We drove over to my mom and stepdad\u2019s house in the country. The dash clock read ten-after-ten. Dad pulled into the driveway.<\/p>\n

Dad asked, \u201cThey went to Cancun, you said?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo cameras, right? Here, or\u2026\u201d He gestured up and down the road.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, nothing. I cut both neighbor\u2019s lawns. They don\u2019t have cameras.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCut their lawns?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI got a job at Joe\u2019s Lawn Care.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen\u2019d you start that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLast month, before graduation.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMoney good?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay, especially out here with the lawns big\u2019s they are.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHope so. Big as football fields.\u201d He cocked his thumb over his shoulder to the house across the street. \u201cHow\u2019bout that place?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s empty. Guy that owns went to Florida. Gay guy, but he\u2019s cool.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe didn\u2019t try\u2019n fuck ya, did he?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNaw.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Don\u2019t let\u2019m\u2026 Florida. Cancun. Must be nice.\u201d<\/p>\n

We went around to the back door and Dad pulled his lockpick set and mini Maglite out of his pocket. It was his idea to pick the lock. If we used my key it\u2019d be suspicious, he said. A scratched-up lock would look like actual burglars did it.<\/p>\n

Dad handed me the flashlight. He went to work on the lock, set a tension wrench on the bottom, and started to move the rake pick back and forth in the lock. \u201cHow long\u2019re they gone?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cA week.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cY\u2019know, I asked about getting you a job at the warehouse, but, like, there\u2019s some rule about, hiring relatives or something, foreman said.\u201d He worked at Corman Shipping in Toledo. About a month before that he worked at Drost Appliance Delivery. I can\u2019t remember where he worked about a year before that.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d I said. \u201cI don\u2019t have to spend as much in gas going there\u2019n back, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. Gas puts a\u2026 strain on the\u2026 wallet. Goddamn thing ain\u2019t budging.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was going to tell him that he could probably rake the pins a little slower, but he told me to use my key. I asked if that wouldn\u2019t be suspicious and he said that there was enough markings on the lock that cops would assume a master picker broke in. It made sense so I unlocked the door. We went in. \u201cHot in here, ain\u2019t it?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t feel that hot to me. I got a Pepsi from the kitchen and asked if he wanted one.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Where\u2019s the safe?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBasement.\u201d<\/p>\n

We went downstairs. The firesafe sat against the opposite wall between two metal shelving units that had some canned goods and some stuff in mason jars. It was only about two-foot square, but it was heavy. Two people could manage it, but Dad said he had arthritis. I knew he was going to ask me to carry it upstairs, which he did. I set my Pepsi down and took it up to the kitchen. I went back to the basement and wiped sweat off my forehead with my shirttail. Dad was sweatier than me. \u201cYou got the combo?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d I took the piece of paper out of my pocket.<\/p>\n

\u201cGive it to me when we\u2019re back at my place. Where\u2019d you get it, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGreg\u2019s got it on a Post-It in the home office.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA home office?\u201d<\/p>\n

Yeah, I was talking to him one day while he was on the computer and\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cComputer? How rich\u2019s this fuckin\u2019 guy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean, I guess he\u2019s got money and but he ain\u2019t rich rich. So, he was getting money from his bank or something and I saw the combo written down and I memorized it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow you get money from your bank with a computer? Sounds like Star Trek shit to me. So, it was just out there on the desk? Ha. Shit. Well, if little Greg ain\u2019t gonna keep an eye on his stuff, he deserves what he gets.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t say anything, because\u2026 I mean, I guess I liked Greg. Not as much as I liked my dad, but I liked him. He treated me and my mom well. He never, like, yelled at me or told me to do homework or anything. But, I mean, I guess my dad was right. It wasn\u2019t a good idea to keep stuff like that lying around. Besides, when Dad asked me if Greg or my mom had anything lying around the house that they weren\u2019t using, stuff they wouldn\u2019t miss, Dad said something that stuck with me, and made me think maybe the divorce between him and my mom wasn\u2019t, like, as normal as Mom said. She always said Dad was lazy, that he\u2019d spent too much money on drugs and whatnot, but Dad told me something like, \u201cYou know she screwed me right? She\u2019ll say I was doing drugs or some shit. I like coke now and again, and, like, a beer or two, but if I was such a goddamn drug addict, how could I afford our house? Hand to God, that house was in my name, not hers. Of course, she got it in the divorce, then she fucking sold it, got all the money, moved in with this new guy\u2026 She\u2019ll say I got fired from my job too, but I didn\u2019t. They let tons of people go at the auto shop, tons. Not just me, tons of people. But she lives in that big-ass house now, that she bought with money from my house. My house. It ain\u2019t fair, Dickie. I got screwed, and, hand to God, truth be told, I swear, all I want is what\u2019s mine. A fair cut, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n

After I told Dad about the safe, he asked what was in it. I told him mom said she put some of her dead mom\u2019s jewelry in there, and I think I heard Greg say he put a handgun in there. Dad asked what kind of gun. I said I didn\u2019t know. That\u2019s when he came up with the plan.<\/p>\n

I sipped my Pepsi.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s the bathroom?\u201d Dad asked. \u201cFeel like I gotta shit again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUpstairs, end of the hall.\u201d<\/p>\n

He went upstairs. I went over to the boxes and totes filled with Halloween stuff like fake cobwebs and ghosts you hang on your porch, things like that. The skull of a plastic skeleton looked at me from inside one of the totes.<\/p>\n

I finished my Pepsi, went upstairs and tossed the can in the trash under the sink, then dug it out, and put it in the recycle bin right next to the trash. I was still getting used to that. Greg and Mom just got the recycle bin a month prior and said we had to throw the empty cans in there from now on. It was supposed to help the environment, they said.<\/p>\n

I sat at the table and flipped through Greg\u2019s new copy of MotorTrend<\/em>. I checked out the \u201988 Lotus Esprit. It looked like the kind of car you\u2019d see on Miami Vice. I liked MotorTrend<\/em>, but I liked Greg\u2019s copies of Hot Rod<\/em> better because of the girls.<\/p>\n

I looked at the clock on the stove. It was about ten-thirty.<\/p>\n

I went down the hall, heard the sink running in the bathroom, went back to the table, flipped through the magazine again. Ten-forty-one.<\/p>\n

Back down the hall. The sink was still running. I knocked. \u201cDad?\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHe was your father?\u201d the cop asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut he didn\u2019t live here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. He lived over on Seventh.\u201d<\/p>\n

He wrote it down in his notepad. \u201cWhy was he here?\u201d<\/p>\n

And it came out of me, like I had written it down somewhere and rehearsed it. \u201cI spent the weekend at his house, and he, like, usually drops me off around this time on Sundays. He said he had to use the bathroom, so I let him in, and that\u2019s, uh\u2026, when I found him. Then I called you guys.\u201d I didn\u2019t tell him I\u2019d taken the safe back down to the basement before I called 911.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe wasn\u2019t using, was he?\u201d the cop asked.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know what to say. He could tell.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay. All of us in the department had run-ins with your old man. We knew he had his problems, so, if he ingested anything, smoked anything, you can\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. He didn\u2019t. Not that I saw.\u201d<\/p>\n

He closed his notepad. \u201cI\u2019m sorry for your loss, son,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

The ambulance and the cops left about an hour later.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHe was inside the house?\u201d Mom asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. Like I said, he said he had to go real bad. I didn\u2019t, like, know what to tell him.\u201d<\/p>\n

She sighed. \u201cDickie, I\u2019m sorry that happened. Your dad had his issues, but he did love you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Why\u2019d she say it like I wouldn\u2019t believe her? \u201cI know,\u201d I said. \u201cSorry for calling so late.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s fine, honey. I\u2019m just glad you\u2019re okay. Call back if you need anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay. I love you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLove you.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I drove his Sunbird back to Granny\u2019s. I tried calling before I headed over, but she didn\u2019t answer. The lights were off when I got there.<\/p>\n

The door was locked. I used his key and went in, and grabbed another glass of water. I tiptoed down the hall. Granny was asleep in her room. Her fan was running.<\/p>\n

I went to Dad\u2019s room, shut the door and turned on the light. It didn\u2019t look that much different than my room. I looked under the bed. There was a stack of Playboy\u2019<\/em>s and Hustler<\/em>\u2019s. I checked the drawer of his nightstand. There was an ashtray with a couple roaches inside, a deck of cards, his employee badges for Corman, Drost, and a nametag for Domino\u2019s Pizza. I never knew he worked at Domino\u2019s. There were also a half-dozen empty baggies with white residue inside and a rusty razor.<\/p>\n

I shut the drawer.<\/p>\n

I looked through his dresser. Half the drawers were empty. The other half was filled with the same clothes he\u2019d worn my whole life. The same kind of clothes were in the closet along with a half-deflated football.<\/p>\n

I closed the closet and picked the boombox off the floor and unplugged it. He borrowed it from me the year prior. I was going to eject the Pink Floyd tape, but I kept it in there.<\/p>\n

I grabbed the Playboy<\/em>\u2019s and Hustler<\/em>\u2019s from under the bed and took the Heather Thomas poster off the wall. I cradled the magazines, the poster, and my boombox in one arm, turned off the light, and went down the hall.<\/p>\n

I was going to wake her and tell her about Dad, but she was still asleep. I went out the front door to the Sunbird and drove myself back home.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Dad snorted the last rail off Granny\u2019s copy of Better Homes and Gardens and asked, \u201cEver fuck a Catholic chick?\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":21517,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[1167,3848,1211],"class_list":["post-21022","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-crime-fiction","tag-drama","tag-noir","writer-mike-mchone"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21022","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=21022"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21022\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21516,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21022\/revisions\/21516"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/21517"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=21022"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=21022"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=21022"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}