Life for me hasn’t always been a bed of roses. I am Wesley Roberts. I was born to a loving family.
My father Alex is a hard working man. Who spends a lot of time out in the fields supporting my Mom, Andrea and I.
We are a close family. Dad taught me all the things that boy should know, like how to fish, how to play catch and the value of a hard day’s work.
Mom was your typical doting mother. She was always in the kitchen cooking something. The smell of fresh apple pie was enough to drive any man crazy. She helped me with my homework and she would play outside with me when I asked.
Life as I knew it was great. We lived off the land, Mom and Dad were in love with each other and they loved me. I thought nothing could ever happen to us. Boy was I wrong.
Mom became pregnant when I was 6 years old. We were all so excited to have a little one on the way. Imagine, I could have a little brother. He would do everything I asked him to, he would idolize me because I was older and smarter. Having a sister wouldn’t be bad. I wouldn’t let no body hurt her and if they did they would have to deal with big brother.
Anyway, Mom’s pregnancy was going well. We continued our lives, fishing, playing ball and just having fun. The big day was finally here. Mom was having a nap, because her back was killing her. She woke up to a sharp pain in her abdomen. “Honey, it’s time”, she said. Dad, he was funny. He was jumping up and down, “What do we need, towels, and hot water? Work with me here people!” he finally got it under control and delivered our newest member of the family, Levi a bouncing baby boy.
He was beautiful, can you call boys beautiful? Well Mom did. Dad quickly went to work cleaning Levi up and then put him in his crib for a nap. He went back in the bedroom to check on Ma. She didn’t look well at all.
I was afraid for her because she got all pale. Dad quickly told me to get out and go play outside. I didn’t want to go play, I wanted to stay with my mom, but he insisted. You don’t argue with Dad. Well, she didn’t make it. She died that night.
How can such a happy day, turn out so crappy? Pardon my language.
Dad took it the hardest. He cried and cried. It was kind of scary to see this man that is supposed to be so strong weep like a child.
I cried too, I wanted my mom back. He hugged me and tried to tell me it was going to be alright, but really, how can it be? We were all alone. The three of us guys. How was dad supposed to take care of us and still make a living?
That night we buried Mom under the apple tree. I thought she might be happy there. We said our tearful goodbyes and went to bed. Dad let me stay with him; I think he needed me as much as I did him.
My nightmares were answered. When news got to my Aunt Gretchen about Mom’s death she came over to offer her “help”.
To make matters worse she brought along my cousin, Ezekiel. These two are both bad apples.
Ezekiel was always making fun of me. “You’re nothing but a little crybaby. Waahhh I want my mommy. Waaahhh!” He would take my toys and hide them in the dirt outside.
Most days Dad was still too upset to do much in the fields. Most of the crops had started to die.
He just didn’t have the will to do anything at all. He would still talk to me to make sure I was holding up okay.
The months seemed to drag on for me. Dad had gotten back to the work grind. I guess it gave him something else to think about. He did repairs around the house as well and was becoming quite the handyman.
I went to school. I didn’t have many friends, a few of the neighborhood kids would chat with me at recess. Most days after homework was done, I’d go find a spot where it was nice a quiet and just think about how my life has come to this point. It was always nice out here with no one to yell at me or make fun of me.
Of course when it got dark I would have to go back. I always dreaded that house now. Gretchen was an evil witch. You know those stories about the “Wicked” stepmother? Well, this was her. Only in living flesh. She yelled when I tracked mud in the house, when my clothes got dirty and if I didn’t finish my chores.
Not even my dad was safe from her barrage. She criticized him being too lax on me. “The boy needs discipline,” she’d say constantly. Her idea of discipline was military school.
I hate my life. I hate what this woman has done to my family. Sometimes I wish I could just run away from it all…
No comments:
Post a Comment