Chapter Text
You think a lot of stupid things when you’re young. Or, I guess, you don’t think, and that’s what gets you into trouble. If I’d had a plan, I would’ve turned out different. Not… well.
When I graduated high school, I only wanted two things for my future. I didn’t want to stay in Chicago forever, and I didn’t want to be a cop. I didn’t have a fucking clue about what I did want to do. Stupid, right?
That was the worst fight I ever had with my dad. His family’s always been cops. There’ve been Majeskis on the Chicago police force since there was a Chicago and a police force. I’m the last one with the name - Uncle Karl died young, and Uncle Eddie never had any kids - so when I told him I was going to college and not the academy, that pissed him off real bad. My mom used to say that’s what ended up killing him, that he never drank so bad before I told him I didn’t want to join the force. But she only ever said it when she was pissed at me, so who knows.
I don’t regret that at all. I’ve seen what that life does to people. That’s what happened to Uncle Karl. Twenty-seven years old, promising young lieutenant, took eight rounds on a drug bust. Uncle Eddie’s heart couldn’t handle the stress. And my dad… he was a good cop. A really good cop. One of the best. But then he got injured in the line of duty and couldn’t do it anymore. That tore him up. Can you imagine, having something you were born to do, something that you love and take pride in, and then it’s ripped away from you? Turns out he couldn’t handle it either. Just took him longer to die, is all.
Anyway. I knew I didn’t want to be a cop. I won that fight with my dad, but it didn’t feel like much of a victory. We both said a lot of shit we shouldn’t have. He didn’t kick me out or anything like that, but it wasn’t the same between us. I got accepted into the City Colleges - bachelor’s in Communications, class of ‘05. I didn’t know shit about Communications, but it sounded like something that could get me some kinda job someday. Like I said, I was a stupid kid.
College was alright. I wasn’t that bright, but I did okay. Dated some guys, some girls, whatever. Living someplace other than my parents’ house was nice. And I met Kate, of course. I thought a little more about what I wanted to do with my future, not that I came up with any great ideas. I had this stupid plan that I’d do a road trip after I graduated, visit every state in the US, maybe Canada or something, and then… take pictures? Write about it? Find myself? I don’t fucking know. Like driving around would solve anything. But I started saving money for it. Bussed a lot of tables and scrubbed a lot of dishes.
Then my dad died. January 23rd, 2005. My mom came home after work and found him dead in the kitchen. He’d finally drunk himself to death. She kind of went off the rails a little bit after that, and, well, I did too. Did a bunch of stupid things to make myself stop thinking about it. Poker and the ponies, mostly. It was exciting, but it wasn’t real , you know? Of course, it actually was. Next thing I knew, the money I’d saved up for that trip was gone and I was in hock to the King.
Kate got engaged sometime in there, too. Sometimes I wonder…
I did manage to graduate, God only knows how, but it’s not like I had the cash to go anywhere anymore. I started sending out applications to wherever. Then one of my dad’s old buddies from the force approached me. Said they could find me a job with the city somewhere. I was already fucked, I wasn’t gonna pass up job security and a pension. That’s how I ended up with COSA.
Somewhere in there - don’t quite know where, don’t want to know - Marcone bought all my debt from Lear. I’ve been trying to pay it back for twelve years now, but fuck, I’m a city employee. We haven’t had a budget since 2015. I’m barely making the minimum payments. So as long as I want to keep living in a house and eating food, Marcone owns my ass. If I lose this job, I don’t know what the fuck happens then. My mom’s in a nursing home; they sold the house ages ago. She doesn’t even know my name anymore. My half-brother lives in fucking Indiana and doesn’t like me anyways.
So what, you want advice? Don’t end up like me. Plan, for christ’s sake. You gotta know what you want to do and not just what you don’t want to do. And make sure it’s an actual plan, not just some vague floaty idea of what would be nice. Just… don’t be an idiot, okay?