Page 96 of The Design of Goodbye
“I don’t care how bad you feel.” His grip on Liam’s arm tightened. “We need the money.”
“You need the money,” said Liam, chest rising and falling with suppressed anger. “I never get any of it.”
“That money keeps the lights on so you can see your silly drawings.” Face an angry red, Mr. Strom continued, “I won’t have Gary—or anyone—thinking I raised a worthless, weak sack of shit who can’t work with a silly headache.”
“You didn’t raise me,” said Liam. “And if anyone’s weak, it’s you.”
I heard the sound of the slap before I realized what’d happened.
“Watch your mouth,” growled Mr. Strom.
“Don’t touch me.” Pain flashed across Liam’s face as he wrenched his arm out of his dad’s hold. “I’m not dealing with this shit. I’m leaving.”
“Do not walk away from me.”
Liam froze in the middle of the kitchen.
“Where do you think you’re going?” When he was met with Liam’s silence, he added, “You have nowhere to go. You have no one. You’re alone. You’re stuck here, and that’s how it’s always gonna be.”
Liam looked like he believed every word his dad spat at him.
“I graduate soon,” said Liam, his voice lacking confidence. I hoped Mr. Strom didn’t notice. “I’m gone after.”
Mr. Strom laughed. “You’ll eventually come back here because you’ll havenothing.”
Liam crossed his arms. “Having nothing is better than living here.”
Mr. Strom closed the distance between them. Liam tensed. Mr. Strom noticed, and satisfaction crept onto his face. “I give it a week before you come running back here. Don’t you get it? I’m all you have. I’m all you’lleverhave, and the only person you can blame is yourself.”
Liam didn’t speak.
“Let me make a few things clear,” continued Mr. Strom. “I can do what I want. If I need to knock some sense into you, so be it. The same goes for you doing what I tell you to. If you don’t work tonight, you’ll work nights all next week to make up for it.”
“It’s one shift,” said Liam. “I shouldn’t have to work all week—”
“Would you like me to make that a permanent schedule?”
He stepped closer. Liam stepped back. Mr. Strom snickered.
Anger took over Liam’s fear, and he said, “You barely show up to work anymore. How about you work tonight? Why don’t you work instead of playing cards? You’re too lazy to ever—”
This time, it happened in slow motion: the back of a hand hitting Liam on the side of his face, his glasses flying as he crashed into the kitchen table, his body crumpling to the ground, and the sound of his head slamming onto the kitchen floor.
I stumbled back in shock, and Liam’s coffee fell from my hand, its contents spilling onto the porch.
Mr. Strom nudged Liam with his foot. “Get up!”
Liam didn’t move.
Mr. Strom wasn’t fazed. He’d done this before. He’d done this a lot. This wasnormal.
“Who’s the lazy one now?” He glared at his son. Liam still didn’t move. “I can’t look at you anymore.Get up!”
He kicked Liam hard in the side, like he was trash he wanted to get rid of. Liam groaned, gripped his side, and rolled onto his knees. His hands swept over the tile, searching for his glasses. Disoriented, it took him longer than it should have to locate them, and the whole time, I held my breath, terrified Mr. Strom was going to step on them out of spite.
As soon as Liam had his glasses on, his dad yelled, “Get up!”
Liam stood, immediately swayed, and dropped back onto the floor, holding his head.
