A Torched Tree In A Dead Forest
Joy Boehm
“Can’t you see he’s killing himself, Isa!” she cried out in anguish, falling to her knees as she wept into her frail hands. “He’s dying and you don’t even seem to care…” She whimpered, unable to stop her tears of anger from slipping down her cheeks.
“Chesca… He’s fine, he only drinks a can a day.” Isa said gently and kneeled in front of her crying sister, gingerly reaching out to rub her shoulder.
“That’s not fucking true and you know it! He needs help, Isa, he’s gonna end up like Uncle Ben if he keeps drinking like that.” She flinched from Isa’s hand, refusing to meet her eyes. Their father was hungover, asleep in his room as they bickered. Chesca couldn’t believe that Isa was allowing this sort of behavior to happen. This was the third day in a row she’d seen him drunk and hungover and Tuesday had barely begun.
“Don’t you dare compare him to Uncle Ben. What happened to Uncle was unfortunate and we couldn’t prevent it. Dad’s nothing like Uncle Ben.” Isa said through gritted teeth and stood up with her arms crossed. “Dad would never let himself get to that point… Never.”
“That’s the problem, Isa, you think there was no hope for Uncle Ben, but if we had actually done something to help him, he would still be alive today. He started just like how Dad is right now, can’t you see that?” At this point, Chesca stood clenching and unclenching her fists, trying to keep her anger at bay.
“No, I don’t see shit! All I see is Dad just trying to give himself time to recover alright? We’re here for a good time, not a long time.”
Chesca’s fist collided with the side of Isa’s face. “What the fuck?! You’re dead.”
The two threw punches left and right, a jab to the gut here, a kick to the shin there. Chesca let out a cry when her hair was tugged harshly, she retaliated by grabbing Isa by the forearms then swiping her feet out from beneath her, causing her to tumble and let go of Chesca's long brown hair. For a minute she just stood there breathing heavily and towering menacingly over Isa. The girl in question also breathing heavily and clutching her ankle. Her eyes were glossy and her eyebrows furrowed in pain. A flash of sympathy crossed Chesca's face as she slowly crouched next to her sister. She carefully reached out to help, but Isa swatted her hand away harshly.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” She screamed and hurriedly stood up, refusing to look Chesca in the eyes as she ignored the pain in her ankle. “I can’t deal with this shit anymore, I’m leaving.” She groped the wall as she stumbled toward her room to pack her bags, Chesca staring after her both confused and angry.
“Well- Fine then! Leave! Like I care! Don’t come crawling back here when you see how hard it is to live out there on your own.” Chesca hollered back at her, the only response she got was a middle finger and the sound of a door slamming. “UGHHH!” Chesca huffed and threw her slipper at the wall in frustration. She paused and began to think back to a conversation she had had with her father.
“Why? What would drive him to… You know… “ Chesca asked her father. He was sitting in his recliner near the fireplace, nearly empty beer bottle in hand as his eyes watched the flames dance across the burning logs.
After a long pause, he replied “Many things can drive someone to kill themselves…” He sighed and downed the rest of his drink in one gulp, his eyes never leaving the flames, studying them. “Familial bonds, or lack thereof… Things that old and experienced people like Ben would only understand. Things your ol’ man can understand.” After that he stood and padded over to the kitchen, then opened the refrigerator door, the glass bottles clinked together. “You want a beer?”
It was then she stood up as she tried to compose herself before knocking on her father’s door. “Dad? I’m coming in, okay?” She turned the knob and slid through the doorway and was met with something she did not expect.
“DAD?!” He stood there in the middle of the room, all furniture and belongings pushed to the walls of the room. He stood in a liquid that smelled strongly like gasoline, and he was pouring the remnants of a canister onto the ground in front of him. He placed it on the ground next to him and dug into his pocket, a pack of matches appearing in his hand upon exiting the pocket. He looked up at his daughter, a small smile danced upon his lips as he lit a single match.
The silence was deafening as the match fell to the floor, then the gasoline caught fire. Finally he mouthed the words ‘I Love You’, and everything blew up in front of her, just like everything else in her life, and all she could see was white.