Creative Writing: Outside The Museum

Outside the museum, there are about five or six children all whooping and running in and out of these sprinklers. Tommy asks me if I think the sprinklers are a part of the museum. I tell him I hope they are, that the sprinklers are the best damn art I have ever seen. The children all have muddy knees and dirt mustaches and they aren’t doing much of anything except for running and whooping.
Dad comes up to Tommy and me. He is huffing a whole bunch. He says he is tired and that he wants to go to the apartment and rest. Tommy calls Dad an old man. Mom hands me my purse. She says I forgot it at bag check. I tell her I knew all along that she had gone to get it. Mom calls me irresponsible and ungrateful. Dad asks if Mom is ready to head back to the apartment. Mom says we can’t go back; she reminds Dad that we have a dinner reservation. Dad throws his hands in the air. He asks, “Why can’t we ever do anything I want to do?” Tommy says that Dad wanted to go to the museum and to the restaurant and that we are all doing exactly what he wants. Dad says, “Who asked you?” Mom says we can walk to the restaurant or we can take the Metro. I say that my legs are tired. Tommy says, “Let’s take the Metro.” Dad calls us babies. He makes us walk. He walks fast. Mom can’t walk as fast as Dad because “She is an old woman.” Dad yells

He says he is sorry, and that he won’t be around much longer. Tommy screams and pulls his own hair. He says, “You ruin fucking everything!” I grab Tommy’s hands from his head. I am afraid. Tommy is breathing heavily. He is crushing my hand, but I don’t let go. Tommy looks me in the eye, he says, “I am gay. Tonight was supposed to be about me.” Tommy looks at Dad, who is still on the ground. Tommy says, “I hope this destroys our family.” Tommy pushes my hand away from him. “Tommy,” I say. I reach for him again, but he is already far away from me, running, screaming into the