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And they weren't "Sure come on over" Either...

No Visitors Allowed

Kevin was great to me for the remainder of his time with dad and I. I was sad to see him go. Sad and anxious. Howie still hadn't called but had told us through Brian, that he would not be coming home for another week. I pressed Kevin about it. Something had to be wrong. Kev just kept insisting that he just needed space. Poor guy was stressed out. I knew it was something more, just tried to deny it.

As for me, by the end of the week, I was feeling much better. My stomach still hurt, it was always twisting but other than that. I was healed. When the day came for Kevin's departure, I was actually shaky. I did not want to be left alone with that horrible man, but I was an adult and as an adult, sometimes you had to do what you had to do. If I kept my distance and he kept his, we would be okay.

I was also a little more anxious than usual because my birthday was right around the corner. Just thinking about it made me shudder so I quickly pushed it out of my mind. It wouldn't be so bad, I had made plans with a group of friends from school. Pizza, movie and whatever else. No home though. That was for damned sure.

Kevin had given me a huge hug and told me to call if I needed anything. I believed him. It was hard for me to believe people who said that. I had given up a long time ago trusting people. You only got hurt in the long run. He gave me a long glance before finally turning to board his plane. I waved and instantly felt alone. Again.

At least I was going out tonight, That would make me feel better. I had left then and made my way back home. I picked up some fast food for dad on my way home from the airport. I figured me and the guys would do dinner out somewhere. I got home to find their cars in my driveway. I closed my eyes in horror.

Visitors at the Carter house, unless family, was taboo. A big no-no. We all learned that early on. Mom was to scared have new people over invading her space and dad was no better. I remember once Melissa attempted to have a party here for her birthday. She invited about 10 girls. Mom acted so crazy that some of the girls actually asked to leave early.

I was just utterly embarrassed by my parents. I hated even being associated with them. If we were out in a public place and I heard whispers about how my Dad looked or my Mom smelled, I would simply just walk faster. Pretend that I was just as appalled as everyone else seemed to be. Truth is I was. Mom and Dad never had bathing as a high priority on their list. Mom smelled so bad by the end of her life that you could smell her from a block away. Howie would joke and say that was the smell of crazy. I didn't think he was kidding though. I KNEW it was the smell of crazy and I was afraid someday that smell would be sprayed on me. On dark rainy nights when I run to the bathroom half asleep I can still smell her. It has become a part of me. Forever embedded in my nostrils.

Dad's hygiene isn't quite as bad as Mom's was. He does shower about once a week. But his hair does tend to look like one big wod of grease. Blonde grease. It's not so much how he looks, although, I would love it if he had teeth, but it's the way he acts, that makes him an embarrassment to me. His biting comments, cut to the core. He offends pretty much anyone he meets. Using the most vulgar racial slurs for people. Calling them idiots, fat, stupid, ugly, you name it and he has said it. Whenever people want to come over, I make up excuses as to why that would be impossible. Dad is sick, or We have termites or Something big and furry escaped a zoo and has come into our house. Anything to keep these people the hell away.

Sometimes it worked, but sometimes it didn't. Guess today was one of those times. I grabbed my father's bag of food and slowly walked inside. There I heard laughter amazingly enough. "Kaos! There you are, we were wondering what happened to you" My good friend Brent said. I smiled and held up the bag of Taco Bell. "Had to bring dad home some grub" I said handing my father the bag. "See, I told you the kid takes his damn time" He grunted as he walked inside. When he was out of ear shot I apologized more out of instinct than anything else. "Sorry"

"For what?" Mark, my other good friend asked, "For whatever he did or said when I was gone"

"He didn't do anything, just telling us stories about you" I was shocked at first. My father telling stories about me. Wow! amazing. "Yeah he was telling us about the time you were 8 and got scared in a haunted house and you shit yourself!" They all laughed. "Actually I was only four"

"Whatever man, that's the best!" Brent said through a smile. "He said Kevin was here"

"Yeah he was. He left today, I brought him to the airport, that's where I was"

"Why did he come?"

"Not sure" I didn't like talking about my personal life. It made me uncomfortable.

"Your dad said he wishes Kevin lived with him instead of you. He's a riot Nick!" Mark said laughing. They only thought he was joking. They had NO idea that he meant every word he said.

For whatever reason, these guys tended to like my father. They never understood why it was I didn't. They thought I was exaggerating. He couldn't be that bad. Lot's of people thought that way. Truth of the matter was, nothing set me off more than someone saying aw, your poor dad, or you are so mean to him. God that really pissed me off. If they only knew. That's why in times when I needed my friends the most, I often pulled away from them. Because they only made the situation worse with their misconceptions of what I was going through. Who could blame them, I mean unless you walked in my shoes, how on earth would you even know what it was like being in my skin.

I did the same with them though. I would go over Brent's house for dinner and see him hug his Mom and dad as they made him the central figure in dinner conversation. Asking him how his day was, what his dreams were. Etc. Then we would go up to his room and he would complain about them. I always wanted to step in to say, "Are you kidding me?" But I never did, because once I left maybe those masks of normality came off. You never knew what people came from. I wished they would do the same for me. Believe me when I said that I would rather live in a cardboard box then be here with my dad. Mark and Brent walked into the kitchen to join my dad, so I had no choice but to follow.

He was eating at the table, leaned over. Grease from his tacos getting all over his chin that I knew he wouldn't wash for at least a week. The smell of onions in the air, again that I knew would linger on his breath forever. He was dripping onto his shirt which was already stained from breakfast earlier that morning. "So Mr. C, any other funny Nick stories?" Mark asked pulling up a chair and sitting next to my dad.

"Of course I do, the boys an ass you know" They laughed. I smiled, looking at the clock. I was hungry but I knew if we stayed much longer my appetite would be lost. As would my desire to go out and enjoy myself.

"There was one time, when he was like 10 or something, he got his hand caught in a revolving door. Remember that jackass?" They looked at me as if they wanted me to finish this charming story, "Yeah I did, but it was when I was 16"

"God Kaos, that makes it even worse!" Brent said.

"Yeah, I guess. I wasn't paying attention. No big deal"

"No big deal?" Dad made sure he asked. "I remember you coming home from school crying like a little girl"

"How can you remember that if you didn't even know how old I was?" He ignored my question and continued with the dreadful story, as my stomach went from hunger pains to nervous churning. "He comes home in tears. I hurt my arm" He mimicked me by holding out his arm. "I got it stuck in the door" He started laughing hysterically. He was laughing so hard that even I had to smile. "Yeah, well guys we should be going" I said once gain looking at the time. "Aw, Man Kaos you are such a party pooper" Mark said, "Yeah Kaos!" Dad agreed. He was totally making fun of my friends right in front of their faces while they cluelessly laughed along. "Well, it was nice talking to you Mr. C and welcome home" Brent said shaking my father's greasy hand. I winced. Mark waved to him and we started for the door.

As we were just about to climb into Mark's car, he changed my plans in an instant, "God Nick, I don't know what your problem is with your Dad. He's a really cool guy!"

Brent was nodding his head, "You know guys" I said, suddenly just wanting to go to bed, "I think I am going to back out"

"Why?"

"Because I'm pretty tired and my stomach has started to hurt. I don't want to hurl all over you dawg" I laughed, holding my stomach. "No, way dude. No hurling allowed in this car. Get out and we'll see you on your birthday Kaos"

"Cool then were still on for that right?"

"Right!"

"Bye guys" I said as I watched them back out of the drive way and speed down the street honking the whole way. Once the car turned the corner, My smile disappeared and I once again walked into my house. Dad was back sitting on his chair staring at the TV. "Your back already?" He asked me as I hung up my jacket. "No, I decided not to go"

"Hmm"

"You could of told them some good stories about me you know" He looked over at me, "Those were the good stories"

"Whatever" I said as I went into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. "Hey Nick, have you heard from Howie?" He asked me as I walked back into the living room, "No"

My dad looked disappointed. "Sorry" I felt the need to say. Sorry you got stuck with me, I know you would rather anyone else, well maybe except for AJ.

"Well, I'm going to bed Dad. Good night" He was entranced watching the television again. No sound just staring at the pictures. I wonder what he was really seeing. I wonder if he was watching scenes of his life. His biggest regrets, his biggest failures. I wonder if he saw me.

With that pleasant thought I made my way back upstairs to eat my sandwich alone.