Lonely Sons

Paul awoke to the sound of a beer can hitting his door. He swung his
arm over his head to shut off the impending alarm, rendering it
useless thanks to his father's early morning binges. Breakfast
alcoholics are more reliable than the clock he had bought for a dollar
at Mrs. Cafferty's garage sale anyway. Paul was used to waking up to
this way, his father's drinking had grown progressively worse since
his mother's death six years ago. For years it had been just the
three of them, Paul, his older brother Ricky and their father. But
Ricky had recently graduated from high school and spent most of his
days either at the beach with his friends or working down at the gas
station, where he spent most of his time smoking pot in the bathroom
the was off limits to customers. So it was mostly Paul and the old
man, competing for space in the cramped 3-room apartment that they
rented over Maria's Pizza. After his mom had died, Dad had sold the
house, claiming that men needed less space. Within a month, Paul had
lost his mother and his room. He missed the smell of both.


The old man hadn't worked in over three years, thanks to a condition
known as "his goddamn back" and his habit of showing up on the job
completely tanked. When Paul was younger, he regarded his father as a
mystery.