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November 15th, 11:10p.m.
I should really be getting to sleep soon…it’s been one hell of a day, and Rachel hasn’t even been here to sort of dilute the insanity with her calmness. I mean, she was here til like, 4:30, when my mom finally calmed down a bit, but she had to go because she got a call from her son; apparently he was feeling very ill. He’s at least 27, but Rachel says he’s got a poor immune system, and he’s kind of, well, fat, so it’s hard enough for him to get around without being sick on top of it, I guess. Anyhow, after Rachel left, I could hear my mom pacing back and forth in her room down the hall from me, and in the room next to mine I could hear Alice’s music blasting. She didn’t talk to her girlfriend tonight; it seems like they only talk when nothing serious is happening.
Anyway, Ed came home. Aunt Carol dropped him off. There was some chaos. Enough said.
What’s interesting is the conversation I had with Edgar after he went up to his room and slammed the door. I gave him some time to cool off, then went and knocked on his door.
“Hey, Ed, k’I come in?”
I heard him grunt the affirmative, and walked into his room. I don’t know how, but it seems to look worse every day. His clothes were strewn all over the place; on tables and chairs and his bed, balled up on his shelf, hanging out of half-open drawers. He had at least six bowls and cups, a few with the spoons stuck to the inside, surrounding the computer monitor on his desk. His pens, pencils, and open school books were littered all over the ground, sheets torn out of notebooks, a ruler. His backpack lay unzipped next to the foot of his bed. The bookshelf was covered in books (obviously), drawings, elementary school clay projects, a few knocked over pictures and some empty frames, a small globe, a few boxes. His sheets and blankets were off the bed and thrown on top of a huge pile of laundry.
The one clear spot in the room was the place he was standing; right in front of the window with the blinds pulled down, canvas in front of him on an easel, lamp nearby lighting the image in front of him; it was a coal sketch, only just started, of what looked like a straight-on view of him.
With anyone else, Edgar would have covered his picture first, or slide it carefully into his closet, where he keeps all his other paintings, but he’s shared enough of his paintings with me not to be shy. He glanced up as I entered.
“Hey, Ada,” Ed sounded tired.
“Hey,” I said, and sat down on his bed.
He poked about on his canvas a bit more, added a few lines with the charcoal, stood back and cocked his head at it, then gave it up and sat down on the chair nearby. I guess he wasn’t feeling inspired.
I watched him. “You could do with a haircut, ya know. Your hair keeps getting in your face.”
“You sound like Rachel.”
I gave a smiled and rolled my eyes. “Great, that’s exactly what we need…two Rachels…”
His mouth twitched, but he seemed too distracted to be truly amused.
I looked at him again, and decided I should start the conversation he would never have with anyone else in the family. “So you went to go find Dad.”
He nodded. “I went to go find Dad.”
“How?”
He sighed. “I left school after eighth period. A friend of mine had ninth free and offered me a ride, he was going the same way as Aunt Carol’s house.”
I paused. “How did you know Dad was there?”
“Well, where else would he be? He’s too damn high and mighty to go to a motel…”
I conceded the point with a nod. We were quiet for a bit, until I sighed.
“You had me kinda freaked out, Edgar.” When he said nothing, and only looked down at his hands, I continued. “You coulda called or something. Even Alice was worried.”
He looked a little surprised at that, I could tell by the twitch of his eye. “Yeah, well…”
I knew he was sorry for worrying us, though he was the type that would never say it. “Okay.”
I glanced at him. I knew already why he’d gone to find Dad; I knew Ed well enough. I may as well get to the interesting bit. “So…what’d he do when he saw you?”
Edgar snorted with a mixture of amusement and contempt and looked up at me. “He turned all white and raised his eyebrows in that dorky expression he’s got…”
I knew exactly what Ed was talking about, and laughed a little.
His expression went dark, then, though. “Then he told me to wait in the front hall. He went into the kitchen and came back a moment later. I guess he was calling Aunt Carol, ‘cause she showed up ten minutes later.”
“Did you get a chance to tell him what bad timing he’s got leaving now, right when Mom’s meds’ve suddenly stopped working?”
“Sort of. I told him he’s a coward, and if he was going to be such a weakling we didn’t need him anyways. I told him not to bother coming home.” Edgar’s voice had risen. “Could he have possibly picked a worse time to have his mid-life crisis vacation?”
I’d remembered, then, that I’d forgotten to check my dad’s drawers and see how long he’d probably be gone. I’d decided to check them tomorrow.
Anyways, I told Edgar that when Dad came back, we’d make sure he knew what a d**k he was being. I think it made Ed feel better knowing that he wasn’t the only one pissed off, but I’m not actually that mad at Dad, to be honest. I think he’s just panicking about Mom, and even though it’s stupid of him to run off, I know he’ll be back soon. But Edgar made some good points; he’s kind of acting like a coward. I never thought of my dad as weak before. I don’t like the feeling of seeing him like that. Now that I have, I don’t feel like I can go back.
I’d sighed, then. “Yeah, well…what can you do, eh?”
Edgar seemed to want to vent a little. “Well, I don’t care what he does, that’s for sure. Stupid a*****e. I hope he doesn’t come home. I think it’s good he’s gone, better for all of us! We’ll manage stuff on our home, without that dumb ******** messin’ around with our lives.” Edgar seemed to be getting more aggravated as he talked. “He’s always been so freaking uptight about everything! The only reason he got through before, when mom was all messed up, was because he had that stupid Carol coming over every ******** day with her stupid husband Dave. What a dorky name. Dave. I don’t like Dave. I don’t like Carol, either. And I really don’t like that gutless son of b***h!” He sat there for a few moments, breathed heavily, eyes searched the ground for something. Searched for reason, maybe, in this whole messed up thing.
He didn’t continue, and I felt like I should say something, but I didn’t know what. You’re right, he is an a*****e? He shouldn’t come back? But I wanted Dad to come back, I mean, eventually. I waited, and after a moment, I simply got up, walked over to him, and as he got up I hugged him. He seemed surprised for a moment, but then I felt his arm tentatively reach around me, too, and I smiled. My head rested on his shoulder, since he’s taller than me, and I got a whiff of the faint smell of his cologne. One of the things I’ve always liked about Edgar is that he never wears too much cologne.
A moment later and I left, and he went back to his charcoal, though I heard a quiet “thanks” before I was gone.