I thankfully woke up still a little drunk, instead of hungover.  Sober up or continue the buzz? I asked myself as I rolled out of bed.  I’ll let the day decide!

Tasting the familiar tang of stale booze in my mouth, it was obvious I didn’t brush my teeth before crashing last night.  Time to remedy that, I thought, as I walked out of my bedroom and down the hallway.

After taking my wakeup piss, I leaned over the bathroom sink and looked at my reflection in the mirror to survey the damage.  My goatee and long sideburns were now in a shallow sea of stubble.  Acceptable, I judged.  I’ll shave later.  My brown eyes were slightly bloodshot.  Normal.  My hair was a disaster.  Normally groomed into a pompadour, the front looked like a wooly brown turd, pinched off at the right.  Douse my hair and style it?  Nah, I’ll baseball cap it for now, and deal with it proper when I take a shower later.

After brushing my teeth, rubbing on some deodorant, slapping on jeans and a Generics concert tee, shoving my flask in my sock, grabbing my phone (which I was surprised and grateful that I had the presence of mind last night to plug into its charger before passing out) and donning the all-important hat, I was ready to face the ‘rents.

As usual, Dad was in his recliner in the living room watching TV, while Mom was busy in the kitchen.  “Good morning, Durant,” she greeted.

“‘Morning, Mom,” I said, as I made my way to the fridge to grab some orange juice.

“I just made some breakfast for your dad and me,” she said, gesturing to the strips of bacon sitting on the paper towel-lined plate.  “I can cook you some eggs.”

The thought of eggs made me slightly nauseous.  “No thanks, Mom.”  Even though the OJ tasted sour from my just brushed teeth, I guzzled down an entire glass and poured another.

“You’re too skinny, Durant.  You need to eat more.”

Mom was right: I was, by far, the skinniest in the family.

On the opposite end of our family’s weight spectrum was Dad.  While some men drank, smoked, or gambled, my dad’s addiction was eating.  When Mom would ask how a business trip went, he’d list the Michelin-starred restaurants he dined at and describe each decadent meal in lavish detail.  And his light features—a blond crewcut, light blue eyes, and pale complexion—made him look bigger still.  (I’d often describe my dad was the whitest person I knew.  Vic once joked, “He’s so white, he’s pink!”)  Alarmingly, the stress of financing my older brother’s law degree at the University of Southern California had fueled his addiction, adding to his weight.  He was now the most rotund I’d ever seen him.

My brother, David (“Don’t call me Dave”), was definitely his father’s son: same blue eyes, fair skin, but with dirtier blond hair.  Though he was easily the second largest in our family, he was not fat like Dad.  He sported a sturdy build, which served him well when he played center and defensive end in high school.  Yet it was not hard to imagine his stockiness bloating into Dad-like obesity in 20 years’ time.

While Mom was the shortest of all of us, I suspected I still weighed less than her.  Though she was petite, she had an ample bust and curvy hips.  (I punched Vic in the arm whenever he referred to her as a “MILF”.)  While David was built from my dad’s mold, I most resembled Mom: we shared the same thick brown hair and dark eyes.

And then there was skinny, dark featured me.  (Vic relished calling me “ethnic”, though my family was as white as they came.)  I was so slim because I hardly ever ate.  Not because I was on a diet or anything.  When I woke, I was usually too nauseous from my hangover to eat.  When I began feeling better in the late afternoon, I’d begin drinking again, the empty calories killing my appetite.  Hence, my only food would inevitably be the greasy hamburgers or tacos I’d grab on the way home from the bars after last call.

“So what did you do last night?” my mom asked.

“The usual: Hung out with Vic,” I volunteered, as I nibbled on some bacon.  What I didn’t volunteer was that after I got bored hanging around Vic’s Synned ass (and more importantly, after I drained my flask), I left him and went barhopping.  I vaguely remembered returning to Pepper’s to check up on him on my way home, but he wasn’t there.  In a jolt, I checked my phone.  I had sent him five texts last night.  He didn’t respond to a single one.  Fucker, I thought as I slipped my phone back in my pocket.

“I hope you and Vic aren’t experimenting with that Syn drug,” said my mom, as if she was reading my mind.  “Please promise me you’ll never take it.”

Before I could come up with a comforting answer, my dad barked from the living room, “How’s the job search going?”

“No one’s hiring during Memorial Day weekend.  I’ll hit it once the three-day is over.”

I heard him grunt his disgust.

My last job was floor man and occasional cashier at French’s Electronics.  But they fired me a month ago for taking too many sick days.  (I really wasn’t lying all the times I called in sick.  I was truly physically ill, throwing up from drinking too much the night before.)  Since then, I’d been casually looking for another gig while collecting unemployment.

But besides the occasional snide inquiry, my dad didn’t push me to get a job.  And though he made it obvious he’d prefer I move out, he didn’t push me on that front either.  He never pushed me to do anything.

But he pushed David to play football in high school like his old man.  He pushed David to go to college.  And he pushed David to go to law school.

In short, my father never hid the fact that he loved David more than me.

“That reminds me,” said Mom.  “David will be spending the three-day weekend with us.  He should get here sometime this afternoon.  So I’m making a big steak dinner for all of us.  So please be here around five.”

So the favored brother returns.  The day has indeed decided for me.  Getting drunk it is!  “OK, Mom,” I assured her, as I kissed her on the cheek, before heading out.

“God damn it!  ESPN’s off the air!” was the last thing I heard before I shut the door behind me.

To be continued…

(Or read the story in its entirety in Goddess.)