The Nomadic Life

Chapter Seven

Seriously?

When you are young and forced to make life-altering decisions in mere hours instead of days, there is no time to properly weigh your options. That is my reality at eighteen.

Two years on my own, juggling school, football practice, a full-time job, and trying to rein in a rebellious fourteen, almost fifteen-year-old, my life has settled into a comfortable routine. At last, I have my ducks in a row and can finally say I am making it on my own. What could go wrong?

And then, just like that, everything shatters.

It is November of 1980 when my mother walks into the restaurant where I work. I spot her the moment she steps through the door. She settles into a red vinyl booth near the kitchen, just close enough to make sure I know she is there. I try to ignore her, unwilling to face whatever she has come to say. Resentment still burns within me. I will never forgive her for letting her husband throw me out of his mother’s house two years ago. Even worse, for letting Junior follow me. Raising my younger brother was not supposed to be my responsibility, but she let it become mine. To this day, I cannot understand why she chose to make life harder for me than it already was.

“Lisa wants to talk to you,” Janice, one of the waitresses, says, her tone dripping with irritation.

“Tell her I’m busy,” I mutter, hoping she will just leave.

Janice folds her arms. “I’m a waitress, hon, not an intercom. Go talk to your mother.”

She has been like a second mother to me ever since my own failed in the role. Her firm voice leaves no room for argument. I sigh, wiping my hands on my apron as I walk over.

“What do you want?” I ask, not bothering to mask my frustration.

“Perry,” she hesitates. “I know things have been tough for you, and I understand why you're mad, but you have to understand…”

I stop her right there. “No, Mom, I don’t have to understand a damn thing. I am not upset because he threw me out of your house that night. I was glad to go. But you saddled me with an uncontrollable thirteen-year-old whose sole mission was to make my life a living hell. No, Mom, I do not have time, nor do I want to hear anything you have to say.”

And then the waterworks start and suddenly, everyone in the restaurant is watching.

“Mom, stop.” I reach for her hand. “You’re making a scene.”

“I have made a decision,” she says, ignoring my request between sobs.

 “One that has been long overdue.” She pauses.

“I left him,” she whispers.

I feel barely any emotions. No sympathy, no relief, just anger.

“And this affects me how?” I ask, my voice cold and sharp. “You’re leaving him, so what? Why should I care?”

“There’s more,” she says.

I do not respond. Instead, I slide out of the booth without looking at her, my anger boiling over. I do not care if the whole town is watching now.

I turn on my heel, ready to walk away.

“This concerns Roy Junior.”

Those words stop me dead in my tracks.

I spin around; certain she can see the fury in my eyes. Why is she dragging my little brother into this?

Tears well up in her eyes, and suddenly, she is crying again. Loud, attention-drawing sobs. The whole restaurant turns to watch.

Wiping her eyes with a tissue pulled from her sleeve, she announces, “I pulled Roy Junior out of school today.”

My entire body goes rigid. “You did what?” I seethe.

“You had no right. I’m his guardian. How dare you?” I have now lost complete control of my tone.

“You leave him and me out of this. You made your decision. I do not see what this has to do with Junior or why you removed him from school without my permission.”

“I need his help,” she sobs. “I cannot do this on my own.”

She takes a deep breath. “I need Junior’s help driving to Texas. Your older brother is coming to protect me and make sure your fath…” she catches herself. “That man doesn’t try to stop me. You know how mad and physical he gets when things don’t go his way. I’m no match for him, especially when he’s drunk, which is all the time now.”

With concern, my voice grows sharp. “You want Junior to keep you company while you drive hundreds of miles away? No. He has mid-terms coming up. He needs stability, not more uncertainty in his life. You’ll just have to go alone.”

“I can’t see well at night,” she argues. “Your older brother will be driving his car back. I need someone to drive for me at night, and I knew you wouldn’t do it.”

“He’s fourteen, Mom. He doesn’t have a license. What if he gets pulled over? What if he gets arrested? Are you even thinking about that?”

To the casual observer, I probably look like an ungrateful, disrespectful son, and maybe I am. But I have spent the last two years sacrificing everything to keep my little brother’s life from falling apart. I am not about to let her destroy it now.

“Well, I am his mother, and if he wants to go, you can’t stop him.”

“You selfish bitch,” I mutter under my breath. I know Junior. He will not pass up the chance to drive or leave this town. I also know I cannot stop him. For me, this battle is futile, I have already lost.

“How can you even afford this?” I ask, grasping at straws.

“I saved up some money, and your older brother promised to help. The plan is that we will be staying in your older sister’s apartment until I get on my feet. Junior has offered to give me what he has saved, too.”

I clench my fists. “You’re uprooting his life and taking his money? I don’t think so.” My tone turns icy and devoid of understanding. “I won’t let him go. Just like you did to me two years ago, Mom, you’re on your own.”

I walk away, leaving her there to process my words.

The rest of my shift is a blur. I mess up two orders because I cannot focus. My mother has left me shocked by how selfish she is being. How can she think, even for a second, that I will allow her to take Junior away? He has finally started settling down and becoming responsible. He has a job and a life here. And she wants to throw all of that away.

When I get home from work, Junior is not there. I instinctively know where he is but refuse to call. I do not want to speak to Mom and certainly do not wish to hear her drunk-ass husband’s voice either.

I am tired and need to sleep. I must compile a list of reasons to make Junior change his mind and stay here. As of now, I can think of only one: Penny Sizemore.