The following is a chapter from my novel in the works. If you want more context to this chapter please feel free to start at the beginning over here. Note that there is a paywall in the back half of this chapter. I value my work in fiction and if you want to read and support it, please support me. Enjoy.
Three weeks before the admission
The bus seemed slower than usual as it chugged along through its route. It seemed like extra passengers were at each and every bus stop on the way through. At this rate Mike figured he would be at least ten minutes late to his job, this would be his third time in the past week. It made him feel like his stomach was starting to eat way at itself. The orientation at Target warned him that multiple days of tardiness could lead to disciplinary action.
He wondered if they kept it vague with that term disciplinary action to instill fear in the workers. It made his mind jump to possible ways they could hinder his work. Would he be yelled at? Fired? Suspended without pay? Or just verbally scolded for not clocking in at his scheduled time?
But it’s not my fault. He thought as the bus stopped at another location and three elderly passengers took their time getting up on the bus and digging out the exact change to pay the driver. There were two more stops before they reached the plaza where he worked at. He had five minutes until his shift started, the odds were not in his favor.
When he did get through the doors and to the time clock, he was twenty-five minutes late. The blood in his body seemed to boil as he got in and then looked for his floor manager, Stacey. It wasn’t lost on Mikey how he had his unpleasant sister Stacey to deal with at home and then he had a grouchy manager with the same name. He was able to find her in the Pharmacy section with a trolley full of Band-Aid boxes that she was stocking on to the shelves. When she noticed Mike, she froze and then looked as though her blood was boiling. Her crowing voice that told the history of too many cigarettes smoked back-to-back yelled at him,
“Oh, look who finally decided to come to work. This is getting ridiculous Treble. Mr. Dillan will have to speak with you before the week is out.” Mike started to talk but she went back to putting boxes onto the shelves. She croaked over her shoulder,
“You’re with Sal in the up front, they will probably need another cashier today.” Mike didn’t want to go back to the register assignment and began to protest but Stacey didn’t hear him, she never did. He shuffled back to the front of the store and found Sal. He was a short older man with a weathered face, white hair, and a white beard that stopped at his small chest. His soft voice addressed Mike,
“You’re here.” Mike just nodded. Sal shrugged as if a full conversation of disagreements had been shared. He pointed out Mike to register seven. Mike’s body seemed to drag as he aimed it towards the small space. His last few experiences with working at the checkout were not pleasant. The monotonous influx of products to scan and customers arguing about their totals not matching what they thought it would be. Plus, the managers wanted him to promote the Target card to customers and have them sign up. But they would have to be able to hear Mike’s voice first.
The day went by rather quickly and Mike’s calves throbbed with too much blood and his lower back ached from standing for so many hours. He punched out and went to the bus stop in the parking lot. The only bench was preoccupied by an elderly woman with five bags from Target and an overweight man in a suit that was somehow baggy on his bariatric frame. Mike just stood for a while, which only made his legs and back ache more.
He was getting hungry due to skipping food on his break because he didn’t pack lunch, and he was trying to save as much money as he could. He wanted to move out and on his own so badly. With this next paycheck he would have just over four thousand dollars to his name. It was all in cash at home in his safety deposit box. He had been holding in as much of his wages as he could since his mother was taking half to pay towards the bills. It was not too big of a deal but now that she had to sell his car it was a pain for him. The cost of bus fare wasn’t detrimental, but he found it to be a series of cuts into the financial independences he was working for.
At the local library he had looked up apartments in the areas to rent from. The listings from established complexes were too much with rent for him and his salary. But he did find a basement apartment available for him that was only four blocks from this plaza and his job. He could walk to work most of the time and would never have to be late because of sluggish public transportation.
All he needed to do was get a security deposit and this listing was a steal of nine hundred a month. He wanted to make sure he had enough to cover the rent and have money for his needs. His monthly income would cover the rent and leave enough for him to buy groceries and save up. Maybe in a few months’ time he could afford furniture or a car. The possibilities created a daydream for him, and he forgot how sore and tired he was for a moment.
When you have so little to your name. Dreams become the only sanctuary. He thought as the bus finally arrived. It was packed and he would have to stand most of the ride home.
When he reached his apartment building it was two hours since his shift had ended, and the sun was setting. He approached the main entrance and found the door was propped open with a rock. That always meant that either people were moving, or someone was letting in people that didn’t live in the building. It didn’t concern him because he was thinking of collapsing on the couch or on his bed if the living room was occupied. He was starving and climbing up two flights of stairs was the worst part to the end of his day. Or so he thought in this moment.
The lock was stuck, and he almost broke the key to turn the deadbolt. Fortunately, he was able to get the door open and went inside. Stacey was on the couch watching some reality television and her friend Kelly Doreen was with her. They were cackling and smelled like a bar as they watched the screen. Mike ducked into the kitchen to find something to eat.
The fridge just had half a loaf of bread, a little milk left in the gallon jug, some condiments, and a jar of bread & butter pickles. He hated bread & butter flavored pickles. He settled on the bread and checked the pantry cabinet next to the fridge hoping for a can of tuna or some peanut butter. He found neither, just some boxes of Rice-A-Roni and Kraft Mac N’ Cheese. He dug behind the boxes and found a few dusty cans of black beans and a box of dry spaghetti. Nothing to use to make a sandwich. He looked back in the fridge and found that there was a nub of butter left in the dish. He took two slices of bread and set them in the toaster oven. He filled a plastic souvenir cup from the city with tap water and drank to keep his stomach satiated.
With a paper plate of buttered toast and his cup of tap water he headed for his room. His sister and her horse faced friend spotted him and called out to him as he passed.
“Hey Mute Mike. Where’re you going?” That nickname was like a cloud over his head whenever someone like Kelly called him that.
“That’s all you having, little bro? Just toast? You eat like some monk in the Rocky Mountains, or something.” As he shuffled past the couch he mumbled,
“There’s nothing to eat in this house.”
Stacey talked over him, “Don’t bother mom down in her room. She’s in a pissy mood tonight.”
“Probably because you’re home with your bitch of a friend.” Mike walked up to his mother’s room and tapped the door with his big toe. Mrs. Treble barked from the other side,
“Stace, I want at least an hour of peace to myself. You and your little diva have the living room, let me read in peace!” Mike pushed the door open, it never latched properly since Paul had once kicked it open. His mother sat on the bed with a paperback novel in her hands and her anger melted at the sight of him.
“Oh, Mikey. Your home!” She looked at her alarm clock on her bedside, then back at him. “You should’ve been home over an hour ago! Where have you been?” Mike balanced the plate on his cup and picked up a piece of toast but spoke before he bit into it.
“The bus was delayed, and I had to wait for it. There were a lot of stops on the way home.” His mother cupped her ear and asked him to repeat that with more wind in his voice. He sighed and yelled it. She tossed her John Grisham thriller aside and scolded him,
“Don’t you scream at your mother! I keep a roof over your head and food on your table.” Mike looked at his toast and wanted to say: some food you keep in the home. But he remembered that he was close to getting out of here. He just took a bit of his dried toast and waved goodbye as he went to his room.
He strolled into the open bedroom and didn’t give much thought to that reality. As he finished his first piece of toast, he took a seat on his worn and collapsing mattress. His room had a few books and notepads in it and some DVDs that he used to play on his own DVD player that he bought cheap with a used personal television from the pawn shop in Middletown. But the television burnt out and the DVD player was swiped by Paul over two months ago. At least he had the Xbox and the DVD player in the living room to enjoy his time off.
With his last bite of dry toast consumed, he got up to change out of his work clothes. When he was switched to a pair of basketball shorts and a worn T-shirt of Green Day he looked over his clothes for work tomorrow. To his disappointment he didn’t have any fresh Khaki pants or a clean red shirt to wear to work. Laundry day wasn’t for another two days, so he pulled out a red polo shirt he had worn two days earlier and sprayed it down with some Axe body spray. The shirt still smelled unpleasant at the armpits, but he would give it another spray in the morning to overpower the stench.
All that he wanted to focus on was getting his paycheck this week and cash it out as soon as possible. He would have enough to give a down payment at the apartment listing. All he needed was enough of a financial cushion to go for it. He reached under his bed and found the lock box that he kept his money in. Six months' worth of saving and scrounging was in this box, and it was his way out of this unpleasant life with his mother, his bitch of a sister, and his drug addict of an older brother.
Then he set the three numbers to unlock the box. His chest felt like it had been scrapped hollow, perhaps to mirror the emptiness of the box. The money was gone! He kept staring into it as though his eyes would adjust and show piles of twenties and fifties laying there to be counted up and taken to a money order service. But the short black metal box was a void, and the sight of it made Mike feel violated. Hot rage pulsed up into his skull and he threw the box aside and stormed out of his room to the living room where Stacey and Kelly were now dancing to a music video of some obnoxious hip-hop that Mike couldn’t identify. He grabbed the remote off the couch and switched off the screen to get the attention from his sister. The silence of the television caused Stacey and Kelly to yell out simultaneously,
"What the fuck?" to which they glared at Mike, but he was glad to have their attention as he screamed,
“Did you go into my room and through my stuff!” Kelly swayed from whatever high or buzz she was riding while Stacey was panting from the booze and twerking that she had been doing. She took a minute to process the questions before scoffing at Mike and saying,
“I never go into your smelly little room. What would I need out of there?” Mike wasn’t satisfied with this answer, and he chucked the remote in his hand down the hallway and it bounced off the frame of their mother’s bedroom. He screamed,
“I had money in my room! And it’s been stolen! Who was in my fucking room!” Kelly giggled and said to Stacey,
“Looks like Mute Mike can talk after all.” Mike wanted to punch her horse face but then his mother’s footsteps closed in as she proclaimed,
“What’s going on? What’s with the screaming?” Mike repeated his problem at full volume and his mother yelled back,
“Inside voice to me, Mikey!” Then she set her beady eyes on her daughter, “Stace, what happened to Mikey’s money?” Stacey rolled her eyes and pleaded ignorance about the matter. Then Mrs. Treble’s face fell into the fingers of her right hand along with a sigh as she asked,
“Did you let Paul come in?” Stacey looked at Kelly and then back at her mother.
“Yeah, he said he needed to use the bathroom and get some of his clothes.” Now their mother screamed,
“How stupid are you, girl! He has none of his clothes here! I gave away what he didn’t take with him after I kicked him out! He’s the reason I’m getting a new lock for the door! He’s already swiped valuables from our home for his heroin habit. Don’t you ever think!” Stacey had tears forming in her eyes that were already bloodshot. Kelly was looking at the door to leave the apartment but Stacey and Mike her in her way. Stacey decided to fire back,
“He’s still my brother! He’s sick and needs support! You can be a fucking ice queen and turn your back on him, just like you will to me and Mikey! But I’m not going to shut the door on Paul’s face when he’s down on his luck!”
“You are as stupid as you are careless, Stacey! Your brother has been on drugs since he was in middle school. He doesn’t want to get better; he just wants to get high. And now you’re enabling him, and he’s gone and stolen your little brother’s money! You aided a criminal in our home!” Now tears started to flow and erode small channels in Stacey’s layers of foundation and mascara.
“Fuck you! You only care about yourself! You’re supposed to be looking out for your children! Not calling them criminals and yelling at them! You suck as a mother!” Now tears were developing in Darla’s eyes that were sunken in her face. Mike’s anger had vanished back when the screaming between his sister and mother started. He felt a twisted nausea of guilt and the screaming made him struggle to breathe as it stirred up old memories.
“Well, if I’m so terrible, then you should leave. All of you! I did what I could to raise you brats since your daddy decided to take off on us. But now you, Paul and even Mikey are old enough to get out and get your own places. I already had to shove Paul out of here. You two —” She waved a pudgy finger from Mike to Stacey, “— had better get to finding your own homes. Because mine is not available anymore!” Tears carried through the deep wrinkles and folds of her face. Mike suddenly remembered that his savings for a new place were gone. He tried to get his mother’s attention, but she was already going to the bathroom to get something to calm down and then pass out. Stacey was already grabbing her bag and ordering Kelly to follow along as they stormed out of the apartment. They would be out all night, and Stacey wouldn’t come home for two days.
Mike stood by himself in the living room. Without his savings and without his family.