My family’s laughter was painfully loud in the confines of the minivan,but I was too happy to care.After the whole ordeal of getting my father through rehab after three failed attempts,I wanted to enjoy myself for the first time since he started drinking again.He was home enjoying the quiet house,and my mother had taken the three of us that were still living at home out to a movie.
My brother,my sister,and I were planning an all-night video game battle,something I never would have agreed to three months ago before the successful rehab.
In the house,I got up the stairs in front of the rest of the family to run to my room and change in preparation for the night ahead.I turned the corner into the hallway and stopped dead.Lying on the floor,clearly unconscious,was my father.
I guess I should have known,should have smelled the alcohol,but at least by now I was accustomed to seeing him,stone drunk,strapped to a gurney and driven away in an ambulance.And yet,each time it happened,it hurt more.