"Well don't you think maybe I want more than a cramped up drywall apartment in Englewood!?!?"
I remember that night like it was yesterday.
The headphones over my ears did nothing to block the shouting downstairs. Their voices carried straight through the walls like they always did.
I lay back on my bed and stared at the band posters on my wall. Some of them were peeling off at the corners. Others were wrinkled where the tape had stopped holding.
"This is all we FUCKING have, Sheila! You don't just get to fucking—..fucking walk away from this shit like it's a choice!!"
I never even listened to the bands.
I just liked how the room looked with them there.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going???" my dad yelled.
His words dragged together. I could tell he was drunk again.
"Away from all of this. Away from you," my mom snapped back. "I don't deserve this shit."
"And what about your son, huh!?!? What do you want me to tell him?"
There was a pause.
