Mom was cooking for me.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had tasted her food. She made pancakes for
dinner and it tasted like rainbows. Something inside me unraveled and I put
down the knife and fork.
“Hey mom,”
She looked up at me.
“Yes, Daniel?”
“Thanks.”
“What for?”
“For making dinner and
for trying to be friendly. It doesn’t excuse everything you did but it does
soothe the sting,” I said.
Now she put down her
knife and fork. “I didn’t do anything. Your father is the one that raised you
to be like this.”
“That’s exactly why
I’m mad at you. You could’ve prevented this,” I said.
“If I raised you, you
would have never met Ella,” mom said.
I didn’t know what to
say. Was she right? I did like the small family I had with Chantel and Ella. But
it had become boring. I craved something more than a family. I wanted action
and adventure. I wanted violence and fire.
“Maybe you’re right,
but that doesn’t mean what you did was justified,” I said.
“It was plenty
justified. You will never know the hell your father put me through,” mom
hissed.
“And you’ll never know
the hell that you put me through. Dad was there for me. Dad made me
strong. He helped me. But you…I don’t have the words.”
“So what? I was a
coward. Get over it.”
“I can’t,” I said.
“Then go fuck yourself
you entitled piece of shit. I don’t owe you anything,” mom said.
Before I knew what was
happening, I had slapped mom. She laughed.
“Like father, like
son.” She fell to the floor in hysterics.
I understood why dad
drank. Mom would have an episode and he would drink to cope. To get her to snap
out of it, he would hit her. The guilt made him drink more. The cycle
continued. I helped her up and guided her to the couch. I heated chamomile tea
and she sipped it until she fell asleep. I exhaled and the clock ticked to
nine. Ella and Chantel would be back by eleven. They went out to eat. I looked
at mom sleeping peacefully on the couch and thought about slipping some pills
into her next drink. But Ella wouldn’t like that. Ella was my conscience. I had
tried so hard to keep myself in check but it was getting harder and harder.
Maybe I should’ve joined Ricky’s gang. I wanted to feel power like I did when I
was younger. I would get into lots of fights and I loved it. I needed to do
something with my energy before it consumed me.