Juicy

  “You okay, babe?” Juicy rubbed his arms. “You seem tense. If you’re having second thoughts-”

  “No.” He said quickly. He tried to relax. “I just want to make sure that we don’t drop the ball on some small detail.” He sighed. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

  Troy sat on the Greyhound bus several hours later. He hadn’t called his parents to explain that he was coming by; he hadn’t wanted anything to sidetrack him…well truthfully, he just hadn’t wanted to chicken out. If he was there, he couldn’t just walk away if things got rough.

  Sighing, he reviewed the last words that he’d said to his Dad; ‘I’ll call you tomorrow…’ And that had been over seven years ago. When the train landed in the station he considered calling his Dad to come pick him up, but that would have been too weird. Instead he sprung for a cab, though under normal circumstances, he’d never splurge on such a thing.

  He stared out of the window as the driver passed familiar spots, as well as spots that should have been familiar but had changed over the years. He did not want to do this. He did not enjoy being back in this place that marked a time of his life when he had been unsure and in pain. Sure, there had been pain over the years while he lived on the streets. But it was pain based on choices that he had made.

  It was dusk when the cab stopped in front of the pretty brick house. He retrieved his duffel bag and stood there on the curb. A light shone through the front window, and it was as it always had been; Mom’s flower garden was without one weed, her roses climbing up the trellis even more plush than ever before. Dad’s Buick was still in the drive-way. He hadn’t gotten a new car in all of these years.

  Before he had even taken one step forward, the front door opened and Dad was standing at the doorway straining to see him clearly. He was so old. This was not how he had remembered him. But of course he would have aged; Dad would be in his sixties now. He came forward and Mom was suddenly at his side. They stared, almost in disbelief. He continued up the walkway, stopping just a feet from them.

  In just seven short years his parents had aged drastically. Mom was barely recognizable. She looked just like Grandma. Her face was rounded from weight gain and her skin was dull and pale. Her normally coiffed hair was pulled back into a hasty ponytail. Dad was thinner, haggard and there was absolutely no color left in his hair. It was completely white. Had he done this to them? The idea of it caused his stomach to plunge.

  “Troy?” His mother said in a shaky voice.

  “It’s me, Mom.”

  “My god…” She said. “We thought you were dead.” She was holding her hand out to him in disbelief. He closed the space between them and slowly took her hand. He dropped his duffel bag and pulled his Mom into his arms when she began crying.

  He looked over at his Dad who had yet to speak. Tears were gliding down his creased cheeks. Troy swallowed back his surprised sob at the sight of his parent’s anguish. What had he done? What had he selfishly done to them?

  ***

  “Do you want something to eat, son?” Mom was moving about nervously. “We just finished dinner but I can heat you some leftovers.”

  “No thank you, Mom. I’m not hungry.” He was sitting on the couch and his Dad was sitting in his reclining chair, leaning forward.

  “You’re looking good, son.” He said. “You’ve taken care of yourself over the years.”

  He didn’t dispute his father’s words, although he knew deep down that that had not always been the case.

  His mother finally sat down opposite him in the matching reclining chair. “What happened to you, son? Where have you been all of these years?” He saw his Dad give her a warning look and was unsure what that was about.

  “We thought…well that you might have gotten hurt out on the streets, especially when you never called back-”

  “…or worse, that…well you know. They say that when you abruptly stop the medication it can lead to suicide.” Dad was staring at his Mother and Troy realized that this is what their fear had been. They had feared suicide; perhaps even that they had driven him to it.

  He was shaking his head. “I’m so sorry that you spent all of these years wondering that.” He closed his eyes, almost overcome with emotion. “It was incredibly selfish of me.”

  His father stared at him with watery grey eyes. He reached out a hand and placed it over his son’s. “Selfish?” The older man was shaking his head. “No son. It wasn’t you that was the selfish one.” He sighed and gave his son a shaky smile. “Gladys, call Bob and Lorie and tell them that Troy’s home!”

  Troy smiled. He was so happy that he had come. And he couldn’t wait to see his brother and sister. Dad took him upstairs. “Are you moving back home permanently, Troy?” He asked hopefully.

  Troy gave him a surprised look. “No, just for a short visit.” He didn’t tell them that he planned on leaving tomorrow.

  “Okay.” There was disappointment in his Dad’s voice. He opened the door to his old bedroom. “We had to make some changes to your room since the Grandkids come over at times. Lorie has three now and Bob’s gotten married and has two.”

  “Wow. I’ve missed a lot.” He looked at his room that now held two beds instead of the one. A lot of his things were gone; the music posters, gaming systems, and most of the personal effects from the bookshelf. The old computer still set on the desk and Troy entered the room with more nostalgia than the trepidation that he thought he’d feel.

  His Dad watched him nervously. “We put your things in a box under the stairs if you want them. Your clothes are still in the closet. Mom didn’t want to pack them away unless you came back…and so. Well, just get comfortable and come downstairs when you want. The kids should be here shortly. Bob moved closer in to town when…well, just to help out.” Dad patted him on the back before leaving.

  As soon as he was alone he roamed around the room, taking in everything. He checked out the bookshelf, having forgotten all of the little things that had made this place comfortable. For some reason he had to touch everything, even smelling the clothes in his closet. He felt suddenly light headed. This is how he smelled before the streets had driven away the smell of home…

  Things moved sideways and for a while there was nothing but his staring eyes as he wavered on his feet. When he came to he had a moment of confusion as he tried to reconcile his past and the present. After a moment he remembered that he was not seventeen. He was soon to be twenty-five and he controlled his life.

  Troy checked under the bed for his box of keepsakes. Sitting on the side of the bed, he opened the cigar box, surprised that his mother hadn’t moved them. He picked up the pokemon cards and chuckled that these; his prized possessions were still in their hiding place. He left them out for his nieces and nephews and then dug through the box, rediscovering the little trinkets that had been so important to his childhood. He shook his head, unable to connect to the kid that had saved the ticket stub to the movie The Matrix. Absently he returned the box under his bed, and then he opened the desk drawers finding only some pens and pencils and scraps of paper.

  He suddenly remembered. He needed to call Juicy! He hurried out the door. “Dad, I need to make a collect call. Is that okay?” He heard his father’s voice calling up from the kitchen.

  “Sure, son.”

  Troy returned to his room and made the call from there, dialing Juicy’s cell number since he knew that she’d still be doing someone’s hair.

  “Hello?” Came Juicy’s rushed greeting.

  “Hi, honey. It’s me.”

  “Ooo, baby. Hi. I missed you. Hold on.” She covered the phone and he could hear her speaking in a muffled tone. A few moments later she had returned to the phone. “Hi baby, are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “How’s your visit so far? Good?”

  “Better than I’d expected. It’s great actually.”

  “Okay.” She sighed in relief. “Still coming home tomorrow?”

  “That’s the plan. Juice,
I don’t want to keep you. I know how your clients get. I love you, okay?”

  He could hear the smile in her voice when she responded. “I love you too. Bye baby.”

  “Bye.” He hung up and heard some commotion downstairs. Ahhh, Lorie and Bob must be home. He hurried down the stairs to the sight of Bob’s angry glare. And the smile that had been plastered on his face, froze and then slipped away.

  The older, man pointed a finger at him. His face was angry and red. “Who the hell are you to just show up out of the blue as if everything is ok?! Seven fucking years, Troy! Seven years!”

  Mom was trying to soothe her elder son, hovering over him as if he was an overgrown toddler. Dad was staring back and forth from both men, the anxiety on his face was clear.

  “Robert!” Bob turned to him.

  “No, Dad. He has always been selfish. Everything is always about him; his mental illness, his running away, his psychiatrist! Now he waltzes back into the house as if he’s been on an extended summer vacation!”

  A line appeared between Troy’s brow. He came the rest of the way down the stairs until he was in the entryway where Bob was glaring.

  “Is that your real problem? That it’s always been about me?”

  “My real problem is YOU!”

  “Bob please…” Mom pleaded.

  “No, it’s okay. Let him speak.” Troy folded his arms in front of him, still frowning.

  “My mother and father have spent every day of the last seven years fearing that they had pushed you to suicide.” Bob began pacing, still keeping his younger brother in his angry sites.

  “When you called on your birthday, Mom thought that meant that you would come home, get back on your meds and that they could finally save your sorry ass. But then you never called back again! Mom waits for you to call at every one of your birthdays!”

  Troy closed his eyes sadly. “I’m so sorry, Mom.” He whispered.

  “That’s not good enough!” Bob yelled. “That is not good enough.” His voice was shaking. Troy looked up suddenly. Tears had sprouted in Bob’s eyes. “Y-you…you came to my house that night and I sent you back home.” Bob turned away and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

  “You little asshole…you just ran off again and I hoped that you’d give me another chance and come to me, but you didn’t.”

  Troy felt his own eyes stinging. He placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Bob looked at the hand that rested on his shoulder, and then slowly turned. His face was red from his broken control. He suddenly gripped his brother and hugged him tight.

  “God, I was so scared…I thought-”

  “I know.”

  “No, you don’t know!” He continued to grip his younger brother tightly. “I thought that you were just doing it to get attention. And as soon as everyone was scared to death then you’d come home and try to get your way. Except you never came home.” He suddenly released his brother and looked at him in wide-eyed surprise. “You weren’t doing it to get attention. You left because we had really driven you away.”

  He heard his mother’s sharp sob and Troy began to shudder as he felt his own tears coming close to the edge. He finally covered his face and he sobbed in a way that he hadn’t in all of the years that he’d been away from home.

  Arms suddenly engulfed him and he, his mother, his brother cried together for all that had been lost, and for all that hopefully would be rekindled.

  When Lorie arrived with her husband and three kids, it was to the sight of them in the kitchen heating up leftovers and laughing in a way that she hadn’t seen in many years.

  ***

  The next morning, the family gathered and went out for breakfast. It felt like Christmas, when his older siblings would come and stay over on Christmas eve and then they’d get up early on Christmas day and go out for breakfast.

  Lorie kept staring at him over her plate of pancakes. “Troy, I can’t get over how good you look.” He blushed.

  “Thanks, Lorie. You don’t look so bad, either.” For a mother of three she looked better then okay. She was in her forties but time had been good to her. She was blond, petite, and had the look of California Beach Babe. He didn’t think her tan or blonde hair was natural, but not many people would know this.

  Bob had packed on some weight and he looked like a big, tired, lumberjack. His brown hair was cut short, almost in a military cut and Troy figured it hid the fact that he was balding on top. He was tall; well over six feet and had steel grey eyes, yet there was a look about him that clearly showed that he was jovial and an honestly nice guy. Bob’s wife was a petite, dark haired woman who watched him curiously, perhaps trying to connect him to the selfish bastard that she’d likely heard about from her husband. Then there were the two and four year olds, and Lorie’s three who watched him shyly, all except for Lorie’s oldest who looked at him as if he was the cherry on top of an ice cream sunday.

  Fourteen year old Jordan remembered him and kept vying for his attention by saying things like, ‘Look, Uncle Troy’, ‘Guess what, Uncle Troy?!’, ‘Want to hear a joke, Uncle Troy?’ until Troy was chuckling merrily at his new name; Uncle Troy.

  “So, what have you been up to all of these years?” Bob had broached the topic that no one had yet brought up. They had waited patiently for Troy to explain the events of his disappearance and he seemed to have no interest in doing so on his own.

  He picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth, more as an excuse to stall than anything else. How did he tell his family that he’d been pretty much homeless since running away?

  “Well, for a while I didn’t do very well.” He cleared his throat and glanced at the kids, not wanting to go into details, especially in front of Lorie’s eldest as the young girl seemed to hang onto his every word. Also, his disappearance had hurt his family. He didn’t need to add to that pain with too much detail.

  “What do you do for a living?” Lorie asked and then blushed as if she had no right to the information.

  He smiled in response. “It’s h-hard for me to hold a n-normal job.” Everyone put together the meaning of that and nodded in understand or looked elsewhere. He was unemployed. Troy cleared his throat. It was a true fact and he had come to terms with it. There were just certain jobs that was impossible for him to do. Once he’d gotten a call from a temporary service wanting him to drive a forklift. ‘Ma’ame I have seizures. I can’t operate heavy machinery.’ And she had responded by saying that no one would get hurt since it was inside the building. And Troy’s response had been; ‘When I black out behind the wheel of a one ton vehicle, do you want to be walking on the floor?’

  “I’ve done several different jobs, over the years, from fast food, to telemarketing. But currently, I’ve been looking into opening up a business with my girlfriend.”

  Bob gave him a happy look. “So you’re involved. That’s good to hear.” Lorie’s daughter didn’t seem to think so. Her pretty face turned down into a pout and she stabbed at her sausage angrily. “Tell us about her.” Bob continued.

  Troy’s brow creased again. How did he explain Juicy to someone who had never met her? Well he guessed that he started by telling them about all of the qualities that he loved in her.

  “She’s really pretty, but she doesn’t completely know it. She’s funny too, but again, I know she doesn’t try to be. You can look at her and see that something bad has happened to her--in her past. She puts on a tough outer shell; but I can see past it. She reminds me of a hurt kitten; her teeth might bite and her claws might scratch, but they can’t hurt you because you know she’s more hurt and scared than anything else.”

  He paused, and looked at everyone. They were intent on his words. “She’s got no children, and she’s older than me; thirty-one, but she doesn’t judge me because of my life on the streets, or because I still get nervous about things. When she found out about my illness she took the time to learn about me, as much as about the stuttering and the tics and the seizures.” Juicy is the
first person that ever saw him and damn but he missed her.