Disequilibrium

Part 1: Freshman Year - Scene 8

Three days later

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height / my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight / for the ends of being and ideal grace.

"What the hell are you drawing?" Dad asks, yelling across the room even though we're not far apart. "You've been sitting there for an hour now. Come watch something with your old man, why don't you?"

Soft rain hits the trailer, making a serene pattering noise to listen to. "I'm busy right now," I say, adding a dark line to Casper's chin. I'm no artist, but it keeps me sane while he's around.

I love thee to the level of everyday's most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.

"We never do anything anymore," Dad continues. "You're either at school, at those geezers' house, or at that goddamn dinner table doing hell knows what. At least show me what you're doing. I want to have a conversation with you."

"You're drunk; that's why you want to have a conversation."

"Shut the hell up," he says, though he takes another sip from the bottle. "Now tell me about that swimming thing. I swear, I thought I was hallucinating when you told me where you went."

"It was...cool," I say with a subtle smile, drawing more unneeded lines here and there. I make sure to add the tiny scar he has right above his left eyebrow, and the faint dimple that forms at the middle of his cheek when he grins.

"Cool, huh? Who did you say invited you again?"

"Casper. He's my new friend."

"Friend," he echoes. "I heard there's this play going on at your school. Maybe us three could go together, you know? A boys night out."

The smile vanishes at the mention of the play. Casper had joined me for lunch today and bragged about how a girl named Haley invited him to see it. I saw her from time to time at the convenience store near David's house; I usually passed to get soda or petty things and she'd always be there, smiling and laughing with her group of mediocre friends. I never really noticed her.

Until now.

I draw another line on Casper's jaw, but it comes out darker than the other. Jagged. "That seems nice and all, but he's going with someone else. Besides, I hate plays."

"Damn." Dad sighs. "I thought you liked them."

I love thee freely, as men strive for right / I love thee purely, as they turn from praise / I love thee with a passion put to use in my old griefs / and with my childhood's—

"Alright, that's it," Dad says, lifting himself from the couch to come my way. I slam the notebook shut and grip it just in case he suddenly snatches it from my hands. "Stand up. We're going out."

"Together?"

"Of course. Jeez, are we that disconnected?"

There's something in his tone that makes me look at him. He's got this pained expression on his face but I can't tell if it's real or a side effect of the booze. Even though I know I should feel something, I can't bring myself to show it. So I just stare back at him without blinking.

Dad's the first to look away. He pulls out the chair across from me and sits down, rubbing his jaw the way he always does when something's bothering him. I still keep a tight grip on my notebook and stare at him, waiting to see if he'll speak or if it's my turn to move.

"You know, if you were to ask me where I'd be when I was your age, it wouldn't be here," he says. "I wanted to be a goddamn doctor, but now I'm in and out of jobs."