My brother had a job at the local golf course.
It was also the time of year for two-a-days.
(Basically, an extra-long football practice).
My grandma had cancer, and she let my dad borrow her car so that I could take my brother and I to practice.
But, time management wasn't really my brother's thing.
One afternoon he was late getting home from work, and I sat on the stairs waiting by the front door.
He greeted me by slamming it.
Then he ranted about being late and about how it was my fault.
I pointed out that I was sitting there waiting for him for nearly a half-hour.
"You're a fucking bitch." He said.
What he forgot was that we were at Dad's house.
I told him that if he talked to me like that, I would not be driving him to practice.
He called my Dad and started crying before handing me the phone.
I told my Dad, "No, I would not take him to practice. He cussed me out because he was late from work. I was ready to drive him."
My Dad said, "Please drive him to practice? For me."
YOU ARE READING
What My Mother Forgot
Literatura faktuBefore reading this, you should know... This is not a happy story. There is no happy ending. Simply put, this is a chronological account of the abuse, neglect, and bullying I suffered at the hands of loved ones from birth to 17 years old. It does no...
