Worst family vacation ever.

I was loading the tents into the back of the SUV as my wife came out to talk. I didn’t want to have the same conversation we’ve been having over and over again for the last month, so I let the silence linger and continued loading. Packing a vehicle for a long road trip takes a bit of forethought and most people don’t put in the effort. You have to weigh several different factors to do it correctly. The things you might need along the way have to be accessible. You have to plan for the load shifting so that fragile things don’t get crushed. Most importantly everything has to fit. Oh yeah don’t forget anything, speaking of which I’m missing one of the gun cases. Hmm, I know I pulled it out of the safe. Must have left it inside. I continued loading the rest of the supplies.

“Are you really just going to pretend I’m not here Quint?”

“Look we have been arguing over this for weeks. Let’s just agree to disagree. The trip won’t hurt him any and I’m sure he won’t complain about missing school for a couple of weeks. I won’t be able to take the time off work once November rolls around and the Christmas package rush starts.” I took a break from loading and sat on the edge of the vehicle. Deborah sat down next to me.

Not making eye contact with my wife I surveyed the yard. I should probably rake the leaves before I take off. Oh, and call the lawn service to do the winter fertilizer treatment. Truth be told I was just trying to keep my mind off of the problems my wife had brought up with the road trip because of the guilt I felt over it.

“Look I know he’s not excited about going now, but when he gets up to Montana and spends sometime around his cousins, he’ll start to enjoy it. Some of my best memories are of going hunting and fishing with friends and family when I was his age. I just want to share that with him. Right now, the kid is halfway to turning into a houseplant with how much time he spends indoors in front of that damn computer.” The anger I felt towards the situation stemmed from the guilt of working too many weekends and long hours. I had to do it to provide the life I wanted for my family, but starting my own company had sucked up all of my time and energy. Now that everything was coming together, I had the time and money to do what I wanted.

Unfortunately, Billy’s life revolved around weird fantasy board and video games. In his room was an entire bookshelf filled with notebooks the kid obsessively scribbled in with all these bizarre details of make-believe creatures and places. Old and new consoles crowded around the TV in the corner all abandoned for the sprawling computer station. With only one friend in the real world my son communicated with the rest of the world over a microphone and headset.

“He’s not like you are he doesn’t like sports, camping, and hunting. He has his own niche in the world and you have to accept that.”

“He doesn’t even know what he likes, he sequesters himself in that room every moment he’s not in school. He needs to get out and interact with the real world. I get it I have been so busy with work I haven’t had a chance to teach him all the things that my father taught me. Now I have a chance and if he doesn’t like it so be it, he can go back to his cave and become a hermit… but. He is going to go on this trip and see that there is more to life than just a goddamn computer screen!” I yelled as my irritation overtook me.

I apologized after taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to start shouting.”

“Look, I know this is important to you. You can’t expect him to be grateful for what he sees as a disruption. You can’t force him to be excited about the same things as you are and if you get frustrated and angry, you’ll only push him further away. So, take him on your trip but let him experience it in his own way. He may not appreciate it now but he will remember the effort at least, he’ll remember that his father tried. That’s the last I’ll say about it, now let me help you get this packed.” With that Deb and I continued loading the supplies.

Deb went inside to get the cooler with sandwiches and drinks for the road. At 1500 miles I wanted to at least start the trip with real food before we descended into greasy fast-food hell. “Could you grab the gun case for me I must have left it in the den. It’s the small stainless handgun one. Thanks hon.”

A gangly teenager cut across the yard. His unruly mop of blond hair falling into his eyes only to be brushed aside until the process repeated itself. Wearing dirty jeans and faded t-shirt with a picture of Jesus sitting at a table, captioned by ‘Jesus rolls a 20, Jesus saves. I’m sure there is a joke behind it but I didn’t want to waste the effort to understand.

“Hey Billy’s Dad.”

“I have a name Jeff and I’ve asked you to use it when you address me.” My sons only friend left a lot to be desired in my opinion. Another basement dweller in need of more sunshine and a primer in sociability.

“Sure thing Mr. Q. So was Billy able to talk you out of kidnaping him or is mission ‘destroy his life’ still on?”

“It’s still on and he’s upstairs if you want to say your goodbyes.” I chuckled unwillingly to myself over the overdramatized reaction from teenagers.

Bang. That was a gunshot. Moving Jeff to the side I lost no time charging into the house throwing the front door into the wall in my haste. I ran to the den where Deb was just standing there frozen as a statue. Oh my god did she accidently shoot herself when getting the gun case. “Are you Ok! Are you hurt?” I shouted at her as I held her by the shoulders and looked her over for injuries.

“Upstairs…” Her words didn’t register until I followed her eyes to the stairs. Not losing another moment sprinted the steps three at a time. Thoughts flew my head as my body raced ahead. Why would a gun be upstairs I kept them all locked in the gun safe, in the den, downstairs? The only other person in the house was Billy and he never expressed any interest in them before. Never wanted to go to the range or to any of the occasional sportsman expos I attended.

“Billy! Billy, where are you?” I screamed as this bedroom was empty. Muffled sobs came from behind the bathroom door. The door was locked and I definitely heard a pained anguished moan coming from inside. Rearing back, I slammed my boot into the door, destroying the cheap interior lock and part of the door as it exploded open. What my eyes saw stunned me.

So much blood… did he fall… he shot himself… he killed himself… no he’s still alive…he’s crying and in pain… the side of his head was blown out… my son… the gun is still in his hand. I couldn’t’ seem to form a complete thought before I was on to the next one. I fell to my knees and reached out. I wanted to help him, to comfort him but I didn’t know how.

“Billy…” I whispered.

Bang. My son finished what he started.