Seaside Shore

There are only three parts of the story I remember: when he left, when the police came, and when we went to Seaside. For the past year my padre and madre had been fighting because my uncle had been staying at the house doing illegal things that my ma didn’t approve of. My pa was loyal to my uncle because he was family but he also wanted to please my ma. My ma was loyal to the house and me because she didn’t want this happening in her house and she didn’t want me exposed to it. The smell of booze and skunk kept creeping out of my uncle’s room and my ma finally had it. She yelled and yelled and sent me to a friend’s house so when the police came to talk to my pa who smelled of booze also I wouldn’t be there to witness it. When I came back from school the next day my uncle had moved out and eventually the house started to smell like Asian stir-fry and banana bread again.

Before my parde left the big light on the ceiling fan of his room woke me up. He had already showered so the warm smell of the Irish soap traveled to my nose. He had shaved his beard completely off and the top of his head looked like he was going into the army. I followed him when he went outside and just watched. The tile floor was cool on my feet while the morning sun felt warm and I just watched. He went to our yellow shed and got out a vacuum and some clothes he had had in the shed for some reason and threw them into the trunk of the neon orange car that we had painted together. Once he closed it he wiped his hands together like he was wiping the dust off and came over to the door. He hugged me and told me all these things about seeing me later in high school but probably after college. I went back in to my ma’s room where I sat on the bed in the cool aqua colored sheets and stared at the morning sunlight through the blinds and cried.

My ma decided that saying in Tucson wasn’t the best idea for me so to get away she sent me to my aunt’s house in New Jersey. I only stayed there for a few weeks when my aunt had a serious talk with me and said that we couldn’t just leave my ma alone at home. So we booked the next flight available and flew back. I had always wondered why it had taken that long for my aunt to realize that we couldn’t leave my ma there alone but I think that my ma had slipped in a few words to my aunt on the phone the night before. When we arrived in Phoenix it was another warm morning. My ma was there to pick us up and we drove south. The car was very cool feeling in contrast to outside which I thought was strange because it was very warm for the morning. We arrived home and put our luggage away then my ma and aunt started to talk some more. Not soon after a policeman rung our doorbell. He asked to come in and my ma talked to him in the living room with my aunt. When my ma came in my aunt was holding her up and both were sobbing. I knew what had happened even though no one had told me anything yet. I think that the three of us cried enough to fill a bathtub for each of us to bathe in. Once I had stopped crying I left to my room. I don’t remember when the policeman left and I don’t remember what happened after I went to my room. After that day though I did know that my pa was found from the glint of the orange car in the middle of the desert.

We decided to have a memorial because my pa was cremated since my ma was Asian and it was custom to cremate. After I went with a friend and her family to some trashy restaurant. The place was dark and dingy. The colors of the inside were ugly dark greens and blues. I didn’t eat much.

A few days after the memorial my ma, aunt, and I flew back to Jersey. It’s tradition when in Jersey to always go out to eat late and get disco frys since they aren’t served in the Midwest. This tradition started because of this night. We went to a trashy diner and ordered cheese frys covered in gravy. The place was very flashy with gold and white and black accents everywhere. It looked like Elvis had walked in and his white suit and gold rim glasses had decided to eat the walls. After we left my aunt drove us to Seaside where the tent city of the east coast resided. My ma and I walked along the beach for a while. It was very dark and the moon was only half but since we were away from the city the stars looked brighter then usual. She sat me down on a bench and told me that my pa’s death wasn’t just death but that he committed suicide. This followed with more crying and then we walked back to my aunt. Before we left the shore I stood in the water with my jeans rolled up and my shoes back with my ma and just watched the sky hit the sea while the waves washed back and forth up onto my feet