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Just an obvious sidenote, Ari is a boy in this story. It is not short for anything. It is pronounced "Are-ee".
---

Staring at a canvas, Ari took this opportunity to drink another shot of vodka. If painting didn't relieve his stress, alcohol did. I guess we all have our ways of dealing. Dealing with stress, that is.

3:41 AM. Ari faced a large open window, overlooking a small yard. A big vessel to view with little scenery to appreciate. His canvas was propped in front of him on an easel, varied colors of paint to his right and a bottle of vodka to his left. He always had a knack for art, even when he was a little boy. His father would buy him cars, trucks, fishing poles, and fake guns but none of that made the cut.
--
"Dad, I want an easel." Ari whined, tilting his head upwards to fully see his father. His father did nothing but grunt and groan, as the topic brought out an argument. He ignored his son's question.

"So what if the boy wants to draw, Kevin, I'm going to let the boy draw. He's 9 years old," Ari's mother defended him.

"My son is not going to be a fag, Janet," Kevin raised his voice as the sentence spilled from his lips.

She looked at him, wondering why in all of history drawing would make their son a fag. You can't make someone "a fag," she thought.
--
Ari dropped his paintbrush, and made his wobbly way over to the window where he pulled the curtains closed. Soon after, he crashed onto his bed, curling into the warm embrace of blankets. With a half finished painting, that's all he remembers from the night.
--
"So, Ari, you're telling me that this is all you've finished so far?" Elana glanced over at the sloppily drawn, half colored canvas.

"I guess, I-I- I think that's all I did. Yes, that's all I did. If I did more, it would be there," Ari's voice slowly turned irritated, his small stutter inevitable given his hungover circumstances. He sat up in bed, his blankets twisted and turned around his body. He rubbed his eyes, trying to focus on something other than a blur. "Hey, how did you get in here, anyway?"

"You idiot, the door was unlocked. I wanted to drop off some fruit salad I made earlier, because I know that's your favorite. I rang the doorbell three times an--," Elana tilted her head slightly, her best friend spread out, asleep once again.

"Oh, ha, okay then. The fruit salad is in the fridge, if you're, uh, wondering."

Hesitating to leave, Elana examined the room. Easel, vodka, bed, window, chair, dresser, mirror, pile of dirty clothes, empty plastic laundry hamper, bedside table with condoms and advil inside, a clock, and door. By the time she finished, she had made a perfect 360 circle. "Gee, I guess the vodka explains a lot," Elana giggled quietly, slowly starting to saunter out of her friends bedroom. Just as the living room and front door approached, she heard his voice.

"E-E-ELAAAAANAAAAA!"

"What? Ari?" Elana turned around, walking back to the room, peeking inside.

"You mean, you just walked inside my house without my permission? Is that what you're sayin'? Is that what you're sayin', Elana?" Ari was once again sitting up, his eyes half closed and his face confused.

"Uh, yeah, sort of. I've known you forever," Elana rolled her eyes, leaning against the door frame.

"Ok, Elana. What time is it?" Ari rubbed his eyes again, gravitating back towards the mattress.

"It's 10:04 AM. You should probably rest for a little longer, if you know what's best for you," Elana giggled at the beat up sight of her friend. "You look half dead, run over, bed heade--"

"Elana, stop it, I look beautiful." Ari half smiled, his eyes opening just a bit wider as his fingers trailed through his red hair. Artifical red hair — only he would wish he was born a ginger.

"Gee, someones in a rare mood. I wonder why, lightweight." Elana nodded towards the bottle of vodka, almost half gone.

"Anyway, I should really head out. I have some things to take care of. See you later, loser. Oh, and please shower when you finally get up." Elana rolled her eyes, shutting the bedroom door as she made her way out of the house

"See ya, E-E-ELAAAANA. ELANANANA. BANANA," Ari screamed into his empty room and then chuckled to himself, once again falling over to sleep some more.
--
RIIIING. RIIIING. RIIIIIIIIIING. What's that? A phone? You better hurry out of bed and pick up that call. Could be important. Wouldn't wanna miss it. Wouldn't wanna miss anything important. Ari, you wouldn't wanna miss anything import-
--
And then, I woke up.

Startled by the loud noise, I grazed my hands all over my bed trying to find that stupid cellular device. What day is it? What time is it? Why is my head pounding? Finally, my hands wrapped around that stupid phone.

"H-Hello?" My voice stuttered, but I couldn't help it.

"Hey, Ari, I was just wondering if you're feeling up to dinner with me and your father."

I knew that voice, and I also knew if I denied again, my toes would be dipped in hot water as a sneak preview for my whole body.

"Yeah, sure, uh, w-what time is..." I started to trail off by my mother interrupted me.

"Ari, did you just wake up? It's 4:30 PM. We're leaving for dinner at 5:30. We'll swing by to pick you up, Don't make us wait," she almost scolded, hanging up the phone on her end.

My mom sounded less than pleased, but not one ounce of motivation was pulsing through my veins. Something about a shower was in the back of my mind, but I couldn't quite remember who said it or when it was even said.

Shifting my legs to the side of the bed was enough to make me nauseous all over again, and I didn't even drink half a bottle. I gradually propped myself up, sliding out of bed, stumbling into the shower.

The warm water felt good against my skin, and helped to temporarily soothe my headache. "I hate getting drunk," I mummered under my breath, letting the water trickle down my lips and into my mouth. "Nothing good ever happens," I mumbled to myself as a mix of water and saliva dripped from my lower lip to my chin, "But I still do it anyway," I laughed at my own self pity.

My parents kept their word, and at 5:30 that old, bumpy car jolted to a stop in front of my house.

"Gee, I can't wait," I rolled my eyes as I shut off the lights in my living room, locking the front door behind me as I stepped outside into the crisp air.

"Hi Ari, I'm glad you're joining us," My mother made the slightest of glares from the front seat, just enough squint so I could feel it was there. She rolled the window back up, sitting up with perfect posture. Who does that? My mom.

I opened the back door, sliding into the seat. My headache was slowly dulling, but my appetite surely wasn't showing any return signs despite the Advil I took after my shower.

"Hi, son," My dad nodded, barely looking at me for a second through the rear view mirror.

My thoughts soon began to flow as we headed down my street. There was one lonely townhouse for sale, the end one to be exact. Since when was that for sale? I've always wanted the end home, being sandwiched between an old lady who plays the piano and a family with 5 kids isn't always fun. Whoever moves in, they better appreciate it.

At the restaurant, we were seated at a small circular table in the corner, directly under a softly dimmed light. The atmosphere of the restaurant was almost like Hollister, minus the clothes, awful perfume smell, and music.

"So, your father and I have been talking," my mother slowly sipped her red wine, peering over at me from the edge of the glass. This is never the start to something good.

"Okay, and?" I looked up at her, shifting my salad around with my fork. No appetite. My father's look was less than approving.

"I think that maybe it's time for you to find a real job, you know? You're 23 now and I just want what's best for you. I even think that, maybe, you know, it's time for you to find a steady girlfriend."

My mom's eyes looked concerned, and my dad just sat there with crossed arms, his eyes darting from me to my mom and back again.

"Uh, mom, I'm gay."

JUST KIDDING! Yeah right, like I would say that. My mind had those four words on repeat as I nodded, my body suddenly filling with anger.

"Why the hell do you think I need a job? I make good money painting then selling at the shop down the street. It's more than enough for me to rent my place and take care of myself."

I knew this would happen, my temper was slowly rising. The events of this evening were predictable from the beginning.

"It's not just that, It's time for you to start a family. I've always wanted grandchildren," my mom's expression didn't change one bit through her whole spiel.

"Grandchildren my ass," I said while my head fell straight into my hands. My headache that I thought was almost gone suddenly came back — sharp.

"Listen, is this all you have to say? Because if it is, I'm not wasting my time."

My throbbing head sure didn't add to the evening, and my hangover was less than forgiving. My temper was even shorter than normal around my parents.

"I just thought it was a good topic to bring up..."

My mother's eyebrows rose, giving a slight glance over to my father. I knew that he was the one who wanted to bring this topic up, and not my mother. After all, he's the one who knew I was a "fag" from the beginning.

"Actually, I'm done here," I spoke while wiping my mouth with my napkin, nodding with wide eyes at both of my parents.

In one single movement, I rose and proceeded to walk out of the restaurant. My temper and anger got the best of me, as it should have.

"Janet, It's not your fault. Shouldn'ta told you to say anything," my dad's voice sounded familiar as I approached the exit.

Outside the restaurant, I examined my two options as I lit my cigarette.

One, walk the 15 minutes home and sleep. For a while.

Two, walk 3 minutes down the block to the bar.
Guess which option won?

I pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket, dialing Elana's number only to reach her voicemail.

"Hey, Elana. It's me. I was supposed to have dinner with my parents but It blew up.. I blew up. Can you meet me at the bar on Willow Street? Thanks, I guess," I spoke into my cell phone through the bad reception.

No matter what, the bar and alcohol welcomes me.

As I trudged down the sidewalks, I refused to let my mind wander back to my parents.

Inside the bar, I sat down on the barstool, ordering a beer.

"Ari! Why are you even here? You're just going to leave your parents there at dinner?"

Elana rushed in, slamming her stuff down on the counter. "You should at least apologize. At least," Elana looked at me, and she looked worried.

"Don't even worry about my problems, parents will be fine. They're always fine," I was slumped in my seat, drinking the beer faster than I ever thought possible. It went down smooth, and I ordered a second.

"You're basically doing the same thing as yesterday... but with beer. Ari, please just go home. Sleep it off, and apologize tomorrow. If you don't, who knows."

I turned my head to face her, my voice low, "Elana, don't tell me what to do. They'll be fine."

Elana shifted in her seat, her head dropping. I slowly looked away, staring at the bottle in front of me.

"Sorry," I murmured.

Elana shook her head, "Don't apologize to me. Let's go, I'll drop you off at home."

Elana stood up and gripped my wrist. She threw some money on the counter with her free hand, tugging me off my seat. Her grip was tight, she was serious.

Ther ride back to my place was quiet.

"Go to sleep, Ari. Do you hear me?" Elana's face was barely recognizable with only the street lamps and dim sun as a light source.

"I've slept enough. You're not my mom anyway, I'll do as I please."

With that, I stepped out of the car and slammed the passenger door shut. I heard Elana drive away in the background.

"I'm such an asshole," I smacked my forehead, unlocking the door to my town house. It was only 7:00, and the sun was just about set. I heard a man talking, but I couldn't pick out his words.

This neighborhood is usually quiet, so I peered down my neighbors' front porches with no sign of anyone. Then, I saw the source of the voice.
A man was talking on his cell phone. He changed the "For Sale" sign on the end house to a "Sold" sign, then promptly got back into his car, driving away.