Thirteen
It wasn’t her fault; she wasn’t even born yet. Yet somehow it was easier for me just to blame everything on a little sister that I never even gave a chance to. It’s amazing how life seemed so fine and dare I say “normal” one day, but by the time Mom left for work it seemed as though my life was ruined. Some memories are left in our minds so vividly that they will stay with us forever despite our attempts of trying to forget them. One of those memories that remains with me is the night my mom asked me, “How would you like another little brother or sister?”
As I laid on my stomach in front of the TV, thirteen years old and completely taken by surprise, I replied the first thought that came to mind, “I wouldn’t,” and turned my head from my mom who was nervously sitting on the recliner where she always sat to put her shoes on before she went to work, and continued watching the Monday Night Football game. My mom was 38 years old; I didn’t think she was pregnant, I just thought she was thinking of having another kid for some unknown reason. But before I could fix my attention to the game again, my mom said my name in a voice that rattled me. There was pain and a little joy in her voice, but it was awkward. Never before had I had a serious conversation with my mom about grown up things before.
She said to me, “Mark, turn around, I want to talk to you about this. “Mark”, she said, I’m going to have a baby in a few months, how do you feel about that?
I was speechless, absolutely nothing came to mind. I had nothing to say, I didn’t know what to think. After a moment of silence, I decided to deny the whole thing. “ Are you sure, how do you know?"
" I took a home test and it said I was going to be a mommy again.”
"But maybe it’s wrong, did you see a doctor?"
"No, not yet, I will soon though."
"Then you don’t know anything yet then."
I must have sounded so immature at that moment. Here my mom was trying to break the news to me that she was going to have a baby, and I was making her feel terrible about it. I got angry at my mom, I don’t know why but for some reason, when I was thirteen years old it must not of been cool to have a 38 year old mom who was pregnant. It was obviously an accident. I never wanted to imagine my parents having sex but that night I was forced to. My youngest sister was already eight years old and I just figured our family was already the way it was going to be.
My mom left for work that night to her plastics factory job just like every night, only I think she left with a tear in her eye because her oldest son was not going to make this easy for her. I said good bye but left out the hug, I love you have a good night bit, and went straight to my room where I tried to go to sleep so I could just forget about the events of the night.
Days, weeks went by, and the relationship I had with my mom declined. I talked very little to her, only when I needed something; lunch money, a parent's signature on a form for school, money for basketball shoes. Never did it seem like we talked about anything important; things parents and their kids talk about. I remember her trying so desperately hard to get me to open up. She would ask me everyday how my day was, and I would throw my books down and sternly say “fine!”
That is until the kids at school found out my mom was pregnant. I wasn’t always with the “cool” clique at school. I had my moments but not consistent enough to the point where anyone would understand that it wasn’t my fault. There was nothing I could do about it so why were they so cruel to me? The more my mom began to show it seemed the worse the harassment got. I know my mom sensed how upset I was but I was standing ignorant to my guns. I wasn’t going to let her know how I felt because that’s what she wanted. Instead I bottled all the shit up inside me, both at home and at school until one day when I just couldn’t stand it any more. It just got so old, listening to the same fat ass ask me if I got my mom pregnant on my way to 7th period English class. I’m not kidding, everyday for 3 weeks this fat ass gave me shit and everyday I ignored him. Not really though because as the 3rd week started, I began to get tears and would walk into class with my eyes all glassy. Each day was worse than the previous, except for Friday. I couldn’t take any more of Fatass’s repulsive remarks. I walked by myself as usual to English class, only as Fatass waited for me by the steps so he could say what he would as I walked past, I snapped. As soon as he got that shitty smile he got everyday when he saw me coming; right before words came out of his mouth; at the slightest quiver in his lip as though he was about to say “Mark." He never even got his lips together to pronounce my name before I threw my books and swung as hard as I could landing the most solid roundhouse, right fisted haymaker anyone at Glandorf Elementary had ever seen. I caught Fatass straight in the jaw, sending him down the flight of stairs, where I pursued to leap the entire flight, landing feet first on his gut. I felt the air escape from his body and it felt good. I remember screaming at him, taking all my aggression out on his ugly fat face. Left after left, right after right, the poor bastard didn’t have a chance of getting me off him. Not until I had bloodied his face and broke his ribs did I stop punching. It’s amazing no one heard us yelling, but it was downstairs in what we called the dungeon, so it worked out well for me. After I realized he wasn’t going to fight back, I got off him and walked straight out the front doors of the school covered in Fat ass’s blood and my tears.
Shaking and crying out of control I power walked as fast as I could to my house. But before I could get there, my English teacher who saw me walk past his class on my way out of the school, pulled up next to me in his Oldsmobile. I thought I was going to be in some very deep shit at that point but I didn’t care, I just kept walking. I kept walking, and before I knew it my English teacher was walking with me, he walked the rest of the way home with me. About half way home, Mr. Williams asked, “So you feel like talkin?”
“I don’t know, I don’t really have anything to say.”
“Okay, you don’t have to say anything.”
We walked a while and I decided to break the silence. “So am I in trouble or what?”
“Well, you never came to class this afternoon and last time I checked, I don’t think beating up a student and skipping class was allowed, but I could be wrong.”
I looked at Mr. Williams and he smiled. “So I guess this means that I’m going to be in trouble when Principal Brinkman finds out about this.”
“I think Principal Brinkman already knows. He’s covering our class right now. I told him what happened and asked if I could go after you alone.”
“You did. Why?”
“Because I know how you feel. I saw what Matt was doing but instead of barging in your business, I left it up for you to handle. Are you mad that I let that happen?
I thought about it for a while. I was mad at first but then I thought about it some more and realized why Mr. Williams let Fatass tease me all that time. It was because, as he put it, “it took a tough man to accept all that teasing without punching his lights out. You have a lot of character Mark, if your mother knew what Matt said to you all those times and you didn’t hit him, she would be very proud of you.”
I looked at Mr. Williams sternly because he had brought my mom into this conversation. I had not even thought about my mom since we started talking. I thought about how mad I was and how bad I wanted to go hit Fattass again. I also remember thinking why Mr. Williams asked Principal Brinkman to come after me alone. It really had me puzzled.
“Just keep my mom out of this alright.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad. Is that a sore topic for you?”
“I said keep my mom out of it!”
“You know Mark, I’m not going to try to bring you back to school, because I know that it is the last place that you want to be right now, anyway, Principal Brinkman instructed me to pick you up and bring you home and tell your parents about what happened. I’m going to let you tell them, and you will tell them won’t you?”
“I’m not going to have any choice, there’s my mom looking out the window right now probably wondering why the hell I’m not in school and my teacher is walking beside me.” Yeah, I’ll tell em.”
“Alright then.”
“Hey Mark by the way, remember what I said about how it takes a tough man to walk away from a fight?”
“Yeah.”
“It takes a foolish man to walk away from his mother.” And he turned and started walking back to his car.
I’d like to say that things were better with my mom after this, but they weren’t. In fact, it wasn’t until the day my little sister came home from the hospital that I even cared to see my mom or my sister. When the rest of my family went to the hospital to visit them I lied and said I had basketball practice and couldn’t go. But the day finally came when I had to face the truth, and that was the day they came home from the hospital. I had managed to hang low all day, despite all the guests talking with mom as she rocked the baby. I stayed clear all day until I came down from my room to get a drink. It was dark when I opened the door to the living room from my room, so I figured everyone was sleeping. I walked through the living room to the kitchen and flipped the light on. I remember thinking to myself that it was wrong that I didn’t even talk to my mom or hold my sister all day. After I flipped the kitchen light off and was about to open the door to the stairway, my mom turned the lamp beside the recliner on, startling me. I turned to her as she held her child; she was absolutely exhausted. She said she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about me. With no expression in her face, she simply asked me: “Do you want to hold your little sister?”
I told my mom that I was too tired and I was going to bed. But before I could get up the stairs my mom said with that mother’s voice that you cannot ignore, “Mark, I want you to hold your sister.”
“All right." I managed to spit out as thousands of emotions raced through my body. My mom stood up and I sat down in the same recliner she was in the night she asked me how I would like a little brother or sister. At that moment I remembered how I felt that particular night, and then for the first time I wondered how she must have felt. Before I collected my thoughts, my mom had placed my baby sister in my arms. I looked up at my mom as I sat rocking my sister. My mom's face was filled with exhaustion most of all, but just enough happiness shined through to make me think. I looked at my baby sister and it finally occurred to me. My mom stood watching with tears rolling down her cheeks and I began to cry. I was so embarrassed and felt so much shame that I couldn’t stop crying until my mom comforted me with a hug and said “You know what Mark, Amy looks just like you did when we brought you home from the hospital.”
As I laid on my stomach in front of the TV, thirteen years old and completely taken by surprise, I replied the first thought that came to mind, “I wouldn’t,” and turned my head from my mom who was nervously sitting on the recliner where she always sat to put her shoes on before she went to work, and continued watching the Monday Night Football game. My mom was 38 years old; I didn’t think she was pregnant, I just thought she was thinking of having another kid for some unknown reason. But before I could fix my attention to the game again, my mom said my name in a voice that rattled me. There was pain and a little joy in her voice, but it was awkward. Never before had I had a serious conversation with my mom about grown up things before.
She said to me, “Mark, turn around, I want to talk to you about this. “Mark”, she said, I’m going to have a baby in a few months, how do you feel about that?
I was speechless, absolutely nothing came to mind. I had nothing to say, I didn’t know what to think. After a moment of silence, I decided to deny the whole thing. “ Are you sure, how do you know?"
" I took a home test and it said I was going to be a mommy again.”
"But maybe it’s wrong, did you see a doctor?"
"No, not yet, I will soon though."
"Then you don’t know anything yet then."
I must have sounded so immature at that moment. Here my mom was trying to break the news to me that she was going to have a baby, and I was making her feel terrible about it. I got angry at my mom, I don’t know why but for some reason, when I was thirteen years old it must not of been cool to have a 38 year old mom who was pregnant. It was obviously an accident. I never wanted to imagine my parents having sex but that night I was forced to. My youngest sister was already eight years old and I just figured our family was already the way it was going to be.
My mom left for work that night to her plastics factory job just like every night, only I think she left with a tear in her eye because her oldest son was not going to make this easy for her. I said good bye but left out the hug, I love you have a good night bit, and went straight to my room where I tried to go to sleep so I could just forget about the events of the night.
Days, weeks went by, and the relationship I had with my mom declined. I talked very little to her, only when I needed something; lunch money, a parent's signature on a form for school, money for basketball shoes. Never did it seem like we talked about anything important; things parents and their kids talk about. I remember her trying so desperately hard to get me to open up. She would ask me everyday how my day was, and I would throw my books down and sternly say “fine!”
That is until the kids at school found out my mom was pregnant. I wasn’t always with the “cool” clique at school. I had my moments but not consistent enough to the point where anyone would understand that it wasn’t my fault. There was nothing I could do about it so why were they so cruel to me? The more my mom began to show it seemed the worse the harassment got. I know my mom sensed how upset I was but I was standing ignorant to my guns. I wasn’t going to let her know how I felt because that’s what she wanted. Instead I bottled all the shit up inside me, both at home and at school until one day when I just couldn’t stand it any more. It just got so old, listening to the same fat ass ask me if I got my mom pregnant on my way to 7th period English class. I’m not kidding, everyday for 3 weeks this fat ass gave me shit and everyday I ignored him. Not really though because as the 3rd week started, I began to get tears and would walk into class with my eyes all glassy. Each day was worse than the previous, except for Friday. I couldn’t take any more of Fatass’s repulsive remarks. I walked by myself as usual to English class, only as Fatass waited for me by the steps so he could say what he would as I walked past, I snapped. As soon as he got that shitty smile he got everyday when he saw me coming; right before words came out of his mouth; at the slightest quiver in his lip as though he was about to say “Mark." He never even got his lips together to pronounce my name before I threw my books and swung as hard as I could landing the most solid roundhouse, right fisted haymaker anyone at Glandorf Elementary had ever seen. I caught Fatass straight in the jaw, sending him down the flight of stairs, where I pursued to leap the entire flight, landing feet first on his gut. I felt the air escape from his body and it felt good. I remember screaming at him, taking all my aggression out on his ugly fat face. Left after left, right after right, the poor bastard didn’t have a chance of getting me off him. Not until I had bloodied his face and broke his ribs did I stop punching. It’s amazing no one heard us yelling, but it was downstairs in what we called the dungeon, so it worked out well for me. After I realized he wasn’t going to fight back, I got off him and walked straight out the front doors of the school covered in Fat ass’s blood and my tears.
Shaking and crying out of control I power walked as fast as I could to my house. But before I could get there, my English teacher who saw me walk past his class on my way out of the school, pulled up next to me in his Oldsmobile. I thought I was going to be in some very deep shit at that point but I didn’t care, I just kept walking. I kept walking, and before I knew it my English teacher was walking with me, he walked the rest of the way home with me. About half way home, Mr. Williams asked, “So you feel like talkin?”
“I don’t know, I don’t really have anything to say.”
“Okay, you don’t have to say anything.”
We walked a while and I decided to break the silence. “So am I in trouble or what?”
“Well, you never came to class this afternoon and last time I checked, I don’t think beating up a student and skipping class was allowed, but I could be wrong.”
I looked at Mr. Williams and he smiled. “So I guess this means that I’m going to be in trouble when Principal Brinkman finds out about this.”
“I think Principal Brinkman already knows. He’s covering our class right now. I told him what happened and asked if I could go after you alone.”
“You did. Why?”
“Because I know how you feel. I saw what Matt was doing but instead of barging in your business, I left it up for you to handle. Are you mad that I let that happen?
I thought about it for a while. I was mad at first but then I thought about it some more and realized why Mr. Williams let Fatass tease me all that time. It was because, as he put it, “it took a tough man to accept all that teasing without punching his lights out. You have a lot of character Mark, if your mother knew what Matt said to you all those times and you didn’t hit him, she would be very proud of you.”
I looked at Mr. Williams sternly because he had brought my mom into this conversation. I had not even thought about my mom since we started talking. I thought about how mad I was and how bad I wanted to go hit Fattass again. I also remember thinking why Mr. Williams asked Principal Brinkman to come after me alone. It really had me puzzled.
“Just keep my mom out of this alright.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad. Is that a sore topic for you?”
“I said keep my mom out of it!”
“You know Mark, I’m not going to try to bring you back to school, because I know that it is the last place that you want to be right now, anyway, Principal Brinkman instructed me to pick you up and bring you home and tell your parents about what happened. I’m going to let you tell them, and you will tell them won’t you?”
“I’m not going to have any choice, there’s my mom looking out the window right now probably wondering why the hell I’m not in school and my teacher is walking beside me.” Yeah, I’ll tell em.”
“Alright then.”
“Hey Mark by the way, remember what I said about how it takes a tough man to walk away from a fight?”
“Yeah.”
“It takes a foolish man to walk away from his mother.” And he turned and started walking back to his car.
I’d like to say that things were better with my mom after this, but they weren’t. In fact, it wasn’t until the day my little sister came home from the hospital that I even cared to see my mom or my sister. When the rest of my family went to the hospital to visit them I lied and said I had basketball practice and couldn’t go. But the day finally came when I had to face the truth, and that was the day they came home from the hospital. I had managed to hang low all day, despite all the guests talking with mom as she rocked the baby. I stayed clear all day until I came down from my room to get a drink. It was dark when I opened the door to the living room from my room, so I figured everyone was sleeping. I walked through the living room to the kitchen and flipped the light on. I remember thinking to myself that it was wrong that I didn’t even talk to my mom or hold my sister all day. After I flipped the kitchen light off and was about to open the door to the stairway, my mom turned the lamp beside the recliner on, startling me. I turned to her as she held her child; she was absolutely exhausted. She said she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about me. With no expression in her face, she simply asked me: “Do you want to hold your little sister?”
I told my mom that I was too tired and I was going to bed. But before I could get up the stairs my mom said with that mother’s voice that you cannot ignore, “Mark, I want you to hold your sister.”
“All right." I managed to spit out as thousands of emotions raced through my body. My mom stood up and I sat down in the same recliner she was in the night she asked me how I would like a little brother or sister. At that moment I remembered how I felt that particular night, and then for the first time I wondered how she must have felt. Before I collected my thoughts, my mom had placed my baby sister in my arms. I looked up at my mom as I sat rocking my sister. My mom's face was filled with exhaustion most of all, but just enough happiness shined through to make me think. I looked at my baby sister and it finally occurred to me. My mom stood watching with tears rolling down her cheeks and I began to cry. I was so embarrassed and felt so much shame that I couldn’t stop crying until my mom comforted me with a hug and said “You know what Mark, Amy looks just like you did when we brought you home from the hospital.”
posted by ink_86 at 4:21 PM
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