I wanted to do something special for her birthday next weekend and had been trying to think of what I could do that wouldn’t be too expensive but would also show her that I cared. I decided that I’d work on writing her a verse about friendship and how grateful I was that we were friends. It would sort of be like me saying sweet things, even if it was etched in pen rather than my voice. She also loved this little old school coffee shop diner close to campus, so maybe I could take her there fordinner.
I was checking out my upcoming schedule for work, classes, and baseball practice when an email notification came over. I groaned and swore when I saw that it was mymom.
Baby,
Please come home this weekend. I’m having some friends over, and they’d love to see you. Loveya.
I was pissed and shoved my chair away from the desk and tried to rid myself of the feeling that the nauseating email had left. I decided to ignoreit.
Two days later, I got another email with the same type of request, and I did something that made me hate myself; I considered it. Stacked on top of me trying to save money from work so I could pay for school next year, was the pressure of Tiffany’s birthday. Between classes and baseball eating up my time, the hours that I was available to work weresparse.
I thought about telling her I’d come over as long as I got to keep some of the money. It would be on Saturday, and I’d get some money to take Tiffany to dinner on Sunday for herbirthday.
But could I walk into that? I hated the way I’d feel after. During it too. But if I started to use it to my benefit, surely, I could deal with it. I considered it for the next few days and hated myself for sending back the email. I decided that the money would be worth it. All I had to do was just shut everything off in my mind while it was going on, then it shouldn’t be sobad.
Mom,
I’ll come over Saturday for three hours on one condition; I get to keep half of themoney.
I went to class, feeling like shit. As I sat through biology, I tried to reason with myself to make it soundokay.
“Just pretend it’s like old times when you didn’t have a voice,” I told myself as I packed my book and notebook in mybackpack.
But it almost seemed worse because I did have a voice and was an adult now. On the walk from class to my place, I pondered what my mom’s reaction would be to my email, or if she’d even respond atall.
When I got home, I booted up the old computer in the living room that Skyler said I could use. There, staring at me was an email fromher.
Baby,
You have some nerve trying to take my money. Do you know how hard things are for me? Your father is gone, thanks to you, and your brother can’t hold a damn job. He can’t even make it to a first paycheck with anyone. But he knows what is important, unlike you. He is still turning some of your old videos into cash. But if you’re going to be a little asshole and think you’re entitled to some of the money that I’m arranging to be made, then I’ll give you some. See you tomorrow,baby.
My stomach hurt after reading it. She was still that delusional. To keep my mind off of my mom and what I agreed to do, I worked on finalizing the gift forTiffany.
I stared at the verse I had written this week for Tiffany. I had changed parts up and re-worded things several times. I even scoured the internet for romantic ways to present it. I wrote it in my best penmanship and cut the paper into the shape of a heart. On sketch paper, I drew a heart and cut out a gash to make it look like a tear in the heart. I frayed the inside edges of the tear in the heart and with some black thread, I stitched the sketched drawing of the heart on top of my handwritten verse. I held it in my hands and admired my work. Part of the verse was visible beyond the tear. I wanted to show her that even though I was quiet and didn’t share too much, that I could still be romantic and say sweetthings.
I went to bed feeling a mix of worry and excitement. I was excited and eager to give Tiffany the heart and verse. But first, I had to see my mom and her “friends.” I held my hand over my stomach until the wee hours of the morning until my body finally forced me tosleep.
Saturday morning brought actual nausea. After I threw up, I quickly got ready to go home for a few hours of stupidity fueled by greed and a chance to take Tiffany out for herbirthday.
I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I grabbed an energy drink from the fridge and drank it while I ate an apple on the way to the bus stop. I only thought of how stupid this was on the ride home and as I walked down the cracked sidewalk to the house. When all of the cars came into sight, along with my home, I felt sicker. But something positive would come of this; I would get some money for school after my scholarship runs out next semester, and I could do something for Tiffany. I had hoped it would be enough to show her that I was more than just adick.
Chad’s laughter could be heard from the porch. Fuck, he was here. I took a deep breath and stared at the hole in the screen door near the plastic handle. It’d been there for a long time and had only gotten bigger. I needed to get this over with and forced myselfinside.
“Hey, Ry! There you are,” Chad announced my arrival in his obnoxious tone. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him as if we were great friends. We stopped being friends many years ago. “Glad to hear you finally came around and agreed to come,” he said. “And we know you’ll come,” he shook me and laughed at his ownjoke.
I couldn’t believe I was voluntarily standing there. All I knew was that I needed some money, but I hated how I felt. I supposed it hadn’t mattered; it never matteredbefore.
I glanced around the room, taking notice of the women who lined the couches and dining chairs while my mother told them some fucked up story. In the corner was the video recorder and Chad’sgirlfriend.
“Chad used to cry like a little pussy when his father would beat his ass. He’d cry for his big brother,” Mom laughed hysterically; she sounded high. So high that she had mixed up our names again, but it was in myfavor.
“Yeah, Chad used to cry like a pussy,” I added and grinned atChad.
I could tell he was pissed. He huffed over to me and grabbed me by my shirt before decking me in the stomach. He had knocked the wind out of me, and it took me a moment to stand upright. I reminded myself that I chose to behere.
“Boys! Stop that shit right now!” Mom hissed at us. “Get out of the way Ryan, these ladies came to play with Chad’s college baseball body, not your lame out of shape ass that just got out of jail.” Mom shoved Chad out of the way and pushed him toward the videocamera.
“Mom! I’m Chad!” he tried correcting her, but it seemed to make herangrier.
