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When I Knew I Couldn’t Live At Home

When I Knew I Couldn’t Live At Home

Fresh off of graduation from BC it was time to move back home, naturally. I had a job lined up in New York City (where I currently work) and planned to commute from home for a bit to save some money. Well, the first night back didn’t go over so smoothly.

Let’s set the stage. When I got home I essentially just dropped all my boxes in the hallway of our garage door entrance. When my parents asked if I wanted to go to dinner I told them I couldn’t because I had plans to go out with my friend, Gabe. They were less than thrilled that their house was acting as a storage facility AND the fact that I was planning to hang out with my friend Gabe- they despise Gabe. No way to treat your parents, but I was young and naïve a year ago. Now? Infinitely more mature.

A fifth of New Amsterdam later and I find myself in a cab to this bar where we proceeded to drink rum and cokes and dance through the night. Blacked out and woke up in my bed thinking the night had went on without a hitch. Welp, that lasted about 4 seconds from when I opened my eyes.

“Who the FUCK are you?!” echoed through the house from our family living room. If you guessed it was my mom that was so curious, you’re very right. I sprinted down the stairs to a scene that was less than ideal. In the living room sat my mom and younger brother watching Netflix and next to them stood a rather attractive young (?) woman dressed in clubby/going out attire. And then there was me; bloodshot eyes, reeking of booze and cigarettes with my hands on my knees in just underwear.

“Joseph, do you know who this young lady is?” I looked directly at my mother, then the girl, then my mother and had to tell the truth. “Honestly, Mom, I don’t- I have never seen her in my life.” Which drew a swift, “Are you fucking kidding me?” I responded the only way I knew how, apologizing repeatedly to my mother while carrying on a conversation as if this woman wasn’t standing in my house.

After said apologies were complete, my mother kicked me out of the house, told me to get the girl a cab home and then leave for the day.

We’re sitting outside waiting for her cab and she asked me if I remembered anything from the night prior. I had to admit I did not and I asked her name, it was May. She was quite nice for someone must have felt so embarrassed. She proceeded to tell me that I said I OWNED a home in Westchester where I was from and the family that lived there prior was in the process of moving out so I had to live in the basement. What the fuck was I thinking?

It gets better, she tells me that she was skeptical at first (then why come all the way from NYC to my place) but she knew that I was lying when we walked in through my front door to be greeted by the obnoxious portrait of me and my two younger brothers. God, I’m smooth. So, I sent May on her merry way and went over to my friend’s house for the day.

I had to beg my mom and brother not to tell my dad because I think he would have kicked my ass if he found out. Thank god my mom is real as fuck and didn’t snitch. She forever holds this over my head and I do not blame her.

I now live in a one bedroom apartment flexed into a three bedroom.

Mom, if you’re reading this, I love you. May, if you’re reading this, the dinner offer I sent around this time last year still stands.

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