“What was the worst thing she ever did to you?”
He sighed and move to lay his head on her lap. “That’s a full question, I’m not sure what takes the title.” And yet, as he spoke a specific moment came to mind.
It was a Thursday afternoon and it was parent-teacher conference at school. I had straight A’s in every class, worked my ass off for them to get away from her, except for math which I was flunking. My teacher made me take a letter home to her letting her know her presence was mandatory that night or there would need to be measures taken to ensure a meeting took place with the principal. I dreaded it but I gave it to her, and she beat the shit out of me that night with her belt, another fucking day in her control. But she agreed, I’d wager only because she wanted me out of her hair and didn’t want me to flunk out of school.
The day came, and I came home to an empty motel room. That wasn’t usual, she was always home until she knew I was home and then she left. I was worried but quite frankly I was glad. An hour before we would’ve had to leave, she shows up and she’s obviously not in a good shape. She wore a professional outfit, slacks, white button down shirt and a blazer. She fucking looked like someone who gave a shit, except when you noticed she was shaking, vigorously. She walked in, went straight for the sink and puked her guts up.
Turns out, she decided the day of conferences was a good day to go broke on clothes and not afford her coke. She was going through withdrawal, and it was rather obvious. When she met my math teacher, she simply told her to go fuck herself and teach better because her son couldn’t possibly be a dumbass when he’s excelling in his other classes. Bless that lady’s soul, she knew in seconds my mother was a junkie and didn’t say anything except that she’d try harder. And for my four years in that school, she spent hours afterschool on her own time, teaching me the basic math I never learned and made sure I aced my math classes.
Except, that night my mother decided her son was a dumbass. And she threw me into her car, told me I was going to love the surprise she had. And she fucking left me with her drug dealer, as payment, to do whatever he wanted … for some blow.
As he told the story, he shook with fear from reliving these memories. She merely held his hand and eventually enveloped her arms around him and held him tight.
"It's over. And she's not here. You're okay, I've got you."
It didn’t give him false hope, but rather it made him feel loved. Merely because someone cared enough to stick around despite his bad days.
