Quality Family Time

(Don't you just wanna scream sometime?)

"How many times did you change her diaper?"
"Twice."
"Twice do you know how long I've been gone?" she said. By the way she slammed the car door she seemed a little infuriated.

We were sitting in the car driving up the ***** street. My sister had been asking me piercing questions like, what did you feed her, did she use the pottey, did you play with her, all questions in which if I answered explosively amazingly, I would still get the same product of angry let downs. It when she turned off the radio that I knew it was coming.

My family. My family came from a long line of mishaps and disappointments, all bending down to me, the youngest latest edition to the Bradies. 6 kids, 3 girls, 3 boys. I was Bobby, except that I was the youngest. Everyone was let down by everyone else. It was like a race as to who can disappoint their parents more than the next sibling. And all the yelling, all the blame, all the hope that one person from this family could be different, came down to me.

I was blamed for the drugs I've never taken, scorned for the friends that I've never had, I was the one talked sternly about failing High School when I had a 3.27 GPA, not exactly perfect but nowhere near failing. I was still a disappointment in everyone's eyes, because no one knew how to be proud of anyone.


"Why didn't you change her diaper 5 times like I told you?"
"You never told me that..."
"WHAT!" her voice scratched through metal walls in my ears, "I DIDN'T TELL YOU TO CHANGE...."

I didn't say anything. I simply just opened the car door while we stopped at the stop light and walked out of the car in the middle lane of the highway. I could see several people in several cars, whose attention I caught. It was like when my older sister use to yell at my older brother and he use to walk out of the car. I can't stand the yelling. They've been yelling nonstop ever since I could remember.

I've been in this town for awhile; Daly City. I immediately went to the gas station to find prospects for a hitch hiked ride. Growing up with my family left me to find ways around anything. They were always stuck on one thing other than me; whether it be dealing with every one else's problems or taking hold of that one hour of freedom that they can have without being brought down, and holding onto that moment for dear life. Everything was just more important than me. In the process you find things about people, as in strangers. After awhile you could size up which people are going to give you a quarter so that you could take the bus, buses that were 75 cents when I was younger, which was 3 people I'd have to successfully pull. If I wanted something to eat, I'd find it somehow, and if I didn't I'd steal. I'd figure God saw this, and knew that he failed me before I failed him. A lot of PUA's come forth with large quantities of approach anxiety. They tend to nervously shake when they talk to strangers. For me, strangers were the reason I could get on the 2 buses from my High School to my house every time I couldn't find a ride home from school.

I went over to the gas station and walked up to the first girl I saw.

"Hey I know this is random, but I just got kicked out of my sister's car and...." I could see how this was going to turn out. When I was done with my little pitch, she obviously said no, probably because of my choice of words. I walked into the gas station to ask if they had a business phone I could borrow. Never waste your money on a pay phone, just ask. They didn't. Gave me some sort of fluff about it being a gas station and how they can't let people borrow their company phone. I don't know why people say no, then explain that they do have what you're looking for, just not for you. If I was an actual Felon I'd kill her and take her phone. But, I'm not, I'm a nice guy.

I could see someone I know walking from her car to the gas station. She was part of my youth group choir when I was a part of the Catholic youth group, which I discontinued being a part of when I left the religion. We both said hi, but she busted right through asking the registry people where the bathroom was. I was about to tell her my I-need-a-ride pitch, but I'd rather not hold people from using the tinkle room. When she came back, she told me that she was in a hurry and couldn't. Bitch!

I sucked it up and left. I had about 800 yards of uphill waiting for me, just laughing at me. I thought about what I would say to my sister. Maybe take out a piece of paper, put guidelines on it. My sister's the type of person who knows what the problem is, and knows what the solution is, and somehow still ends up making a situation worse. Agenda paper's were unlikely. I thought about it in my mind, like an actual structured argument: you're doing this, I'm doing this for you, this is your problem, and if you keep doing this, I will not be able to do this for you. I started thinking up bullet points in my head when I saw a rather familiar large goti unproportionate to the Chinese guy wearing it. I quickly waved him down. For a minute I didn't know who he was, but I was entirely sure that I knew him. He started to roll down his window.

"Hey man!" he said through his open window.
"Hey man, any chance you could give me a ride up that hill?"
"Fuck man, seriously, I got work in like 4 minutes," he seemed annoyed, but in a playful happy-to-see-me manner. He started clearing his passenger seat.
I already walked down to his car and started trying to open the door. "It's only up the hill." He unlocked the car and let me in.

"So where you working at now," I asked trying to get a feel as to how I know him.
"Oh I'm still at the gym," he said, but I knew he felt kinda weirded out that I would ask him where he worked at. I then realized that we work together, but at a different store. A store I work graveyard at sometimes. We played catch up, said the usual question, then he dropped me off.


* * * * * * *

I knew my sister's going to answer the door, she's going to answer the door. She was on the phone when she did. She didn't say anything at first because her daughter was in the middle of using the potty. Then she said that one line, it could've been any line, it was just that one line that reeled in the conversation.

"Hey, we need to talk," I said coming from the kitchen.
"What do we need to talk about," she said.
"We need to talk, you need to sit down."
"No, I'm not going to sit down, this is my house, don't tell me what to do in my house."
"You need to sit down."
"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" she yelled. Her it comes. "What do you want to talk about how you can't change a diaper 5 times during the day. Is that what you want to talk about?" she said leaving the kitchen.

"We need to talk about you throwing these emotional tantrums," she left before I could get in another word. She replied by saying something stupid across the hallway. I followed her in the bathroom.

"Look," I said to her back as she tended to her daughter, "You need to stop yelling, that's what you need to do."
"No! You need to change her diaper every hour, how come you can't do that?" she yelled.
"I can do that. If I can change her diaper twice, it's not a problem to change her diaper 5 times. You just need to tell me."
"Why do I have to tell you, you're my brother?!?!"
"Yeah, I am, I'm not a baby sitter."
"It's commonsense."
"No it's not, or else I would've changed her diaper 5 times a day."
"You know what Jaype, look it up on google!" (my family calls me Jaype, because my first two initials are J.P.)
"Whatever, I'll look it up on google, it's not hard. This isn't about changing a diaper, this is about you yelling at people and throwing these stupid tantrums every time something happens."

She started yelling. A lot more yelling. Those yellings that make no sense, where you just happen to state everyone you know because everyone else has everything else to do with changing a diaper 5 times a day. She started talking about how my cousin couldn't do it, my mom couldn't do it, and now I can't do it. She said what she expected out of me, and I was like what? I told her how I did her laundry, washed the dishes, clean the kitchen, and all I'm asking is that you stop yelling. Obviously she replied with more yelling.

"Why can't you just stop yelling? Why!" I yelled. I was yelling too, I'm not going to lie. My niece, and her daughter was watching both of us as we ripped off each other's sibling heads off. "This is why people leave you, this is why everyone leaves!" I said. In the back of my head during this whole yelling conversation, I knew not to mention her separated husband. Just don't do it. But, I did.

"Get out!"
"No...."
"This is my house, get out!"
"No, I'm you're brother, I'm on your lease, you can't kick me out."
"THIS IS MY HOUSE! GET OUT!"
"What are you going to do hit me, call the police, are you going to yell at them to."

I could see the tears running past the sides of her cheeks. I hate yelling at my family, my sister's especially. Because, their women, and because my brother's tend to be fuck ups, my sisters did have the higher hand when it came to raising me, so I did end up with all that gender etiquette fluff. She started hitting me. I knew it. As she started, I told her it was okay, and that she needed it. I really didn't tell her, and yelled at her to hit me.

"Get out of my house!"
"No...." I said for the final time.
"Then go somewhere else, because ***** is coming (her separated husband.) I returned back to the kitchen to continue lolli gagging on facebook and craigslist.

I waited in the kitchen as I heard her doing stuff, grabbing this, getting that. I watched as she past me in the kitchen through the hallway, and out the door, completely ignoring that I was there. After 12 minutes she came back into the apartment, walked past me completely ignoring me, and walking to her room. She came back with a paper in hand.

"Where does it say on this paper that you occupant in my apartment."
"I'm not, but I am."

I really didn't need to talk anymore. I was just waiting for my cue. She turned and started crying. It wasn't about me. For 22 years of my life, it wasn't about, it was usually never about me but, I spent most of my childhood being blamed by everyone included myself that I was the root of everyone's problem, not because I couldn't change a diaper 5 times a day. It was just because everyone needed someone to blame. And I was the youngest.

My sister monologued, yep monologued about my mom, and my cousin, and how they couldn't take care of the baby, so when she came over to her separated husband's house to exchange weekends, he'd yell at my sister for everyone else's faults. Just a cycle. My sister cried and cried, talked about her ex-boyfriend who we all hated, but ultimately tried to help her out. I wrapped my arms around my sister and she pushed me away. She's too grown up for hugs now. But, she needed that release. She needed that emotional release. She needed me to yell at, not because I couldn't change 5 diapers, but because I was there and she needed to yell at someone.

She left to her room, and I continued writing this.

P.S. You know those women who spend long hours in the office timidly in front of a computer, who constantly get yelled at for no reason, but knocks them down to a crummy level. People need a release. Sometimes they cry, sometimes they have sex with strangers, or friends that they regret doing it with later. It's just healthy to get it out.