it.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘Says you.’
She slapped me, hard, across the face. I was so shocked that it didn’t even hurt. Neither parent had ever laid a hand on me.
‘Ma!’
‘How could you? How could you! Do you have any idea what we’ve gone through? Your father is at the police station right now trying to get a search party organized. We thought you were dead! How could you do this to us?!’
Do to them? I was the victim, the one who deserved the apology. ‘You’re acting like this is my fault!’
‘Isn’t it? No? Whose fault is it then?’
‘Well I wouldn’t have had to run away if you didn’t make us come here. You never even gave me the chance to have a say. You treated me like a child, and I’m not a child.’
‘I made you come here?’ Her face took on a dangerous shade of puce. ‘We’re here because it’s the only place your father could find a job. Do you think I wanted to move? Do you think I relished the idea of leaving all our friends, of having to make a home here for us?’
‘Then why did you?’
‘Because that’s what adults do. They make choices they don’t necessarily want to make because it’s the right thing to do. I suggest that if you want to be treated like an adult, you start acting like one.’
‘Fine.’
‘Fine.’
‘I’m going over to Jim’s.’
‘You’re not going anywhere. You’re grounded.’
‘For how long?’
‘Until you’re eighteen.’
So, confined to the borders of my yard I manufactured distractions wherever I found the opportunity. In particular I eavesdropped on the goings–on next door. Our dining room faced Jim’s across ten yards of grass and his Nan liked to digest a little of her grandson’s self–esteem with her morning coffee. They could have closed their windows but in that Indian summer, fresh air beat privacy by a mile.
Jim sounded ready to cry. ‘It wasn’t even bawdy!’
‘I don’t care one whit what you were singing. What will the neighbors say?’
‘I’m sorry Nan. May and I–’
‘What that girl does is her parents’ concern. You were raised better than to carry on the way you did, caterwauling on the front lawn. Jim. You know how important our dignity is, don’t you? Please don’t embarrass me again.’
‘Sorry Nan.’
Due to my incarceration I had to save my commentary for our morning walks to school.
I should have held my tongue on the subject of Jim’s Nan, but her bullying got my dander up.
‘You just don’t understand her is all,’ Jim spat back.
‘What’s not to understand? You’re hardly allowed out of the house.’
‘You’re one to talk.’
‘Jim, I’m grounded for–’
‘Doing something stupid?’
‘Suit yourself. At least it’s not a way of life for me. And why would she yell at you just for singing? Aren’t you even allowed to sing your own school’s fight song?’
‘Not at the top of my lungs on the porch. Look, she just has notions about how people are supposed to act in public, that’s all. She grew up in the old days. Back then, well–raised boys and girls didn’t carry on.’
‘That’s your Nan talking. Doesn’t it bother you to be stitched up so tight all the time? I think it’s crazy.’
‘No, it doesn’t bother me. And you should talk about crazy, with your parents.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘They’re practically communists.’
I wheeled on him. ‘Who told you that?’
‘It’s obvious. All that talk about rights and such. So don’t blow your top at me. You’re the one who brought it up.’
‘We’re not talking about my parents, we’re talking about your Nan.’
‘Well, I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. She’s a good Christian lady. She raised me and I don’t want for anything.’
I didn’t believe him but I left him alone. We had all the time in the world to argue about it, for my parents’ punishment wasn’t as effective as they’d have wished. By applying my own brand of logic I decided that
‘You’re lying.’
‘Says you.’
She slapped me, hard, across the face. I was so shocked that it didn’t even hurt. Neither parent had ever laid a hand on me.
‘Ma!’
‘How could you? How could you! Do you have any idea what we’ve gone through? Your father is at the police station right now trying to get a search party organized. We thought you were dead! How could you do this to us?!’
Do to them? I was the victim, the one who deserved the apology. ‘You’re acting like this is my fault!’
‘Isn’t it? No? Whose fault is it then?’
‘Well I wouldn’t have had to run away if you didn’t make us come here. You never even gave me the chance to have a say. You treated me like a child, and I’m not a child.’
‘I made you come here?’ Her face took on a dangerous shade of puce. ‘We’re here because it’s the only place your father could find a job. Do you think I wanted to move? Do you think I relished the idea of leaving all our friends, of having to make a home here for us?’
‘Then why did you?’
‘Because that’s what adults do. They make choices they don’t necessarily want to make because it’s the right thing to do. I suggest that if you want to be treated like an adult, you start acting like one.’
‘Fine.’
‘Fine.’
‘I’m going over to Jim’s.’
‘You’re not going anywhere. You’re grounded.’
‘For how long?’
‘Until you’re eighteen.’
So, confined to the borders of my yard I manufactured distractions wherever I found the opportunity. In particular I eavesdropped on the goings–on next door. Our dining room faced Jim’s across ten yards of grass and his Nan liked to digest a little of her grandson’s self–esteem with her morning coffee. They could have closed their windows but in that Indian summer, fresh air beat privacy by a mile.
Jim sounded ready to cry. ‘It wasn’t even bawdy!’
‘I don’t care one whit what you were singing. What will the neighbors say?’
‘I’m sorry Nan. May and I–’
‘What that girl does is her parents’ concern. You were raised better than to carry on the way you did, caterwauling on the front lawn. Jim. You know how important our dignity is, don’t you? Please don’t embarrass me again.’
‘Sorry Nan.’
Due to my incarceration I had to save my commentary for our morning walks to school.
I should have held my tongue on the subject of Jim’s Nan, but her bullying got my dander up.
‘You just don’t understand her is all,’ Jim spat back.
‘What’s not to understand? You’re hardly allowed out of the house.’
‘You’re one to talk.’
‘Jim, I’m grounded for–’
‘Doing something stupid?’
‘Suit yourself. At least it’s not a way of life for me. And why would she yell at you just for singing? Aren’t you even allowed to sing your own school’s fight song?’
‘Not at the top of my lungs on the porch. Look, she just has notions about how people are supposed to act in public, that’s all. She grew up in the old days. Back then, well–raised boys and girls didn’t carry on.’
‘That’s your Nan talking. Doesn’t it bother you to be stitched up so tight all the time? I think it’s crazy.’
‘No, it doesn’t bother me. And you should talk about crazy, with your parents.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘They’re practically communists.’
I wheeled on him. ‘Who told you that?’
‘It’s obvious. All that talk about rights and such. So don’t blow your top at me. You’re the one who brought it up.’
‘We’re not talking about my parents, we’re talking about your Nan.’
‘Well, I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. She’s a good Christian lady. She raised me and I don’t want for anything.’
I didn’t believe him but I left him alone. We had all the time in the world to argue about it, for my parents’ punishment wasn’t as effective as they’d have wished. By applying my own brand of logic I decided that
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