House of Pain

I recently downloaded Faster Pussycat’s song “House of Pain.” I own the Monster Ballads CD so it was a legal download, just didn’t have the .wav file. “No there’s no one home, in my house of pain.” I have a house of pain. I live in one.

It started when I went to college. Everything was great in high school. When I graduated my family went to Orlando with the family of one of my grade school/high school friend’s family. We stayed on one of the Disney resorts. My friend and I thought it was so cool that we could charge food using our room keys. Double cheeseburgers, ice cream. I gained 10 pounds that week.

My second year in college I met a girl at Summerfest. I stayed at her place a lot over the three years we dated/feuded.

That’s about the time my parents stopped talking and I should have invested in Post-it Notes. That was their mode of communication.

That’s also the time I started drinking.

With turmoil on the home front I stayed out as much as possible. I got a job at a bar on the east side working the door one night a week. I found every bar that was in drunk driving distance from my parent’s house. I still managed to get pulled over three times. After doing six months of work release jail and numerous surgeries due to a rollover accident I finally came to my senses - to a point. I stopped going out if I didn’t have a ride. Later in life I bought a house a block away from my favorite bar. Unlike all these people defaulting on their mortgages I actually pay extra every month.

I’m still putting off ACL surgery due to that accident.

Then one Saturday my dad called me. “I just wanted to tell you that I moved out.”

It wasn’t a big deal at the time. I knew my parents weren’t getting along.

A year later the devastating consequences have set in.

Dad moved out while Mom was at work. She didn’t see it coming. Dad moved out with some other woman. I didn’t find that out till two months after he moved out.

Mom was torn apart. Mom still is torn apart.

After I moved out at the ripe age of 28 I used to go over to their house every night for dinner. My sister was still in high school so she was always home and we’d eat dinner together. Life was good.

Then the phone call.

My dad and I were close, closer than my mom and I were. But now that Dad moved out I don’t talk to him much. When I go “home” only Mom is there. The house is up for sale but not selling. When the house sells Mom doesn’t know what she’s going to do. When the house sells I will no longer have a house that I can say I grew up in.

My dad and I spent a week building the deck on the back of my house in 98 degree heat. That’s a lot of time sweating, bonding. Three years ago and I rarely talk to my dad now.

When my dad moved out I didn’t think much of it. Things weren’t going well between my parents. But now, over a year later, I’m still having troubles coming to grip with the situation.

My mom’s a wreck.

I haven’t seen the dogs I grew up with in over a year. Dad took them when he moved out. I don’t want to go to his new place, basically approving of his moving out with a new lady.

Dad called this week. I hadn’t talked to him in over six months. He invited me over for Thanksgiving. As much as I wanted to see him I didn’t want to see him with the other woman. At her house. As much as I wanted to see the dogs I couldn’t bring myself to go over there. Instead I sat at home and had a frozen pizza. Happy fucking Thanksgiving.

I got a text from my sister. “Why won’t you go over to Dad’s for Thanksgiving?”

I didn’t reply.

Maybe some day things will change.

Till then I’ll continue to have 15 beers a night.

Dulling the house of pain.