My Love, My Drug, My Release

Boxing Day Morning, 1968

When I woke up, there was a spot of drool on my pillow. And my brother was passed out on my floor.

"Jack, Jack, what the hell are you doing?" I snapped, startling him out of his sleep.

He rolled over, hair sticking up every with way, a crease down the side of his face from one of his sweatshirts he'd used as a pillow. "Sorry, I hope I didn't scare you, but I couldn't sleep in my room last night. I could hear Paul and Linda fucking clear through the wall."

I scrunched up my nose at the crass statement, and climbed out of bed, checking to make sure the buttons on my flannel shirt were done correctly. Linda had bought us all special PJs for Boxing Day, and I wasn't comfortable wearing them in the slightest. I preferred a big t-shirt and shorts, even in the winter; I got night sweats. "Okay, well, get up. It's time to pretend to be a happy family."

"All happy families are alike-"

"-but every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." I rolled my eyes at the pretentious Tolstoy quote. "You are a walking cliche, brother."

He chuckled, leaving my room, and I followed him down the stairs. I got a banana to tide me over until Linda came down to make pancakes or whatever she had planned, but Jack had other ideas.

"Really? You're gonna have vodka this early in the morning."

"It's called an Anna Karenina." He put what amounted to three or four shots into a tall glass, then filled the rest with chocolate milk. 

"It looks vile," I said in response to the drink. "Who invented it?"

"I did." He smirked at me shamelessly, stirring the mixture with a long spoon. "For when your family such absolute dogshit, that everything you put in your body is delicious by comparison, so you might as well get drunk." After chugging a third of it, he offered the glass to me. "To happy families."

After peeking up the stairs to make sure neither of our guardians was on their way to bust us, I hesitantly accepted the drink. It smelled like saccharine and bleach, so I pinched my nose like a child would when swallowing cough syrup before taking two big gulps, which made Jackson double over with laughter.

When he finally collected himself, he took back his spiked chocolate milk and took another few sips. "Good luck," he said, "To the both of us."

The lovebirds didn't get out of bed until almost noon, and we'd shared another two Anna Kareninas by then. I made sure to drink my fill, if only to keep Jackson from getting too pissed, and ended up quite tipsy myself. I just prayed that my brother wouldn't humiliate us in front of Paul.

"Morning darlings," Linda said as she slinked downstairs, wearing a bright turquoise, silk bathrobe with printed butterflies covering it. I couldn't be sure if there was anything under it.

"Where are your PJs?" I asked smarmily.

"Oh shit," she said, putting a hand to her forehead. "I'm so sorry my dear, I wanted to wear them, but- well they got a bit ruined."

When her back was turned, Jack made a 'gag me' gesture, and I could barely contain my giggles. Seeing that his first joke had succeeded, he pointed at the back of Linda's head, and, upon closer inspection, I realized there was a big, nasty hickey on the side of her neck. 

"Don't it look like a leech bite?" he whispered in my ear, his breath shaky and hot from the alcohol. 

 I nodded, which only encouraged him more. He made his hand into a pinched shape, twisted it in the air a few times, before jabbing it into his own neck, pantomiming a biting leech. He was so vigorous in his jest, that I couldn't stop a squealing laugh from escaping my mouth.

"What are you two looking so happy about?" Paul had joined us in the kitchen while I wasn't paying attention, wearing his flannels, but with the shirt entirely unbuttoned.

"Nothing," I mumbled, trying to avoid staring at his bare chest.

"What do you two want for breakfast?" Linda asked without looking over her shoulder.

"Breakfast?" Jack said incredulously. "It's midday!"

"Well, you should've come and woken us up if you were so hungry," our step-mother replied, getting out some eggs from the fridge.

My brother got up from his seat, swaying from one side to the other due to the amount of vodka he'd consumed. "Alright, next time you two are late for breakfast, I'll walk right into your room and pull the covers up and demand you come down, what a splendid idea, thank you for the suggestion."

"Hey, you don't talk to your mum like that," Paul snapped. I could've sworn my heart stopped beating in my chest. As rude as Jackson had been for weeks, months even, this was the first time Paul had done more than glare at him or look pointedly at Linda. And Jackson wasn't too happy about it.

"She's not my mum." My brother got up close to Paul, close enough that I was worried someone would take a swing. "And you sure as hell aren't my father."

Then, before anyone could do anything, he was stumbling into the foyer. Even though I was glued to my seat with sheer horror, I could clearly hear him pulling on his clunky boots, and shove on a winter coat. I had no idea where the fuck he thought he was going in the 5-degree weather with winds strong enough to knock a child over, and the sky looking like rain come this afternoon, but one thing was sure: with the heavy slam of the door, and the settling of the house, he was gone.

There's going to be another Boxing Day Chapter, but it will be another split chapter (by that, I mean there will be an end, a blank space, and then another section) and I thought it would be too many distinct parts for one chapter. You guys know how I am by now. I'm really proud of how this part turned out; I feel like it's pretty well-written and accomplishes a lot in a thousand words. I don't know, I'm just kind of digging the juxtaposition of this lot of chapters. Thanks for reading, hope you liked it!