Home Is Burning by Dan Marshall Read Free Book Online

our own mental health as things got bad. Dr. Bromberg had advised that my mom and dad both go on an antidepressant, because apparently slowly losing functioning in your body and no longer being able to do the things you love is quite a bummer.
    â€œI actually really love these antidepressants. I should’ve been on this shit for years,” my mom said, as she smiled as big as I’d ever seen her smile. “You guys should really try them.”
    They had also started seeing a therapist, Robin. Robin suggested that they try to cherish the time they had together and not fixate too much on the future. She said to focus on what my dad could do, instead of what he couldn’t. She also suggested that my dad come up with a few activities he wanted to do with each of us before he turned into a crippled mess—sort of a bucket-list-type thing.
    â€œWe’ll go to a Jazz game together,” I said.
    â€œI’m going to take him helicopter skiing in January,” said Tiffany.
    â€œWe’ll play a lot of tennis when I move back home,” said Greg.
    â€œYou can take me to dance,” said Chelsea.
    â€œYou can buy me a new digital camera,” suggested Jessica.
    â€œWe’re also trying to figure out a big family vacation to take this summer,” said my mom.
    â€œThat all sounds great,” my optimistic dad said.
    Then finally, there was the issue of us all helping out. My parents were a little divided on this topic. My mom thought we all should move home instantly to lend a hand and spend time with our dad, but my dad didn’t want to burden us. He knew our adult lives were starting and didn’t want the disease to get in the way of that. He liked being the giver of attention, not the receiver. He wanted to just hire an aide when it got bad, but my mom thought we should be the ones to care for him.
    â€œWe’re his fucking family, so you little shits really need to step it up now, especially you older kids,” my mom said.
    â€œWell, I’m already moving home this summer,” bragged Greg.
    â€œI might be at law school, and I have work, and Brian and I might take a vacation to Costa Rica next year, but I’ll do all I can,” said Tiffany in a panic.
    â€œI already live here, remember?” Chelsea giggled.
    â€œListen, I don’t want everyone sitting around feeling sorry for me and waiting for me to die. You have lives, too,” my dad said.
    â€œOh, get over your denial, Bobby Boy,” said my mom. “We had all these shithead kids for a reason.”
    Looking back, I should’ve called up my work right then and there and quit. I should’ve weaseled out of my apartment lease. I should’ve tossed everything I owned in boxes and raced out of Los Angeles and back home as quickly as I possibly could. I should’ve jumped at the opportunity to spend as much time as possible with my still relatively healthy dad. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know how serious this horrible disease actually is. I figured I’d start visiting more frequently, maybe I’d even move back eventually, but for now I had a new career to worry about, a girlfriend, an apartment, a life—albeit a selfish, stupid one.
    â€œAnd that’s it for now, troopers,” my mom said, closing her notebook.
    We were all as silent as the falling snow as we looked over the wrapped presents, not really wanting to open them anymore. I glanced over at my dad, his Santa hat drooping on his head. I couldn’t believe all this was happening. He looked so healthy, so alive. His usual self. Was he really going to slowly become paralyzed while his family ran around trying to put the fires out? It didn’t seem real. I loved the man more than anything. He had done such a great job of taking care of all of us over the years, and it was weird that the roles would potentially be reversing—that we’d be taking care of him—and this early in