ALL MY LUCKY STARS

Alexander

Painting with Olivia, Jake, and Monica has surprisingly been extremely fun.

Monica and Jake have been arguing about God knows what the whole time, debating about some TV show, while Livvie and I occasionally have our own little conversations. But we mostly like to listen. It was free entertainment that also allowed me to see that Monica and Jake are literally two peas from the same exact pod.

We finished painting around three and had taken many breaks in between. There's paint all over the floors (on the plastic, of course), and a few beer bottles, thanks to Jake. Now we're all collectively sitting on the floor, admiring the hard work we accomplished.

"Thank you for all your help, guys," Olivia says.

"I say we go out for drinks," Monica suggests.

"At three pm?" I ask.

"It's five o'clock somewhere!" Jake shouts.

"I'm pretty sure that's how most alcoholics justify their drinking," I say.

"Nobody likes a party pooper," he replied. I shrugged and gave up. There was no convincing Jake of anything.

"Let me tell Daniel that I'll be later than I thought," Monica says.

"Yeah, because he's your husband, Moni. Did you forget?" Liv says. Then Monica whispers something in her ear, then they both look over at me, and they both start giggling.

We made our way to the closest bar, to which Jake and Monica had their arms intertwined. Liv rolled her eyes at the sight and laughed when I mimicked it with our own arms.

"Thanks for all the help today," she said.

"It was my pleasure."

After drinks, we made our way to Liv's apartment where she and Monica reminisced on their wild college days. Then Jake put on some god-awful club music and asked Monica to "demonstrate" how she was in college. The next thing I know, the three of them are grinding up against each other as if we were in a club and not Liv's living room. I sat and watched because how could I not? Liv was an energy that you wanted around you at all times. She was full of life and I loved watching her be herself.

It was Sunday, and it was Jack's turn at the hospital with dad. I was meeting him later to switch off shifts. I had called out of work for the next few days so I could really be with my dad and also help Amy out around the house.

Monica had finally left, and Jake was sleeping off his inebriation on the couch. I insisted on taking him home, but Olivia said she didn't mind. "Your friends are my friends now," she said.

It was so hard to leave Olivia's that night. How could you leave the person you wanted to spend every single second with? But I made a promise to Amy and Jack that I would help out.

I took the subway over to our house in Queens, and upon walking in I noticed the place was a fucking mess. "Jesus," I muttered. Jack was still at the hospital, and I didn't have to be there for another thirty minutes. I cleaned up most of what I could, which was mostly all of my dad's junk scattered everywhere since he had been asking for us to bring him stuff. The box of photos was on the floor, which was all of us, him and my mom on their wedding day, and every photo of her that he had.

I sat on the floor, shuffling through them all. A picture of my mom, Amy, Jack, and me at my very first soccer game. Jack was still a baby, and Amy was sticking her tongue out in the photo. Another one of us at Christmas—all of us—in front of our Christmas tree, the same house I'm in right now. Mom used to go all out for Christmas since it was her favorite holiday. Our house was always the most decorated on the block, and the inside was somehow always more magical. Another one from Thanksgiving, when the whole family got together. It was our last picture with all of us. I was fourteen.

I missed her. I missed her so much.

I put the photos in a bag and made my way to the hospital. When I got there, Jack was asleep and my dad was watching the sports channel. I had to laugh because that was just such a funny sight.

"Hey," I whispered, walking in.

"Hey kiddo," my dad said. "Glad to see you."

"Same here," I pointed to Jack. "Is he for real?"

"Guess taking care of me is a tiring sport," my dad joked. I nudged Jack's shoulder and he jolted awake.

"I'm here. Go home, get some rest." He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"I got to work early in the morning," he said. He worked as a programmer. A numbers guy just like me.

"So go, I'll be fine here," my dad chimed in. Jack gathered his things and left. My dad and I didn't talk much. He was interested in his sports game, and I brought my laptop to do some work from home.

"Oh, I almost forgot." I reached inside the bag and handed the pictures to my dad. "I figured you'd want these around."

He just nodded up and down, a frown appearing on his face. "Thanks, kiddo," he said.

I felt like maybe this time would be different. He hasn't asked for a drink, hasn't muttered a curse word, and hasn't yelled at any of us. I felt like I was finally getting along with my father. Something I had wished for all my life.

I'm just sad it took this for it to finally happen. But I was glad it was happening.