Walmart hadn't been his chosen career field in middle school. That was when his school system had started administering those career placement test things. You got a half-day off of school to take the test and a week later found out whether you were destined to be a fashion designer, a microbiologist, or a postman. Because those were the only three options anyone ever got. Derick? He'd gotten postman. In seventh grade he had laughed at it and thrown the test results into the trash. Because of course he was going to go pro football or baseball or something involving balls and scores. And he'd get a huge house in Malibu and marry the Olsen twins and have five kids who all helped cure cancer. It was the same plan every seventh-grade boy had. Just... they'd all figured out their real plans before they graduated from high school. And Derick hadn't. Which was all the explanation needed for someone to understand why he was 23 and still working at the same Walmart job he got when he was 15.
Derick could make all kinds of excuses. The one other people used for him all the time was, "Your mom has been sick. Of course you can't go to college or travel or do anything other young men your age are doing. Don't feel bad, it just means you're more mature!" Good. God. If he heard that one more time he was going to burn this mother down. Derick didn't wanna hear about how mature he was. He wanted to hear a hot blonde calling his name from his truck so they could run off to Miami for an impromptu weekend. He wanted to hear people chanting "Chug!" as he downed as much alcohol as he could in one minute. He was so sick of having to take care of his mom all the time like this. He was sick of doctors telling him she didn't have long, sick of needing to stick her with needles three times a day, sick of... Of all of it! There were no excuses for this kind of life! He had been an idiot, a flat-out idiot. If he had gotten his grades up and gone to college, or at least taken classes at the community college, maybe he just... Maybe he just wouldn't be in this screwed up cesspit that was his life.
And this was why he hated the drive home from shifts. The longer the shift, the more pissed off he was, the more poisonous his thoughts got on the way home. And Kelly always cried and he knew she was close to her period so that meant she would probably cry if her socks didn't match. He drew in a deep breath as he turned into the driveway off the little side road their house was on. He knew he had to get a grip of himself before he went inside. As he braked and shifted the gear from drive to park, he imagined he was loading up a weapon of war. It might seem violent but to him it was such a mechanized, processed thing that it forced all his thoughts to come into line and settle down. Like soldiers in a regiment. And that reminded him. Tonight, he had to tell her. There was no hiding it anymore. Hopefully... signing up would be something Kelly could understand...
Derick could make all kinds of excuses. The one other people used for him all the time was, "Your mom has been sick. Of course you can't go to college or travel or do anything other young men your age are doing. Don't feel bad, it just means you're more mature!" Good. God. If he heard that one more time he was going to burn this mother down. Derick didn't wanna hear about how mature he was. He wanted to hear a hot blonde calling his name from his truck so they could run off to Miami for an impromptu weekend. He wanted to hear people chanting "Chug!" as he downed as much alcohol as he could in one minute. He was so sick of having to take care of his mom all the time like this. He was sick of doctors telling him she didn't have long, sick of needing to stick her with needles three times a day, sick of... Of all of it! There were no excuses for this kind of life! He had been an idiot, a flat-out idiot. If he had gotten his grades up and gone to college, or at least taken classes at the community college, maybe he just... Maybe he just wouldn't be in this screwed up cesspit that was his life.
And this was why he hated the drive home from shifts. The longer the shift, the more pissed off he was, the more poisonous his thoughts got on the way home. And Kelly always cried and he knew she was close to her period so that meant she would probably cry if her socks didn't match. He drew in a deep breath as he turned into the driveway off the little side road their house was on. He knew he had to get a grip of himself before he went inside. As he braked and shifted the gear from drive to park, he imagined he was loading up a weapon of war. It might seem violent but to him it was such a mechanized, processed thing that it forced all his thoughts to come into line and settle down. Like soldiers in a regiment. And that reminded him. Tonight, he had to tell her. There was no hiding it anymore. Hopefully... signing up would be something Kelly could understand...
No comments:
Post a Comment