Short Story: Homecoming

When his parents divorced, Jack was nowhere to be found for three days.  There was a search party organized by the local police department, and the canine unit sniffed the nearby woods for any possible scent. When Jack finally returned, he expected to burst into the house finding his parents taking comfort in each other’s arms or at least embracing over their mutual sorrow.  Jack did burst through the door, but instead he discovered his father with another woman who happened to be from the search party.

Jack lived with his mother and made regular visits to his father who lived at their old house. His mother had decided to not live there after Jack told her about his homecoming greeting.  This made visiting particularly difficult for Jack, because every time he went back to that house he remembered how they had all lived there as a family. He could no longer remember the arguing, flying dishes, and back-breaking tension. Instead he made up his own memories, like when his dad went fishing and brought back three huge bass for his mother to cook. Or when his mother had baked a birthday cake for his dad and loaded it with forty candles. 

After going to college, Jack alternated weekends between his parents. He bragged to his college friends that he got two of every holiday, because his parents hated each other so much. The weekend that Jack killed his stepmother was a holiday weekend, but not one anyone fussed over. He was staying until Monday, so he made sure to pack enough mind-numbing devices to keep him from dwelling on the sadness he felt when visiting his father.  He had grabbed his new tablet computer, but decided against it. His stepmother gave it to him as a last effort to win over the “impossible stepson” as she had called him when he was eavesdropping on the phone a few months ago. Although Jack had been using the tablet at school, he did not want to give his stepmother any hope or satisfaction. He was going to show her just how impossible he could be.

Jack arrived to an empty house which was typical, because his dad and stepmother regularly partied on the weekends. A few years ago when he was staying for a few weeks over summer vacation, Jack overheard his dad in the kitchen telling his stepmother how she kept him young and his pants alive. Jack snarled his noise as the memory tumbled in his mind. He unlocked the door and went upstairs to his old room, the same room he had before his parent’s divorced. It was small having only been intended for a toddler with a toddler-sized bed, but Jack refused to move. His dad even offered to renovate one of the offices in the basement and turn it into a “young person’s pad.” Jack wouldn’t let him. If he was in the basement, it would be easy for both of them, especially his stepmother, to forget he was alive.

After crashing his overnight bag and backpack on the floor, Jack jumped onto his bed. He began to think about how he could be impossible. He mulled the word over in his mouth. What exactly does it mean to be impossible? He grabbed a worn baseball from his desk beside the bed and tossed it into the air. As it came back down, he heard the house door open and a chorus of giggles resounded in the Fourier. Jack went to toss the baseball again, but stopped when he heard the glass shatter on the hardwood floor.  Curious, he opened his door and crept to the top of the stairs, partially hidden in the shadows of the hallway. He saw his dad stumble into the living room and flop onto the couch. Jack could not see where the glass shattered or his stepmother, so he softly moved a few steps down so he could look over the banister and see fully into the living and part of the kitchen. The glass was on the kitchen floor and his stepmother was pouring wine into two huge glasses. Stepping around the broken shards on the floor, she crossed the room to Jack’s dad and gave him a glass while taking a seat on his lap. Jack huffed and turned to return to his room. The top step squeaked and immediately his stepmother’s eyes jolted to his position. “Where you going, Jackie?” She slurred and gulped at the wine. Jack’s face tensed. “Now, now, dear. Don’t bother the boy. He doesn’t want anything to do with the drunken adults.” Jack’s dad laughed at himself and spilled a little wine on his button up. His stepmother jerked up and ran into the kitchen for a dishtowel. “Goddamnit. Who broke something in here?” Jack’s dad craned his neck to see what she was referring to.

“You did,” Jack whispered.

“What was that, son?” 

Jack chortled and walked towards his room.

Even with the door shut, Jack could still hear them. He heard his stepmother’s nasally voice cooing at his father and his father’s idiotic retorts. How could his dad not see that she only loved his money? It’s the oldest motif in marriage and yet he seemed blind. All his dad could see was her blonde hair, puffy lips, huge breasts, and open legs.  He wasn’t surprised when his dad brought her home one night, but he was completely shocked when he proposed to her and asked Jack to be his best man. Jack refused, and they did not speak to each other until after the honeymoon. When Jack perused the photos on his dad’s computer a few years ago, he concluded that he hadn’t missed anything but some bird seed and a fondue fountain.  Jack didn’t know how to explain why the marriage was still intact. He had expected it to last maybe 3 months. Three years later, he still had to look that woman in the face.

Jack finally went downstairs when he heard the second crash of glass on the hardwood floor. At the bottom of the steps, he saw his dad passed out, unfazed by the crash. He saw the kitchen light on and gingerly crept towards the mess. Glass was everywhere. Jack put the palms of his hands on his hand and sighed, “Jesus Christ.”

“Not here.”

He heard his stepmother before he saw her. She emerged from the darkness of her bedroom and walked towards him. Jack could not think of any woman he had ever seen so wasted. Her mascara had smeared from her eyelids to the middle of her cheeks. Her lipstick was heavier on one side, giving her mouth a lop-sided effect.  “You look awful.”

She laughed and grabbed the wooden panels of the doorway to support herself. “No, silly boy, you are the awful one. You know exactly what I am, but what are you?”

Jack’s mouth tightened and he backed into the kitchen doorway on the opposite side of her. “You made this mess.”

She mocked him, mouthing his words in a whiney voice. “You made a mess. Blah, blah, blah.” She laughed and looked down at her dress. Leaning back up, she smiled. “So, how you like the present?”

“What present?” Jack smirked. Here was his chance. Now that she was super drunk, he could be as impossible as he liked. Even better, if she said anything, he could just blame it on the fact that she was too drunk to know any different. “She was the one being impossible,” he would tell his dad.

She almost succeeded in tackling Jack while he was absorbed in self-congratulations. Only at the last minute, did he realize that her drunken stumbling was actually an attempt to crash into him. He moved and she landed right on the glass mess on the floor.  “Look what you did.”

He could hear her weeping, but only saw her blonde hair bobbing as she froze on the floor. Her hands were already bleeding and causing an even bigger mess than before. Jack walked around her and went towards the stairs. His dad was snoring on the couch.

Halfway up the stairs, Jack heard her whisper as she bled onto the floor. “I hate you.”

Jack laughed. “Hate you too, stepmom.”

Jack’s dad woke him up the next morning to tell him that his stepmother had had an accident last night and was dead. His dad sat crying on his bed. “I have no idea what happened, Jackie. We went out to drink and came back. I don’t remember much after that.” He began to sob, and Jack slightly scooted away from him and towards the wall. “The cops said she must have fallen on the shattered glass. Where did that glass come from? Were you home? This can’t be happening. It’s impossible.”

Jack bit his lip, pulled his covers down, and sat next to his father on the bed. He patted his back and put his arm around him. “She was the one being impossible, dad.”