Charles Shepard had hit his breaking point. He had failed three assignments that week, earned detentions for the next two Saturdays and his switchblade was confiscated. Tim hadn’t spoken to him in a week and Angela was always at a friend’s house. This wasn’t abnormal but the second oldest Shepard thrived off attention and validation, even though he rarely got it. He just wanted to be reminded that he mattered.
His brother and sister were watching something on tv when Curly dragged himself into the house. He didn’t mean to, but the door slammed behind him as he walked through the small house. Something in his mind clicked and he was like a loaded gun, just waiting to go off. He threw his backpack on the ground, somewhat near his bedroom door and he went into the kitchen to get something to eat. Food, he thought. Food is good. Carbohydrates always calmed him down so he wouldn’t explode on his siblings. They didn’t feel things they way he did, if they felt anything at all.
He fumbled to make himself a sandwich, making a mess of mayonnaise and bread crumbs on the kitchen corner. He tried wiping it away with the corner of his black t-shirt but it only smeared more. “Goddamn it!” He shouted as he threw his sandwich into the sink. “Fuck!” He hoped it would relieve some stress but it only made him angrier.
“Curly, what’s wrong?” Angela’s sweet voice was coming from the other room, concerned and a little scared. She’d seen girls fight and boys nearly kill each other but her brother’s episodes always threw her off guard. She didn’t know what to do or how to help but she knew she wanted to do something.
“Leave me alone.” His words were like venom as he shoved the clean dishes into the cupboards. The bigger the mess, the more chaotic it was in Curly’s mind. He couldn’t think clearly, as if his brain was burning all the information stored inside.
“Curly,” Angela was speaking softly as she tried approaching her brother. “What’s going on?”
“I said leave me alone!” He screamed and threw a pan down on the ground.
Dallas Winston and Two-Bit Mathews were walking up to the Shepard porch when they heard some things crash inside. Dallas had pissed off one of the Brumly Boys and needed some help. Even though Dallas deserved the ass kicking, he was going to ask for some back up from Tim and Curly. “Maybe we should come back,” Two-Bit cracked a smile. The Shepards were fighting, how usual.
“Nah, I need ‘em. Butch will kill me if I don’t have any backup.” Dallas went ahead and knocked on the door. There was an exasperated snappy comment made by the youngest son as Tim opened the door.
“What do you want?” Tim was frustrated with Curly’s outburst and didn’t have time for Dally’s shit.
“The fuck he’s doing here? Is he more important than your own fucking brother?” Curly yelled and Tim turned his head to say something in Albanian. Two just figured he told him to shut up because Curly exploded again.
Dallas changed his mind. “Can I speak to the kid?”
“Why?” Tim gave him a look.
“Just let me talk to him.” Dallas and Tim were both tired from the fight the night before, but they were friends and friends help each other out.
Curly walked out onto the porch and Dallas and him started walking. “What do you want?”
Dallas motioned for Two-Bit to ask Tim for help, even in the midst of the chaos. “We’re going to Buck’s.”
“Why why why. What are you, a toddler?” Dallas snapped. They walked in silence along the road, kicking pebbles out of the way. When they got to the old bar, they walked around to the back.
“What are we doing?” Curly asked and Dallas shoved the recycling bin into his hands.
“Fucking toddler.” Dallas muttered but Curly shut his mouth. He followed Dallas down the nearby alley. “Take an empty beer bottle. Chuck it. Get your anger out.”
“You’re serious?” Curly looked at, skeptical. Dallas nodded. Curly picked up a bottle, studied it as he gripped it tightly in his hand and with all his strength, slung it at the brick wall. “That felt good,” he smiled at Dallas.
Dallas smiled back, “Damn right, it did. Throw another.” So Curly did. And then he threw another, and another. Dallas joined in on the fun and the two got out all their pent up anger and frustrations on the beer bottles. Glasses littered the ground and the two watched their steps as they left but made no attempt to clean up their mess.
“What was that for?” Curly asked. “Why’d you help me?”
Dallas looked at Curly in the eyes and sighed, hanging his head. He was already being vulnerable by helping Curly with his own coping methods. But how much was too much? “In New York,” Dallas couldn’t believe he was admitting it, but he couldn’t stop himself. “My best friend had a girlfriend who cared for us two like.. I dunno how to describe it. Anyway, she used to come up with different things for me and Rusty-James to help out our anger issues. This was one of them. Real effective, huh?”
“Yeah,” Curly nodded. “But..why?”
“I know what it’s like to feel so violently in a family where everyone is emotionless.” It was all Dallas said while they returned Buck’s recycling bin and walked back to the Shepard house. Dallas waved goodbye to his friends and went back to Buck’s. He grabbed a beer and a bottle of vodka and slumped down on the couch in front of the tv. He turned it on to his favorite channel and tried drinking the memories away, repressing them far into his mind. The vodka burned his throat but Dallas ignored it; anything to get the pain away.
