Noah was playing Call Of Duty on his smartphone. He was lying on the floor in his living room. He heard his dad, Shawn, come into the house. After a long day at the office, Shawn was cursing under his breath. He walked into the kitchen next to the living room. He could hear Noah playing his video game next door, but he wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. He opened the top cabinet above the stove. He reached far back. Behind the serving dishes only used when they had guests over. Tucked away behind a casserole pot, Shawn pulled out his pills. Noah could hear the clanking of dishes and rattling of pills in a bottle. He knew what that meant and ignored it.  He focused on playing. 

 

Shawn swallowed a couple pills and took out his smartphone. He had his post-work ritual of streaming the latest editorials from Fox News. He scrolled through the latest segments from the day. Looking for headlines that drew his attention. He wasn’t in a good mood and was looking for somebody to be angry at. He was looking for the right editorial to rage against. Finally, he found it. He leaned over the kitchen counter and played the video. He was relieved to have the distraction until his pills kicked in. 

 

“Holy Hell,” Shawn whispered after watching the editorial segment for a minute. He continued watching, feeling his rage boil over. “Holy Hell” Shawn then yelled. “What the hell is going on here?”

 

Noah’s shoulders tensed.

 

“Noah,” Shawn yelled. “Noah, get in here. Jesus Christ.”

 

Noah walked to the kitchen, all the while thinking if he had made a mistake. Did he forget to clean something in the kitchen? Did he leave his toys on the floor?

 

“Noah,” Shawn said, his tone more calming and loving. “Come over here, son.” Shawn reached out for Noah.

 

Noah walked over reluctantly, scared of what his father would say or do.

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“Noah, you know this country is going to Hell. This isn’t the America that I grew up in. You need to know that. It’s unrecognizable from when I was growing up. I don’t know what it’s going to be like for you in 5 years. In 10, 20, 30 years, I don’t know. I don’t know what kind of nightmare you’ll be living in. And I just wanted to say… I wanted to tell you… I’m just so… I’m just so sorry, Kid. I’m sorry that you won’t see the great country that I saw when I was your age. I’m just so sorry that…” Shawn trailed off. “I’m just sorry.” 

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