Circumstances 24

Mom turned away from me.  I should have been embarrassed, showing her my all, but I wasn’t.  I was furious.  I walked around so she’d see me again.  See my almost concave stomach, my visible ribs, my tube-like legs and arms.  Even my small appendage.  “Look at me,” I yelled, and she did.  “Yeah, that’s me.  Some man, huh?!” 

Then I picked up my clothes and went upstairs.  I slumped down on my bed and my emotions took over and I began crying.  Damn, I hate that.

Why couldn’t I have a mother like Gary had?

The next day, I didn’t wear a shirt to breakfast.  The bruise on my stomach looked worse now.  She probably saw what I was trying to do and left as soon as she could.  But, when she got home, I took the shirt off again and made a point of being around her.  I think she got the point.  Telling me to fight four guys, any one of whom could annihilate me, was crazy.  What I needed was her support, not her criticism or contempt.

I told her the names of three of the four kids, and got her to call the police.  They sent a woman officer to the house, and we filed a report.  I showed her the bruise, and she took a picture of it.  I decided it wouldn’t do any good to tell the school.  I’d have to tell Mr. Johnson, and he’d get a good chuckle out of it, then tell me it didn’t happen on school grounds so he was out of it.  Giving Mr. Johnson a good laugh wasn’t on my to-do list for the day.

Telling the police probably wouldn’t help either, as the boys would deny it.  But at least there’d be a record of the complaint.

I guess my mom got tired of seeing my body.  I was surprised when she went to the phone, looked up the names of the boys who’d attacked me, and called their parents.  I didn’t think she’d do that without my asking her to.

So I was feeling pretty good about having made a point to her about what I had to put up with, and getting her more on my side.  I thought I’d done a good job of getting her to give me just a little more respect until, on Monday morning, I found she’d forgotten to give me lunch money again.

I met Gary before lunch and he leant me another couple of dollars.  I was getting in the hole with him and would have to get some money from my mother to pay him back soon.  He never seemed to mind, however.  He actually seemed to like helping me. 

That week certainly was better than the previous one.  Kids were still staring at me but I wasn’t the center of everything.  A kid got caught in the bathroom jacking off.  Another kid got expelled for hitting a teacher.  A cheerleader split her panties at a pep rally and a lot of people saw what a polite girl never lets anyone see.  I was now old news.  I was just another kid something had happened to.  Things change pretty fast in high school.

I spent time after school with Gary every day.  I rode home on the bus with him, and his mother drove me home.  She even met my mother once when she’d come home early.  Spending time with Gary was great.  I guess friendships can grow pretty fast when you’re our age.  In less than two weeks, he was the best friend I’d ever had. 

I saw Mr. Johnson in the halls a couple of times.  He glared at me when he spotted me.  I had little doubt that if he could, he’d nail me to the wall.  I wasn’t too worried, though.  I wasn’t someone who got in trouble much.  Only if circumstances dictated it, and last week I’d had enough circumstances to last a lifetime.  Enough to tide me over for a while, that was for sure.

My mom forgot my lunch money again on Wednesday, and I had to borrow from Gary again.  That evening, I decided to face her down about it.

She was cross at dinner, which told me she’d had a hard day.  I usually steered clear of her when she was in a mood like that, but this time, I didn’t.

When the dishes were done and she was ready to go into her home office where she worked on papers she hadn’t finished during her regular job hours downtown, I stopped her.

“Mom, do you realize you forget to leave me lunch money at least a couple of times every week?  Do you realize I have to borrow money to eat those days?  Or that I often go without lunch?  I used to miss lunch a lot.”

She was immediately on the offensive.  “Are you saying it’s my fault if you don’t eat?  Nonsense!  Just get up a little earlier so you have time to make yourself a lunch if I forget.  Dammit, Keith, I’ve got a lot on my mind, and you’re old enough to figure this stuff out by yourself without whining to me about it!”

I knew I had to stay calm.  This was the way she’d always argued with Dad, putting him on the defensive.  He wasn’t around any more, and in my opinion she was mostly to blame for that.  I wasn’t going to play her game.  I wasn’t going to let every mistake she made become my fault.

“Mom, I’m sure there’s a name for an argument that changes the subject and isn’t on point.  I don’t know what that name is, but you’re doing it.  You’re supposed to leave me money.  You said you don’t trust me with a week’s lunch money, which is ridiculous as it’s only ten dollars.  But because of that, you don’t give it to me in advance, and then you forget it altogether, and now you’re trying to say it’s my problem to solve.  OK, I’m solving it.  I’m telling you to leave me the money every morning.  If you don’t, you’re not doing your job as a mother.  Do you want me to start taking my shirt off again so you can see how someone looks who doesn’t get enough to eat?”

Now she was mad.  She didn’t like not having the upper hand, or being blamed for anything.  Her voice was louder now, and her face redder.  “You’re not responsible enough to have the money in advance.”

“How do you know that?” I said back, speaking just as loudly as she was, even though I hated yelling.  “You just like being in control, and doling out money a little bit at a time is another way of controlling me.  A good mother would allow her son to grow up and show her how responsible he is.  If you give me the money in advance, and I lose it, then I can’t blame you if I don’t eat.  But this way, it’s your fault.”

“It’s not my fault!” she snapped.  “Just get up earlier!”

“Just give me the money in advance!  And how about an allowance, too?  Most kids my age get allowances, especially if they do chores like I do.  It’s not my fault you’re never home.”  I saw how mad she was, and decided to go for broke.  “Or don’t make enough money to give me an allowance.”

That got to her!  She opened her mouth to continue, but I could tell, she wasn’t used to having to defend herself and was caught badly off guard.  I jumped in again, taking the anger out of my voice and speaking practically.  “Just give me ten dollars every Sunday night.  That’s all you have to do.  And I won’t starve or have to borrow money two or three times a week.”

I could see she wanted to argue more; she didn’t like losing, but I again interrupted her before she could start.  “You’re not going to win this.  You’re in the wrong, and I’m in the right, and you know it.  So, give me four dollars tonight for tomorrow and Friday, and then Sunday give me ten dollars.  Oh, and another eight that I owe my friends, who think we must be awfully poor since I don’t have lunch money so frequently.  Just give me a twenty, if you don’t have the right change.”

She was steaming, but when I was in my room, later, she came in, dropped four dollars on my desk, and walked out again without saying a word.

Victory!  Well, maybe.  I’d see if I had to remind her Sunday.