The Fight Within (9 page)

“N
o Mom, it’s
business development and marketing,” Sean stated as he sat in the living room amid an endless collection of colorful International cuckoo clocks that threatened to all chime at the same exact time and scare him half to death. He was camped out in his parents’ home in Queens, Sunnyside, and being home with the ‘old people’ always made him feel a bit more grounded.

“Yeah?” she said in a jovial tone, her face full of surprise as if he’d not declared it to her a million times before.

“Yeah, I’m almost done, too.” He relaxed back in the over-stuffed navy blue chair with snow-white doilies on the arms. “Got like a little over six months to go.” He glanced lazily around his parents’ home that they’d moved into ten years earlier, then turned his attention back toward the television.

“And what are you gonna do with a Business Development Marketing degree, pretty boy?” his older brother by one year chided as he slumped on the couch, gripping a condensation covered can of Miller-lite beer. He gripped the metal tab with two fingers and pulled it back, then brought the can to his tooted lips while simultaneously eyeballing him from the side.

“Ball it up tight and shove it up your ass, Colin, that’s what I’m gonna do with it.” Sean grinned as he got up and joined the bastard on the couch.

“Sean, don’t use that sorta talk in front of your mother,” his father barked from the small kitchen area, hidden from everyone’s eyes and no doubt fixing himself a large plate of leftovers, without offering a single bite to another living soul.

“Sean, you
really
should eat something,” his mother offered. She sat right across from them in her oversized tangerine and yellow floral housecoat, seemingly reading his mind. “If you ask me,” she looked at the two of them from over her thin-rimmed, shiny green glasses, “you’re lookin’ a bit on the thinner side these days.”

“Thinner side?! Mom, are you losin’ your mind?” His brother flicked his thumb in Sean’s direction as if trying to hitch a ride. “This big bastard right here?! I got some bad news for ya, Mom. Your youngest son here is on some damn steroids.” He hooted. “Sean is a muscle head that eats steroids for breakfast, lunch and dinner!”

“Star-roids?!” She reared back in her seat, her thin lips parted, utter disbelief imprinted on her face. Running her small fingers over the tiny, sparkly white buttons of her gown, she leaned forward and molded her tone around a hushed whisper…as if their home was bugged from the C.I.A. “Aren’t those illegal? You don’t take star-roids do ya, Sean? They’re bad for you, you know!”

“Stair-roids, Kathy?! They’re called steroids, for goodness sake!” their father called out from the kitchen, this time sounding as if his mouth was stuffed with everything he could find inside the jam-packed refrigerator.

“Ma, I don’t take steroids, and for douchebag here’s information, I am getting this degree so that I can be a construction company consultant or on-site contractor. Ya see, different companies would hire me to help them grow their business or I could even be hired by one company, and just assist solely with their marketing needs. I used to work construction jobs part time, remember? It’s a much needed, highly sought after field right now, and I can go to all sorts of places around New York, helping some of these construction firms better market themselves.”

“So it’s like sales?” His mother winced as if sunlight were suddenly in her green eyes as she picked up her glass of iced tea from the rusty iron TV tray. The thing depicted a bottle of classic Coca Cola being held by a smiling white polar bear.

“Well, kinda, yeah, but it is about helping them get new clients by putting themselves out there more, ya know? I’d be constantly studying the market and trends in various areas, not just New York, but globally. I’d give them advice on how to promote themselves, hooking them up with advertising firms, social media press, email lists, things like that.”

“You’d be good at that… ‘cause you’re good at bullshittin’.” Colin burst out laughing, causing Sean to lunge at him with both fists. The two tumbled to and fro, the play wrestling match making a mess of the woolen pillows embroidered with inspirational words such as ‘
Happiness
’. They kept on knocking each other about like pins in a bowling alley.

“No cussin’ in front of your mother!” their father hollered out once again, this time it sounding as if his throat were full of thick phlegm.

“Well, that sounds real good, Sean. I’m proud of you,” she stated sincerely, her slight chin bobbing against her chest as she nodded in approval. He slowed a bit and released Colin from his carefully crafted headlock.

“Thanks, Ma.”

“Don’t you have another kickboxing match coming up?” his brother inquired, running a hand along his reddened neck and swiping wayward blond strands away from his face.

“Yeah,” Sean reached over the glossy ashtray full of crinkled cigarette butts left from his father earlier in the day, and gripped his can of beer. He took a hearty swig then set it back down after smacking his lips a time or two. “I haven’t had much time to train lately though…been so busy with work, and everything.”

“You dating anyone, Sean?” his mother asked. Her sparkling eyes glistened and looked so much like his own. She looked so full of hope and promise, as if twinkling pink angel wings flapped in the irises while glittery fairy dust fell from her dark brown lashes and coated the world in golden kisses.

“Not right now, Ma,” he said under his breath, loathing the topic that seemed to rule the older woman’s mind from the moment she got up from her frilly, Queen-sized bed and said her morning prayers, until the second she clonked out on a soft, feather down pillow, snoring up a damn storm.

“Sean, Colin’s got uh girlfriend, why don’t you?” she asked sadly, dropping her head a bit as if his relationship status was worthy of a sullen violin music laden scene. “I want grandkids, ya know? With no girlfriend, there is no wife, and no wife means no grandkids. Your dad and I aren’t gettin’ any younger.”

Not this shit again…

“Ma, I hate to break it to you, but Sean is gay.” Colin cackled, causing Sean to push him as hard as he could until the bastard fell off the damn couch, still laughing himself silly despite bumping his big head on the coffee table during his clumsy tumble on the way to the floor.

“Is that true, Sean?” She gasped, as if she’d seen a car crash, and covered her quivering lips with both hands, as if to stifle a scream. “I still love ya, son!” Her eyes watered, like she had the starring role in some damn soap opera.

Is she for real?! Of course she is…that’s Mom for ya!

“Ahhhh Jesus Christ, Ma!” Sean rolled his eyes. “Do you believe everything Colin says? No, I’m
not
gay. If I were, you’d have known it by now with all this grandkid business you’re always bringing up!”

“Guys that take steroids aren’t gay, Kathy,” his father shouted from the kitchen once more, as if this was common knowledge—something stated in the books authored by clever, distinguished scholars from around the world, ones held in the highest regard.

“I am in the damn loony farm over here!” Sean slapped his knee in disbelief as he glared toward the kitchen. “Dad, I’m
not
on steroids, okay?!” he yelled out, ensuring he was heard, though his father’s acute ears would have picked up on a toothless rat gnawing on cotton candy a mile away. “Ma,
again
, I’m not gay and I don’t have a girlfriend because the women out here are freakin’ bananas. Not to mention, I don’t have time for all of that.”

“That’s good you’re not on those steroids, Sean, because you’d never get a girlfriend,” his father declared, sharing more of his infinite wisdom.

“Why’s that, Kevin?” His mother asked, as if Dad’s word was bond.

“’Cause it makes the man downstairs small! No woman wants to date a guy with a small Johnson!”

…Oh God, Dad…Ya didn’t!

His mother shot a sad yet sympathetic look back at Sean and nodded in agreement. On a murmur, she hunched over, set her glass on the polar bear’s face and folded her hands, as if she were about to deliver grave information, the kind of stuff that made one’s heart stop cold. “It’s true, Sean…if you’re taking those star-roids, it could ruin your chances of becoming a father, too.”

“Ahhh, you’re making me sick!” He burst out laughing as Colin got back up from the floor and made himself comfortable on the couch, sporting a satisfied smirk at Sean’s expense. “Can we not talk about things like this, please? Geesh!” He rolled his eyes and turned back to the television.

“Well, I wish you’d make the time to meet someone, Sean.” She paired her expression with a look of disapproval, along with quiet judgment. “You’re thirty-four years old…getting a bit long in the tooth don’t you think to be caravanning around single. And don’t think I don’t know the truth about you.” She squinted her eyes. “You’re a ladies man, no prospects either.” She plucked her glass from the tray and placed the rim to her bright pink covered lips before turning her attention to the Family Feud. “You won’t have your good looks forever, ya know,” she added for good measure, as if that assertion alone would somehow turn the tide in her favor.

Steve Harvey made his way across the screen, announcing the families prepared to play against one another.

He looks like Mr. Potato Head…kinda like a hound dog, too…

Sean thought to himself.

“I wonder how much game show hosts get paid?” Colin inquired as he leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms, his face twisted in honest inquisition.

“Steve Harvey is a celebrity, man. Probably a helluva lot. It ain’t pennies, that’s for damn sure.”

“I bet I could be a good game show host! How hard can it be?” Light brown brows bunched, his brother pointed to the screen, as if Mr. Harvey had somehow insulted him by his mere presence.

“I dunno.” Sean shrugged and took the final gulp of his can of beer before placing it down and leaning back against a pillow. “It probably is harder than it looks, like a lot of things in life.”

“Oh, so you’re Mr. Philosophy now?” Colin shot him a glance, looking him up and down in a way that suggested he wanted to pick a fight.

“No, but according to you, I’m Mr. Star-roid, I’m a know-it-all, so that makes me an authority of sorts,” he whispered on a smirk.

Colin laughed lightly.

“Hey, if you find any more of those stamps in the trash, you know, the ones with the firecrackers on ‘em, let me know. Lydia’s mom collects ’em.”

“You act like my job is a goddamn consignment shop, a thrift store, a free-for-all, and I place special orders for nunchucks like
you
. It’s garbage, not Federal Express!”

“Bull, you know where the good stuff is!”

“People throw shit out, and that’s that. I can’t go back to the same house, knock on the damn door and say, ‘Hey, the other day you threw out some valuable stamps. That was rather stupid of ya but to make up for your incredible idiocy, can I have some more of ’em?’ Doesn’t work like that and besides, usually I don’t even know what houses the shit I find comes from.”

“I’m just sayin’ if you see anymore is all!” Colin threw up his hands in surrender.

“You probably lied and told her you bought them for her.” Sean’s eyes narrowed on his brother, feeling him out, trying to get the goods.

“…I did.”

They both went silent for a while, then burst out laughing together.

“Shhhhh!” their mother chastised. “Caterpillar! Why didn’t anyone say, caterpillar?!” She yelled at the television. “They got termite up there, fly, moth, and no caterpillar! I bet that’s the number one answer!”

“It’s wasp, Kathy! Or maybe bee. No one is afraid of a caterpillar, Jesus H. Christ!” Mahoney Sr. called out.

“That’s not the question!” she retorted angrily, her drink sloshing violently about in her hand from her rapid, jerky movements in the excitement of it all. “The question is about insects with wings!”

“Kathy, caterpillars don’t have wings, goddamn it!”

“When they turn into a butterfly they do! Wait, that’s it! It’s butterfly!” She waved a frantic finger at the screen. “No one said butterfly!” The woman jumped out of her seat, causing the light green plastic curlers in her head to frantically bounce around as they hung onto her dark tresses for dear life.

“So,” Colin leaned over to Sean and whispered, “Do you think there’s a game show hosts school, like a college people go to? I bet I could do it…take a few classes ’nd such.”

Sean fell back and took a good look at his brother. They resembled one another here and there, and in some ways, it was like looking into a damn mirror. They were often mistaken for fraternal twins, being about the same height of 6’2 and only one year apart, but he always corrected people by letting them know he was the brother that received all the brains and brawn, and well, Colin received the smart-ass gene—how unfortunate for him and the world he was unleashed upon.

“This is the type of shit you sit around thinkin’ about, huh? How did you become a fireman, Colin? The world should be afraid,
very
afraid, that you’re out on the streets!”