just leave things the hell alone? Why couldn't he
just let me be happy? Why!?
Where are the torches and pitchforks when you
need them?
29
“Harvey, Honey, it's time to get ready for
school.”
I stood half dressed in the doorway. My mom
sat slumped over the kitchen table, tired and exhausted. Dark
circles encompassed her light blue eyes. She was quietly sipping
her coffee with two creams and four sugars. I hesitated slightly as
I began to approach the table, the cracked linoleum cold and hard
through my tattered socks. I'd been planning this moment for weeks,
but was unsure if I could bring myself to do it. Had it not been
for our recent family tree project in school I might never have
worked up the courage to do so in the first place. My project was a
botched piece of fabrication that I'm sure everyone was able to see
right through.
The blank stare on my mother's face made her
look vulnerable and beaten. I was scared, but if it was going to
happen, it had to happen now.
“Where's my father?” I said shakily, almost
stuttering.
My mother never moved, never put down her
coffee, never stopped staring at the paint chipped wall.
“He's gone.” she said bluntly.
That's all she ever said when anyone asked
where he was. He had to be somewhere. I wanted to know, needed to
know.
“Where did he go?”
Still lifeless, she uttered, “back home,”
just slightly above a faint whisper.
Well, that was start! She had never said that
before! All I needed now was to find out where he lived.
“Where's home?”
“Not here.”
“Yeah, but where? What town? Maybe I can find
him? Maybe he's looking for us too?” I began firing question after
question, getting louder and louder as my excitement grew.
“No, Harvey. He's...he's not. He knows right
where we are. He's not looking for us. We're better off without him
anyway.”
My stomach dropped. If he knew where we were
why hadn't he come to visit? Or called? Why hadn't he ever even
seen me? Didn't he care?
I ran toward her, mouth open and ready to
ask, when she cut me off.
“Harvey, I said no!” she put her hand up in
front of my face angrily, stopping me quick. I knew the hand meant
business, but a kid needs to know!
“But, Mom...”
She shook her head in quiet frustration.
“Damn it, Harvey! No!” she screamed. It takes
a lot to make her crack, but any conversation involving my father
easily broke her. I suddenly felt a wash of guilt come over me as I
realized I had done just that in record time.
She stood up from the table and stormed off
to her room. Her coffee left untouched on the table, still
steaming. I had gone eight years of my life not having a dad. The
crushing reality that I never will brought pools of hot tears to my
eyes.
I stood in the cold kitchen longer than I
should have, my courage deflated. By the time I was dressed and out
the door, I was already ten minutes late to my 3rd grade class.
Today, I didn't care. Today, I didn't care about anything.
30
I often wonder what the old man thinks of me
now. Now that I'm trapped Here. I'm sure all it's done is justify
every rotten thought he's ever had of me since hearing of my
existence. Worthless, unwanted, the destroyer of dreams. That son
of a bitch is probably kicking up his heals, dancing for joy now
that I'm Here. I guess in the end, we both got a little piece of
what we wanted. The only real loser in this game was my mom. I
wonder if he had ever cared about her at all.
31
The smooth hard steel grew warm in my hand.
Small puffs of hot smoke rose seductively out of the barrel of the
gun. Everyone began to scatter like rats from a sinking ship. The
screeching chaos consuming the cafeteria became barely audible as
my concentration zoned in on JJ. He hid, cowering under the table
like a scared rabbit.
I was mortified. Why was he not writhing in
pain? I just shot him for fuck's sake!
Peering just to the right of JJ's quivering
form, lay a scrawny, lifeless body.
Oh no. Oh
just let me be happy? Why!?
Where are the torches and pitchforks when you
need them?
29
“Harvey, Honey, it's time to get ready for
school.”
I stood half dressed in the doorway. My mom
sat slumped over the kitchen table, tired and exhausted. Dark
circles encompassed her light blue eyes. She was quietly sipping
her coffee with two creams and four sugars. I hesitated slightly as
I began to approach the table, the cracked linoleum cold and hard
through my tattered socks. I'd been planning this moment for weeks,
but was unsure if I could bring myself to do it. Had it not been
for our recent family tree project in school I might never have
worked up the courage to do so in the first place. My project was a
botched piece of fabrication that I'm sure everyone was able to see
right through.
The blank stare on my mother's face made her
look vulnerable and beaten. I was scared, but if it was going to
happen, it had to happen now.
“Where's my father?” I said shakily, almost
stuttering.
My mother never moved, never put down her
coffee, never stopped staring at the paint chipped wall.
“He's gone.” she said bluntly.
That's all she ever said when anyone asked
where he was. He had to be somewhere. I wanted to know, needed to
know.
“Where did he go?”
Still lifeless, she uttered, “back home,”
just slightly above a faint whisper.
Well, that was start! She had never said that
before! All I needed now was to find out where he lived.
“Where's home?”
“Not here.”
“Yeah, but where? What town? Maybe I can find
him? Maybe he's looking for us too?” I began firing question after
question, getting louder and louder as my excitement grew.
“No, Harvey. He's...he's not. He knows right
where we are. He's not looking for us. We're better off without him
anyway.”
My stomach dropped. If he knew where we were
why hadn't he come to visit? Or called? Why hadn't he ever even
seen me? Didn't he care?
I ran toward her, mouth open and ready to
ask, when she cut me off.
“Harvey, I said no!” she put her hand up in
front of my face angrily, stopping me quick. I knew the hand meant
business, but a kid needs to know!
“But, Mom...”
She shook her head in quiet frustration.
“Damn it, Harvey! No!” she screamed. It takes
a lot to make her crack, but any conversation involving my father
easily broke her. I suddenly felt a wash of guilt come over me as I
realized I had done just that in record time.
She stood up from the table and stormed off
to her room. Her coffee left untouched on the table, still
steaming. I had gone eight years of my life not having a dad. The
crushing reality that I never will brought pools of hot tears to my
eyes.
I stood in the cold kitchen longer than I
should have, my courage deflated. By the time I was dressed and out
the door, I was already ten minutes late to my 3rd grade class.
Today, I didn't care. Today, I didn't care about anything.
30
I often wonder what the old man thinks of me
now. Now that I'm trapped Here. I'm sure all it's done is justify
every rotten thought he's ever had of me since hearing of my
existence. Worthless, unwanted, the destroyer of dreams. That son
of a bitch is probably kicking up his heals, dancing for joy now
that I'm Here. I guess in the end, we both got a little piece of
what we wanted. The only real loser in this game was my mom. I
wonder if he had ever cared about her at all.
31
The smooth hard steel grew warm in my hand.
Small puffs of hot smoke rose seductively out of the barrel of the
gun. Everyone began to scatter like rats from a sinking ship. The
screeching chaos consuming the cafeteria became barely audible as
my concentration zoned in on JJ. He hid, cowering under the table
like a scared rabbit.
I was mortified. Why was he not writhing in
pain? I just shot him for fuck's sake!
Peering just to the right of JJ's quivering
form, lay a scrawny, lifeless body.
Oh no. Oh
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