much liquor, and too much wine. Whenever he took too many pills or drank too much alcohol there were problems. When he tried not to take too many pills or drink too much alcohol, there were also problems, different problems, but still problems. And Dad's problems hurt everyone in the family.
Gabe remembered some of Dad's problems. He remembered a night when he tried to get Dad to wake up and get out of his chair. At first it was funny.
“Wake up,” Gabe had yelled as loud as he could in Dad's ear. “It's time to go to bed.” But Dad didn't move. He just mumbled something that sounded like “You go. Bed here.” Then he let out a snore and lashed out at Gabe with one floppy arm. Mom came and pulled on that arm while Gabe and Izzy pulled on the other, but Dad just flopped back in the chair, and that's where he stayed all night. Mom said he was passed out. She was so mad! “Leave him there!” she said. She wouldn't even put a blanket on him. But I got him a blanket, Gabe remembered.
Gabe remembered lots of big arguments between Dad and Mom. Sometimes they argued because Dad wanted to go out and Mom didn't want him to. Sometimes they argued about money. Mom said Dad could waste all his money and she couldn't stop him, but she better not catch him with his hands in her purse again—that was her hard-earned money, she'd said.
So many arguments!
Dad had screamed at Mom and Mom had screamed back at Dad. One night, Dad picked up a glass and threw it. It crashed into a thousand splinters against the kitchen wall and left a dent you could still see. And Mom had cried and cried while she cleaned up the mess and the broken glass.
“Please don't cry,” Gabe had told her. “I'll be good.” Saying that made her cry more.
“Oh, honey, it's not you,” she'd said, reaching out to hold his hand. “It's not you.” Gabe didn't know what to say.
“It will be different in the morning,” he said, finally. And it was almost always different in the morning. But of course, it would happen all over again the next day, or the next, or the next. The family didn't know when it would happen again, but it always did happen again.
Even when there wasn't fighting, there were problems. One time Dad stayed in bed for days and days. Mom had to call his work and tell Dad's boss that he was sick.
“Is Dad really sick?” Gabe had asked Mom. “Should we call the doctor?”
Mom had looked at Gabe with red, red eyes. She had been crying. “He's not that kind of sick, honey,” Mom said. “He just needs to rest.” It seemed like Mom was always making excuses for Dad.
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