“God dammit, aren’t you ready yet? C’mon—” Clap! Clap! “—we got a flight to catch.”
“I’m not feeling too good. I shouldn’t’ve had those Bloody Marys last night.”
“Didn’t I tell you that? Why the hell didn’t you listen?”
I keep my eyes focused on the TV. There’s some old movie on. It’s about a group of kids who go hunting for a pirate’s treasure. Right now they’re trying to play a piano made of bones. They have to hit the right notes to open a secret door, but any time they make a mistake, part of the floor crumbles into a bottomless pit. This girl is trying to play, but she keeps hitting the wrong keys.
“Can’t we catch another flight tomorrow? We’ve already paid for the room for the day.”
“I’ve got a quarter million dollar contract I gotta sign in the morning. No we can’t catch another flight. Getcher ass up and get dressed, mach schnell, or I’m dragging you to the airport like that.”
“If you hit the wrong note, we’ll all be flat,” one of the kids on TV says. I’ve seen him in other movies, though I don’t know his name. He always plays loudmouths.
“And you!” Dad grabs my ear and twists. “Make yourself useful for once, help your mom pack.”
Tina’s not my mom. She and Dad have been married for two years now, but that doesn’t make her my mother, I don’t care what he says.
Dad grabs the remote and flips off the TV.
“I was watching that!”
“And I told you to help your mom.”
“I can do two things at once.”
“Yeah, my ass. I’m gonna be downstairs waiting for you two. You aren’t down there in fifteen minutes, I’m coming back up, and you will regret it, both of you. Do I make myself clear?”
His eyes narrow. “You two are trying my patience. Don’t think ‘cause we’re in a hotel I won’t turn you black and blue.” He heads to the door. “Fifteen minutes, not a second more.” He walks out, slams the door behind him.
As soon as he’s gone, Tina falls back on the mattress. “Aiden, you do the packing.” She closes her eyes. “Wake me up when you’re ready.”
“Why do I hafta do it by myself? It’s mostly your junk in here.”
“Aiden!” She says it in her girly voice. That works on Dad—sometimes—but not me.
“That isn’t fair!”
“Okay, fine. You want me to tell Dan what you’re doing with my iPad?”
I freeze. “I’m not doing anything with your iPad.”
I turn the TV back on. The kids have escaped and reached the pirate ship. They’re all laughing and hugging each other. Even the loudmouth kid gets a hug from one of the girls—though she’s what Dad would call a “woofer”.
“Oh? Really? So the other day when I went to look at Politico, and I typed in P-O, and the auto-suggest popped up PornHub, it got there by magic? My iPad thought I needed to watch some porn?”
“I don’t know what—”
“I’m the one who washes your clothes, remember. You don’t think I don’t know what a spunk stain looks like?”
Tina sits up in bed. She has to keep the sheet pulled up around her. She and Dad had done sex last night after they got back from the reunion, and she never got dressed afterwards.
It had been three in the morning when they came in, and they assumed I was asleep, but I’d been lying in bed playing a game on Tina’s iPad.
They’d taken me down to the reunion for a bit, but I got so bored that Tina had brought me back to the room. Dad hadn’t liked that—he doesn’t think I’m old enough to be left alone—but I’d promised to be in bed by eleven, and not to watch anything but local stations on the TV, so he’d let me go.
Of course, I hadn’t done that. It wasn’t often I had a chance to watch TV on my own, and I’d put it on Cartoon Network. They were showing some weird cartoon about giants eating people. It was like nothing I’d seen before. I’d turned the television off around midnight, afraid that Dad and Tina would show up, and started playing games under the covers.
When I heard the knob rattling, I turned the iPad off. I didn’t have time to put it back on the nightstand, but it wasn’t like Tina would be using it. I could wait until they fell asleep and put it away. I rolled onto my side and pretended to sleep.
Dad and Tina stumbled into the room—literally stumbled; Dad knocked into the dresser and nearly tipped the TV over.
Tina laughed. “Nice save.”
“You better watch your lips.”
“Yeah? You have something you want me to do with them?”
“I can think of something.”
Their clothes rustled. Dad’s pants hit the floor.
Gross. Were they gonna do it right here? Bad enough I had to listen to them at home, but at least we had walls between us there.
Dad leaned against the dresser. His weight was enough to push it back against the wall. Clunk. If there was anyone in the next room, that must’ve woken them up.
I closed my eyes and tried to get to sleep. But ...
“Ooh, yeah, baby ... yeah.”
“Oh yeah, get my balls. Aww, good.”
I squeezed my eyes as tight as they’d go and focused on sleeping.
“Suck it good ... ahhh ... ahh.”
No good. God, I didn’t want to hear this.
“Mmm, mmm, stop,” Dad said. “Get on the bed.”
They moved across the room. The bed creaked as they climbed onto the mattress. Then, for a moment, the room was more or less silent.
I tried to relax and drift off, but I knew they weren’t done. Something more was coming.
“Danny ... no, no ... Danny, no.”
“What’s the matter now?”
“I’m not ... ready.”
“I’m not like you. I don’t flip a switch and I’m ready to go.”
“Quit your bellyaching.”
More creaking. Then silence, except for Tina’s breathing and a certain noise I’d never heard before, like a dog lapping at his water bowl. I guess normally my bedroom walls would block the sound. I could imagine what Dad was doing—I’ve seen videos—but the thought of his Skoal-stained mouth getting up in Tina’s cooch was ... ugh. How could she like that? It’s disgusting.
But she must’ve enjoyed it, because after a few minutes she was making noises. “Oh yeah ... oh yeah ... right there ... that’s the spot ... oh yeah ... yeah ...”
Her voice sent an uncomfortable thrill through my body. She may not be my mom, but she’s still married to Dad. I shouldn’t have dirty thoughts about her.
“Mmmm. Danny. Yeah. Yeah.”
But I have, ever since the summer started. On the third or fourth day of vacation, I’d seen her coming out of the hall bathroom with her robe hanging open.
“Oh shit,” she’d said when she saw me, “I forgot you were home.” She pulled the robe closed right away, but I’d seen her. Not all of her—the robe only showed a sliver down the middle of her body, but one of her boobies had been totally visible, and her cooch too.
That was the first time I’d seen a naked girl outside of the drawing in my health textbook.
That night I’d had the weirdest dream. There was a blizzard, and Dad was stuck at work. The power went out, and to stay warm Tina and I had to cuddle together. We were in bed, with the covers pulled up over us. Her body pressed against mine. Then, you know the way everything in a dream will suddenly change, she announced the blizzard was over and we should go outside. And when she took the covers off, she was in a bikini and we were on a beach. She put her hands behind her back and undid the bikini top, but before she could take it off--
I woke up to the most intense feeling I’d ever felt. At first I thought I was dying, like I was having a heart attack or something—except the feeling wasn’t in my chest. It was coming from my ying-yang. And it wasn’t exactly painful, though pain was the only thing I could compare it to—like stubbing my toe, or that time I’d broken my arm. Every other sensation I’d ever felt was small in comparison.
But this ... this felt amazing.
After a moment, I realized there was something wet in my sweatpants. My first thought was that I’d peed myself, and I freaked out, but when I touched the damp spot on my crotch, there was something slick and slimy there. I got some on my finger and sniffed it. It smelled like dishwasher soap.
I remembered what Mr. Kislowski had told us in health class around the end of the year, about ejaculation and semen and all that. He’d said we were getting to the age when we might experience “nocturnal emissions.” Nobody had known what he meant—or maybe they did and pretended not to. I know if this had happened to me before that day, I’d’ve been too embarrassed to talk about it.
I got out of bed and tiptoed to my dresser. I slid a drawer open as quietly as I could and got a new pair of sweatpants out. I put the old pair in the hamper. Tina had done laundry yesterday. By the time she did it again, the emission should be dried and gone. Hopefully it wouldn’t stain.
I didn’t have anymore nocturnal emissions after that, but a couple days later Tina was watching one of those Real Housewives shows while I was playing on my Nintendo Switch. There was a scene where a woman was trying on bathing suits, and as I watched it from the corner of my eye, I found my ying-yang getting bigger.
I panicked, thinking I was going to have another emission right there, so I ran to the bathroom. But when I stood over the toilet, nothing happened. Mr. Kislowski hadn’t gone into any details about what made a man have an emission, other than saying it happened when he put his ying-yang in a woman’s cooter. But obviously if I had an emission in my sleep, something else could cause it.
Maybe it was like peeing?
I gave it a try. I held my ying-yang and willed myself to have an emission. Nothing happened.
I’d done it in my sleep, so it couldn’t take any real effort. What was I doing wrong?
I gave it another go, trying to find some hidden muscle inside me that I needed to flex to—my ying-yang squirted pee all over the place. I hadn’t been aiming, and it got on the back of the toilet and the wall. I’d ended up spending so much time cleaning it up that Tina came to check on me.
“You okay in there?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
By the time I’d finished, my ying-yang had shrunk back to its normal size. So I guessed I wouldn’t have an emission just because it got big. That was a relief.
Over the next week, I kept getting a swollen ying-yang. I tried to have another emission a couple times, but I couldn’t figure out the trick to it. I kept getting pee all over the place. One time, I soaked my underwear and had to hide them in my room until I had a chance to bury them so deep in the trashcan that Dad and Tina would never find them.
Then one day, a week after the Fourth of July, Tina decided she was going out shopping.
“Do you wanna come with me?” she said.
“Don’t I have to?” The whole reason Dad wouldn’t let Tina get a job was he wanted her home to watch me.
“That’s your dad’s rule, not mine. I don’t care.”
“Then sure, I’ll stay here.”
“Okay. Just don’t tell him.”
She told me, “I’ll be back in a couple hours. Don’t burn the place down,” and left.
I was alone.
As long as I didn’t leave any evidence, I could do whatever I wanted. And there was only one thing I wanted.
My dad didn’t like me being on the Internet. He said it was dangerous for kids, there were bad people on there. But of course I’d been online at school, and sometimes Dad let me use his laptop if I had to write a report, though always with him or Tina in the room. And sometimes when Tina was watching TV, she’d let me sit next to her and use her iPad.
She’d left her iPad on the coffee table. I picked it up and turned it on. I tapped the button for Internet. It opened a search page.
What did I want to look up?
I decided to start simple. I typed “sex”.
The top results were videos. I tapped on one and a new page loaded.
There was a woman bending over while a guy put his ying-yang up her butt—at least that’s what it looked like at first, but after a moment I realized his ying-yang wasn’t in her butthole. I could see her butthole—that was gross—but he was putting it into her cooter. Mr. Kislowski had told us about this, and I’d seen the drawings in our health book, but this ... wasn’t what I’d imagined at all.
The woman’s boobies were jiggling as the guy pushed his ying-yang in and out, and her face was covered in sweat. She had makeup on, and it was running down her face in thick blue rivers.
“Ohh! Ohh! Fuck me!” The iPad’s volume was all the way up and I nearly dropped it when she screamed. I lowered the volume.
I’d heard Tina making noises like that with Dad, but I’d never understood why.
The way the woman was yelling, she sounded like she was in pain, but she wasn’t saying, “Stop, stop!” She was begging the guy to go on. Did it feel good? Like when I had the emission?
The video was only two minutes long. When it ended, my ying-yang was the biggest I’d ever felt it, and something was leaking from the end. I thought I’d had an emission, but I hadn’t felt anything. When I put my hands into my pants, my ying-yang was covered with a clear, sticky juice.
I decided to take the iPad to my bedroom. Once I was inside, I took off all my clothes. I was determined I was going to have an emission today. Somehow, I was going to figure it out.
I poked around the website. There were a ton of videos there—I couldn’t believe how many. There must’ve been millions of them. Did everyone make them?
I clicked one at random, “Co-ed Lesbians,” whatever that meant.
The video showed two women lying in bed in their underwear. They were kissing each other, and touching each others’ boobies. I didn’t understand what they were doing. Wasn’t this supposed to be sex? I thought that was something a man and a woman did together?
But as I watched them, my ying-yang stayed swollen.
They took each other’s clothes off, and once they were naked, one woman put her head between the other woman’s legs. The camera zoomed in, but I couldn’t tell what was going on. It looked like the one woman was kissing the other’s cooch and licking it. The second woman was making noises like the woman in the first video, so I supposed this was sex too, though I didn’t understand how.
The one who was lying down had tiny boobies with giant nipples. She kept tugging on them. Did that feel good? I tried with my own, and it was okay but nothing special. Maybe women’s nipples were different from mine? This was something I wanted to find out.
There were a couple girls at my school who’d started growing boobies—Mikayla’s were even bigger than the woman’s in the first video—and I wondered what they looked like. Would Mikayla and Jenn ever do stuff like these women? I closed my eyes to picture it, but it was hard to do. Jenn was always serious, and I couldn’t imagine her making faces and noises like these women. Mikayla though ... and Tina ... yeah ... the two of them naked ... kissing ... Tina pinching Mickayla’s—oh my God!
My ying-yang tensed. I hadn’t realized it, but I’d been rubbing it with my hand this whole time. I don’t know why. It had just felt good. And now it exploded. Emission sprayed everywhere. It shot out so hard it nearly touched the ceiling. Some landed on my chest. Some on my belly. Some got on Tina’s iPad.
Oh no, that wasn’t good. I needed to clean it off.
I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, got a handful of toilet paper. I scrubbed my chest and belly and threw it into the toilet, then took more back to my bedroom. I wiped the iPad dry and cleaned up a bit that had landed on my bedspread.
Oh my God!
I checked out the window, worried that Tina might be getting back. She’d said a couple hours, but you never knew. She might’ve forgotten something. She might’ve gotten a headache.
But no, no car out there. I was still safe.
I needed to put everything back.
I got dressed and went downstairs. Where had her iPad been? I knew it was on the coffee table, but where? Next to the ashtray? Or had it been under her book. Crap! I hadn’t paid attention. What would happen if she noticed I’d moved it?
There was no way she’d figure out what I’d been doing, was there?
But what if she did? What if she questioned me, and she made me tell her what I’d been thinking about when I had my emission. I couldn’t admit that to her. She’d think I was disgusting. “I’m your mom. You can’t do that.”
Oh God, I was horrible.
And what about Mikayla? She’d kill me if she knew what I’d done.
I put the iPad under the book and went back to my room. I locked the door and got down on my knees and prayed.
“Oh God, I’ve done something terrible, and I need your forgiveness. Please lend me your strength so I never do this again.”
I knelt there and listened, hoping I might hear something back.
But there was only silence.
“Please God, I swear I’ll never do this again. It was a mistake. I didn’t realize what I was doing.”
“Please, give me a sign. If you forgive me, have a car drive by.”
I listened. In the distance, I heard a car moving down the street. Was that a sign? It stopped at the corner, and then ... yes, the noise was coming closer. A pickup by the sound of it. It drove past our house.
“Thank you God, thank you. I will love and obey you forever and ever, amen.”
But I wasn’t able to keep my promise. The next day, I woke up and my ying-yang was swollen again. I went to take a shower and hoped it would go away, but once I was inside ... I couldn’t help myself. I was soaping myself, and it felt so good. I imagined Tina walking in and opening the curtain. She’d be naked, and she’d get in with me, and I’d offer to put soap on her.
I had an emission right there. It got all over the curtain, and I scooped water onto it to rinse it away.
I’d done it again! I’d had an emission while imagining Tina. After I’d promised God I wouldn’t!
Why? I hadn’t even been thinking. It just felt good.
Once I dried off, I went back to my room, but instead of getting dressed, I knelt next to my bed and prayed again. “I’m sorry, God. I’ve failed. I couldn’t help it. I’m a bad person.”
“Aiden!” Tina shouted from the hall. “How the hell did you get water all over the floor?”
“I—” Should I have told the truth? That’s what God would’ve wanted. He would’ve wanted me to admit my sin. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell Tina what I’d done. “I don’t know. It must’ve splashed when I opened the curtain.”
“Well don’t do it again. I just mopped yesterday.”
After that, the urge came to me every day. Sometimes I resisted, but never for long. Never more than a couple of days. The longer I put it off, the more intense the urge. The worst were the days when Tina went out without me. I tried to get her to take me along, but she told me it’d be boring and I should stay home and watch TV. But of course I didn’t. Instead, I’d sneak her iPad up to my room and watch videos.
There were all kinds. Some of the videos were disgusting. Some showed guys licking girls’ buttholes, and vice versa, and there were even some with people getting peed on. I even found one where a woman had a rubber ying-yang on a belt and put it up a guy’s butthole. Others had girls being handcuffed to a bed with balls in their mouths as men pinched them and whipped them.
I tried to find some with girls my age, but when I searched “young” and “teen,” all that came up were women who were much older than me, some of them almost Tina’s age. I tried “school” and came up with a bunch of videos with Japanese girls in uniforms doing it with whole groups of guys. Those were fun, especially the ones where the girls were tied up, or where they were caught shoplifting and the store manager took them to the office for punishment.
I don’t know how many times I did it. Too many, that’s for sure. And every time, I’d pray to God afterwards and promise to do better, but He must’ve known I didn’t mean it. Or that I meant it, but couldn’t do it. I was too weak.
I thought about asking Mrs. Patterson in Sunday School, but I was afraid she’d tell Dad. He’d kill me. Even if he didn’t know I was thinking about Tina, he’d kill me. He whooped me if I got a C on my report card, and this was surely ten times worse.
Were the other guys at school going through this? But surely they had more control. I mean, maybe Zach or LaWayne ... but they were juvies. They skipped school more often than they came. I couldn’t be like them.
But I couldn’t stop myself. And I knew once classes started, it’d be worse. I’d seen Denise at Kohl’s the other day, and she’d grown boobies even bigger than Mikayla’s. Probably all the girls would have them by September. I’d be surrounded by them. It wouldn’t just be Mikayla and Tina I was imagining. It’d be Denise and Donetta and Brianna and Marissa ... what was I going to do?
I kept praying to God, but no help came. He didn’t give me any strength. Had He decided I was too weak to bother with? Had breaking that first promise to Him angered Him? Maybe ... maybe if I resisted on my own, I could convince him I was worthy.
I vowed to myself, I’d go one week without having an emission. That had been six days ago. I’d almost made it. I’d willed myself to stop. When my ying-yang got swollen, I’d make myself read a book, something I knew wouldn’t get my imagination worked up. It had worked until last night.
“Oooooh! Oooooooooh! D~a~a~a~a~a~a~n~ny!”
As I was lying there listening to Dad and Tina, her voice ... it was too much. I was lying on my belly, and I felt an uncomfortable pressure growing under me. At first, I wasn’t even thinking about relieving it. I just needed to move so my ying-yang would have room to grow.
But I had to be careful. If Dad realized I was awake, I’d get a beating like I’d never had a beating. That time I let Brewster get loose and he got hit by a car and Dad had broken my arm, that would be nothing next to this.
I couldn’t roll over, but maybe if I shifted my weight ... just a little bit ... just ... yes. I slid my hand into my sweat pants and adjusted myself.
“Yeah Danny, that’s right ... use your fingers ... oooooh. Oooooh.”
The sound was too much. I couldn’t help myself. I imagined what it’d be like if I were the one making her moan that way. If I were on top of her, pushing my ying-yang in and out of her cooch.
I stroked myself slowly, only moving my fingers, not even my wrist. I forced myself to keep my breath under control. It felt so good. I knew I should stop. Not just to keep God happy, but for my own safety. But I couldn’t help it.
The bed creaked. I froze, waiting for Dad to pounce on me, but nothing happened. The bed went on creaking, and I realized it wasn’t mine making the noise. Dad and Tina were moving around.
“Mmm, yeah,” Dad said.
“Give it to me ... oh yeah ... oh yeah ... uh-huh.”
I focused on Tina’s voice, pretending not to hear Dad.
“Ohhhh. Ohhhhhhh. God yeah. Harder.”
I pictured what Tina must look like right then. Was she bent over? I always liked videos where the woman’s bent over. The way their boobies swing is beautiful. If I could’ve rolled over right then, is that what I would’ve seen? I wished I could, but I had to settle for my imagination.
“Come on Danny, faster. O~h~h~h~h~h yeah.”
What would it be like if she were calling my name? Begging me. Wrapping her legs around me ....
I was getting close now. So close. If I were alone, my hand would’ve been moving at lightning speed.
I ground my teeth together. I couldn’t make a sound. Not the slightest peep. But God, this was so intense. After a week without touching myself down there, this was almost like the first time again. My ying-yang unleashed a gob of emission into my pants. It pulsed, and more shot out. Again. More. More. A whole week’s worth, all at once. If Dad had looked over right then, he’d have see me shaking. I could barely control myself.
Oh God, what did I do?
And I came so close.
But I failed.
I gave into the temptation.
And I’d done it while thinking about Tina. While listening to her and Dad.
What was wrong with me?
I’m going to Hell. I know it. I’ll burn in Hell, and up in heaven, Tina and Dad and all my family and everyone at school, they’ll know why I was sent there. They’ll know, and they’ll hate me forever.
How could I?
I wanted to stop, but the temptation was always there, calling to me.
What could I do? Could I cut my ying-yang off? I didn’t want to ... but that was the source of all my problems. If I didn’t have that, I’d be a good person.
There were tears in my eyes. I wanted to sob. I wanted to bury my head in my pillow. So what if Dad heard? Whatever he did to me, I’d deserve. Nobody could blame him.
But I kept quiet. I lay there, silently weeping, as I listened to him and Tina finish their sex. Once he was done, he rolled over and flopped onto bed. But Tina got up.
“Where are you going?”
She left the room. A door closed and a faucet turned on. She stayed in there forever, and by the time she came back out, Dad was sawing logs.
She didn’t get into bed, though. She sat down and lit a cigarette. The stench of her smoke filled the room—I think Dad’s Skoal is disgusting, but at least it doesn’t stink.
Did she know?
Did she realize I’d been awake the whole time?
Was she staring at me right now? Thinking, “What a creepy little kid. Maybe I should tell his dad?”
I was tempted to roll over, see if she was watching me. I could say I woke up, needed to use the toilet. But what if she didn’t believe me? What if she accused me?
No, stay still. Pretend to sleep. Or better yet, actually get to sleep.
I pushed all my thoughts out of my mind.
But I couldn’t. No matter how long I lay there, my mind wouldn’t shut down. I kept thinking about the awful sin I’d committed tonight. “Honor thy father and mother,” that was one of the Ten Commandments. Tina wasn’t really my mother, but God wouldn’t think of it that way.
Tina stood up. She crawled into bed with Dad.
The room was silent.
But still, I couldn’t sleep.
After what felt like forever, I decided to risk moving. I sat up in bed and gently set Tina’s iPad on the nightstand. Then I lay back down and tried to get comfortable. Maybe a different position and I could finally get to sleep.
I don’t know how long I lay like that, with my mind worrying about God and Hell, but I must’ve fell asleep at some point, because Dad woke me up this morning at nine.
“Hey, you gonna lie your ass in bed all day? Get moving.”
I don’t know why he did it. Our flight wasn’t until that evening. We had all day and nothing to do. But he believed only people on welfare slept past nine. At home he made me set my alarm clock for seven, even during the summer.
I got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom to brush and take a shower. When I was done, Tina was still lying in bed, the covers pulled up over her head despite the room being more than a little warm.
“Your mom’s got a hangover,” Dad said. “Let’s go down, get breakfast, let her sleep a little more.”
Of course the rules that applied to me didn’t apply to Tina. Well, not much. The whole time we were downstairs, Dad kept joking about Tina being a “lightweight,” and she wouldn’t survive one weekend in college. “Good thing she didn’t go. One frat party, she’d be more used up than Stormy Daniels.”
“Never you mind.”
When we got back to the room, Dad turned on one of those boring news shows where people yell at each other.
“Keep the volume down, Dan,” Tina said from the bed.
Dad pointed the remote at the TV and turned the volume up to fifty. Tina groaned and Dad laughed.
“…guests this morning are Heather Callaghan of the McKinley Institute for American Excellence, and Bastian Kroga, special adviser to the President.”
“That’s Doctor Kroga, if you please,” a fat man with a goatee said.
“And I am Doctor Callaghan. I have a Ph.D. from the Kennedy School at Harvard, thankyouverymuch.” That was a lady about Dad’s age, though she still looked pretty.
“Of course. Doctors. The Korean situation has intensified over the last forty-eight hours. North Korea now claims the American patrol they captured had deliberately penetrated the DMZ...”
“Can I use the iPad?” I asked Dad.
“Yeah, sure. Just keep quiet. This is important stuff.”
Old people arguing on TV. Yeah.
I picked up the tablet and opened a puzzle game.
“... the news media is taking the word of a dictator at face value,” the goatee guy said.
“What’s the alternative?” the pretty lady said.
“The President’s word should count above everything.”
“I thought you said we shouldn’t listen to dictators?”
“It is not wise to insult the President. Liberals like you—”
“I’m not actually a liberal. I’m registered Republican, though that may change. I voted for Bush, McCain and Romney.”
“Those people no longer represent the Republican party.”
“God damn right,” Dad said. “Those bastards sold us out.”
“Yes, that’s my issue,” the pretty lady said.
“Back to the topic at hand,” the host interrupted. “North Korean television released a statement from Kim Jong-un saying that if the US takes any military action against his country, he will respond with a nuclear strike on Los Angeles, San Francisco and San Diego.”
“I don’t see the problem,” Dad said.
“Kim Jong-un would be committing suicide, not just for himself, but his entire nation, if he tried that,” the goatee guy said.
“That’ll be cold comfort to twenty million dead Californians,” said the pretty lady.
“Perhaps in 2020, the President will win the state.”
“Ha! You tell that bitch, Bast. Ha-ha-ha.”
“Well that’s all the time we have for this segment. Coming up next, we’ll examine the so-called Antifa movement and their financial ties to George Soros.”
The show went to commercial.
Dad got up and went over to the little fridge, got a Coke. “You want one?”
He tossed a can to me. It landed in the bend of my elbow and rolled off onto the floor.
“Come on, don’t be a fag. A four year old girl can catch better than that.”
“Sorry.” I picked up the can.
Foam shot out from the top when I pulled the tab.
“God damn. What kinda idiot am I raising?” Dad ran over and snatched the can from me. He took it to the bathroom and dropped it in the sink.
“I’m sorry.” I crept over to the bathroom door and peeked inside, trying to judge how pissed he was.
“You’re lucky none of that got on the carpet. If we had to pay for a cleaning bill, it’d come out of your ass.” Dad turned on the sink, washed his hands. “Bad enough I’m going to have to pay for an overpriced soda that you didn’t even drink.”
“It didn’t all spray out, did it?”
Dad took the can and upended it over the toilet. “It’s gone now. You can’t even catch like a man, you don’t get any. I swear, if your momma were here, I’d slap the shit out of her. You don’t get this from me, that’s for damn sure.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. What does that do? Seriously, what do you think it accomplishes?”
“I ... don’t know.”
“I’ll tell you what it accomplishes. Precisely jack and shit.”
“I shouldn’t apologize?”
“You shouldn’t fuck up.”
“I’m—okay, I’ll try.”
“I swear to God, I wonder if you’re my son sometimes.”
He left the bathroom.
I washed my hands in the sink and took a wee.
When I went back out, Dad was standing by the window, staring down at the street. “Look at this shit.”
I went over to see what he was talking about. The sidewalks were packed. There were so many people down there, they were spilling into the street.
“What are they doing? Going to church?”
“They’re libtards. They’re going to protest the President.”
“That many? Wow.” It looked like the crowd when we go to see the Chiefs play.
“They aren’t real. They’re being paid by George Soros. He gathers up all the welfare queens and crackheads, gives them a few bucks, and buses them in.”
“There are men out there, they hate America. They hate what it stands for. This is the greatest country on Earth, and it was built by white men, like you and me. We’re a good people, so we offered to make everyone who comes here free and equal like us. Everything was fine at first, back when we only accepted other Europeans, people who shared our values. But then people from other parts of the world came, and instead of saying, ‘Hey, this is a great place you’ve built here. I want to be like you guys,’ they said, ‘Hmm, I want what you have, but I don’t want to change my ways. I’m going to act just like I did in my own country,’ even though their countries were shitholes, and they never developed beyond living in grass huts and sacrificing goats to their fake gods. And they said, ‘If you tell us how to act—if you tell us we’ve gotta be like you—we’re gonna call you racists and get the government to shut down your businesses and take everything away from you, the people who built this country.’ You remember when you were in elementary school and things were real tight?”
“Yeah.” I’d been in third grade and Dad’s company had been sued. He’d nearly gone out of business. That’s when mom had left.
“That was because some ungrateful SOB accused me of discrimination and creating a ‘hostile work environment’.” He made finger quotes. “I ended up paying half a million dollars to the NAACP to make him go away.”
“Thankfully we finally got a real president in this country, somebody who’ll stand up for Americans. But some people don’t like that. Some of them have money, and they’re using it to fight against the President. They’re trying to bring him down with fake stories. Not just the libtards, either. Lots of RINOs like that woman on TV. ‘I’m not a liberal, I just hate the President,’ my ass.” Dad reached into his shirt pocket and fished out his can of Skoal, but when he opened it up, it only had a little bit left. “I’m going down to find a 7-Eleven. You wanna come?”
“Can I stay here?” We’d gone out for lunch yesterday, and the temperature had been insane. No way I was going outside if I didn’t have to.
“Just keep quiet, don’t wake your mom up.”
Dad was gone for a long time. When he finally got back, he had lunch from McDonald’s with him. But Tina said she didn’t want any.
“Don’t want any? I spent perfectly good money on this.”
“My stomach’s still upset, and you know Mickey D’s never sits well with me. You don’t want me having the runs while we’re on the subway, or in line for the TSA, or stuck on the tarmac, do you?”
“You always do this to me. God damn, you’re as bad as Nancy, making me waste money.”
“Shut up and get back to sleep if you still need it.”
“I’m gonna be in the gym.”
He left without even eating his Big Mac. That was the last we saw of him until he came back yelling, “God dammit, aren’t you ready to leave yet?”
Tina gets up with the sheet draped around her like a robe and hobbles to the bathroom. She shuts the door and turns the fan on. A moment later, the shower starts.
I guess I have no choice. I go about packing. We don’t have too much, really—we’ve only been here two nights—but it’s spread out across the room. I put her iPad in the little suitcase, along with the book Dad’s reading. I slip my Switch in there, too. This is stuff we’ll want on the flight home.
Tina’s makeup case I put in the side of the larger suitcase. We have a collapsible hamper we’ve been using for dirty clothes. I empty it out and fold everything up and put it in the suitcase. We still have some clean clothes in there and I don’t know how Tina will tell them apart when we get home, but I don’t care, either.
There are a few other little things lying around the room, and I stuff them wherever they’ll fit. Looks like I got everything, but I go around the room to make sure. Good thing, because I find one of Tina’s shoes under the bed. There’s something else in there, too. I have to get on my hands and knees to reach it.
It’s one of Tina’s panties. The ones she’d had on last night? They’re crumpled up. I spread them out to look at them. They’re made with a shimmering green fabric—satin? Silk? I don’t know, but they’re so much smoother than my tighty-whiteys. Why do women get to wear nice underwear? That’s not fair. I turn them inside out and look at the spot where Tina’s cooch would go. I put my nose to it and sniff, but there’s no smell.
The fabric is so smooth between my fingers. I wonder what it’d feel like to rub my ying-yang with it? Or better yet, to put them on and rub myself through the fabric.
The shower shuts off. I know I have a minute or two until she dries off, but I panic at the sudden silence. I stuff the panties into my pocket and sit down on the bed.
The movie’s almost over now. The cave with the pirate ship is collapsing, and the kids have to escape through a tiny hole. They get outside thanks to the big, freaky guy with a deformed face, but he gets trapped inside. That’s sad.
“Everything ready?” Tina comes out of the bathroom in a hotel robe. It hangs down to her knees, but she doesn’t have it tied tight, and I can see most of her right thigh. I stare for a moment, hoping I’ll catch a glimpse of her cooch, but then I realize what I’m doing.
“Yeah, all ready.” I look back to the TV.
“Where are my clothes?”
“In the suitcase.”
“Why did you put them in the suitcase? I’ve gotta get dressed.”
“That’s what you told me to do.”
“I said pack. You knew I was taking a shower. You should’ve realized I need something to wear.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“You are a retard sometimes.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s the truth, Sir Whacksalot.”
“Go wait in the hall, I needa get dressed.”
“But the movie’s almost over.”
“It’s on Netflix, I’m sure. Now get!”
“I hafta use the bathroom.”
I go inside and lock the door. I take my shoes and socks off and slip out of my pants. I wonder what to do with my underwear and decide to leave it in the trashcan—no, Tina might decide to wee before we go, so I put them in the cabinet under the sink instead. Then I pull out her panties and put them on. They’re so much smaller than mine—not the waistband, which fits me perfect, but the amount of fabric. They barely cover my balls, and half my butt is bare. But they do feel good. My ying-yang swells just from the feel of the satin (or silk), and I wish I had time to have an emission. But instead I put my pants back on, and my shoes and socks.
“You done in there?”
“Yeah.” I reach for the knob, then realize she’ll be suspicious if I come out without flushing. I spin the TP roll a couple times, then push the lever. I run the sink real fast, then unlock the door.
“Come on, or your dad’s gonna kill us.”
We take the elevator to the lobby. Dad’s not there, so we head over to the restaurant. Sure enough, he’s sitting at the bar with a bottle of Bud Lite.
“You ready to go, honey?” Tina says.
“’Bout damn time.” He stands. “We hab everything? ‘Cuz if we don’t, it’s lost and gone forever. Jus’ like Clementine.”
“We have everything,” Tina says. Good. She’s gonna pretend she helped pack, which means if anything is missing, it’s her fault, not just mine.
Dad slaps some money on the bar.
“Thank you, sir,” the bartender says.
“How many did you have?” Tina says.
“On’y had time fer the one.”
“You didn’t spend two hours in the gym, Dan.”
“I mighta had a couple for relaxers after m’workout. What? It’s not like we gotta drive anywhere. Subway whole way. Hey, hey, he-ey.”
We go over to the desk. Dad tries to check out, but Tina puts a hand on his shoulder and eases him to the side. “I’ll handle it.”
Dad and I head towards the doors. He’s swerving all over the lobby, like the little kid in the Family Circus. There’s a woman sitting on a couch with her phone out. He stops and smiles at her. He doesn’t say anything, just stands in front of her.
She looks up. “Something the matter?”
“No. No. No’in’ wrong wi’ you. Y’ here wi’ summun?”
“...Yes. I am. Thank you.”
“Well ditch ‘im.”
“Le’s go fin’ a good time. You and me. I’ll pay.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Wha’ssa madder, huh? Som’in’ wrong wi’ me?”
Tina’s looking over at us. So’s the clerk.
“Go away, please,” the woman says.
“No needa be a bitch. I’m just tryin’ be nice.” Dad tries to sit, but the woman shoves him away.
“Get away from me or I’m calling the cops.”
“Cops? Fug you. Fug you.”
“Dad?” I tug on his hand.
“Yeah, yeah. C’mon Ai’en, le’z go. Le’z ... fucking cunt. Rude bitch cunt. Fug ‘er.”
We reach the doors. I don’t know if we should go outside and wait—I don’t really wanna be in the heat—or stay in here and get stares. The street outside is filling up again, though it’s not as crowded as this morning.
“Look adum,” Dad says. “All a buncha fags and dykes, prob’ly. Fucken tradors. Don’ respec’ their race.”
“You okay, Dad?”
“I’m fine. Donchoo worry ‘bout it.”
Tina comes over. She eyes Dad. “You sure you only had a couple?”
“Three or four.”
She pushes the door open and steps outside. “They were all beer?”
“I maya hadda a shot or two. You were really ... pissing me off.”
Dad and I step outside. The heat’s worse than I remember. You know when you open an oven that’s cranked up high, and the heat shoots out at you like dragon’s breath? That’s what it’s like. And I have to lug the suitcase on top of that. It has wheels, but it’s still a pain to steer through the crowd.
“I swear, if you get kicked off the plane I’m leaving you,” Tina says.
“Sssscuze me? Where y’ get off talkin’ me like that?”
“Do you know how fucking embarrassing that was?” Why is Tina yelling like that? People are turning to look at us. Can’t she keep her voice down, or better yet, wait until we get home?
“Oh, I embarrassed you, huh? Well that’s too fucking bad, now isn’ i’? If i’ weren’ fer me, you wouldn’ be in DC right now, would you? Y’d be workin’ in a Wal-Mart, livin’ with your mom and dad.”
“Yes, you brought me to DC. And we spent the entire weekend in a hotel, so you could trot me out and show me off to Brett and Squee and Donkey-Dong Doug. No sightseeing, no, none. I saw the Washington Monument through the window of our hotel room, that’s it.”
We stop at a corner, wait for the light to change.
“What di’ y’ espet? Huh? Y’know my schedules tight. I hadda come home from work Friday night, go straight to the airport, and I hafta be back in at seven tomorrow, even though we won’t get home till at least eleven tonight. And you wan’ me go marchin’ round DC in this fucking heat? Are you fucking crazy.”
“You could’ve taken a day off, it wouldn’t kill you. We could’ve had a nice family day. But you don’t care, do you? Hmm? Do you?”
Cars stop at the intersection, and after a moment, the crossing light turns green.
“You think I’d be workin’ twel ... fourteen hour days I di’n’ care?” Dad steps into the street. We follow.
“Yeah, actually, I do. I worked for you, remember? I know how you are. You pull long shifts so you can rub it in people’s faces. ‘You wanna go home after ten hours? You think I’m working you too hard? I been here since five this morning.’ Everything you do is about wagging your dick in people’s faces.”
“Tha’z no’ true!”
“It is absolutely true. Just like Aiden.”
Just like me what?
“You didn’t get custody of him cuz you love him. You just wanted to put Nancy in her place, to take the most precious thing she had away from her as revenge for dumping you.”
“Tha’s not true!” Dad stops in the middle of the sidewalk. We’re right outside the subway station. People are streaming past us to get to the escalators.
“No?” Tina says
What’s going on? I don’t ... what are they talking about?
“Ai’en, don’ lizzen to her. She’s another cunt-rag. All women are. Y’ can’ believe any’n they tell y’.”
“Dan. Stop it. You’re turning him into a little shit, just like you. Did you know he’s using my iPad to look at porn?”
“You promised you wouldn’t tell!”
“You know what he’s watching? Japanese girls getting raped—I mean, it’s fake, but that’s what’s getting him off.”
“Why’re you watching smut?” Dad says.
“Don’t go all righteous now. You are such a fucking hypocrite.”
“I thought I taught you better ’n at?” He grabs my arm. He pulls it so hard I shout. Ouch. This is the way he grabbed me after Brewster died.
I’d been coming home after school and there was a package from Amazon on the porch. It was heavy, and I had to leave the door open while I pulled it inside, and Brewster had run right past me. I’d been confused, and by the time I set the package down, Brewster was already running into the street.
Mom had called Dad at work and he’d come home in a rage. I’d been in my room. I was crying when he came in, and I ran over to hug him, but he slapped me hard across the face—so hard my nose started bleeding. He grabbed me by the shoulder and dragged me towards his bedroom. “I’m gonna hide you, you sonuvabitch. I’m gonna make you pay.” He was unbuckling his belt. I knew what that meant. I tried to break free, but his grip was too strong. I kicked his legs. One of my kicks hit him in the back of the knee, and he fell over.
That was when he really lost it. “God damn you!” he shouted and pushed me backwards. We were at the top of the stairs right then, and I fell over backwards. I tumbled all the way down to the landing. I crashed against the banister hard enough that I cracked three of the poles. And broke my arm.
The way Dad’s holding me now, it’s like back then.
“Dan. Let him go! You’re hurting him,” Tina says.
“Nah-uh, I’m teachin’ him a lesson. He’ll be a better man fer it.”
Tina pounds on Dad’s shoulders, but he doesn’t let go. People on the street are stopping to watch. One of them comes over and wraps his arms around Dad.
“Dude, chill,” the guy says.
“I’ll chill you!”
Dad spins around and punches at the guy, but he’s so drunk he misses by a mile. The guy grabs Dad by the wrist and twists his arm behind his back.
I don’t wait to find out what’s going to happen next. I run for the escalators. I get on one, but it’s going the wrong way. I have to move my legs double fast to make any progress. People are looking at me funny as I push past them.
“Aiden! Get back here!” Tina shouts.
No way! Dad’s going to kill me.
I’m almost to the bottom. Just a little bit more.
The back of my neck prickles, like when I wear a sweater in winter and the static electricity makes my hair stand on end.
“You feel that?” somebody on the other escalator says.
“Like a goose is walking on my grave.”
“You’ve never hea—hey, you got a nose bleed.”
I hit the floor. I’m outta breath. I double over, panting. But I can’t stop. I’ve gotta get away from--
“Oh my God!” a woman next to me screams.
I look up. The people coming down the escalator behind me ... what’s wrong with them? Their faces are ... they’re turning to gloop. People near the bottom are all right, mostly, but the ones high up, they’re melting. I spot Tina. Her face is almost gone. I can see her skull, with her eyeballs still inside. But even that’s going soft and running like an ice cream cone that isn’t getting eaten fast enough. The people around her are just the same.
There’s a whole group of people on the upward escalator, and when they see what’s happening, they turn and start down, but they get jammed. They can’t walk down faster than the stairs are carrying them up. They start shoving each other and fighting.
“Outta my way!”
“Jesus! No pushing!”
“Move, fat ass!”
People on the down escalators are acting the same way. A couple people get off who look fine, but the ones who come after have their faces puffed up and dripping blood. Every person who gets off is worse than the last. Some of them have no faces left.
“What’s that?” a man says.
He points at the ground. All the gloop that’s melted off people is pooling on the floor.
“Jay, let’s ... let’s get back downstairs.”
A rumble runs through the station. The floor is shaking like crazy. The walls tremble. Dust falls from the ceiling.
Tina’s halfway down the escalator. Or what’s left of her. She’s like a snowman that’s melted to the point you can barely tell it was ever a snowman. But a snowman that’s made out of red Fla-vor-ice.
“Get back, honey.” A woman wraps her hands around my shoulders and pulls me backwards. She puts her hands over her eyes. The last thing I see is Tina falling over.
To Be Continued ...
-by Sean O'Hara