My brother's football coach was my History and Government teacher.
He'd had me in class for 1st period for over two semesters.
One day before practice, he called me over. "Why are you making your brother late for practice?"
But the way he said it wasn't accusing. More like skeptical. A question.
I stared at him for a beat. My feelings at odds.
Was I loyal to my brother, or was I loyal to myself?
I told the truth. I wasn't making my brother late for practice. He was late getting home from work.
He jogged off, and at the end of practice, my brother slammed into the car.
"Why did you tell the Coach the truth?" He screamed.
"Because I'm not making you late." I answered.
"Well, you should have lied. Now I have to run laps."
When we got home, he called my mother and told my Dad. Both of them agreed.
I should have lied.
YOU ARE READING
What My Mother Forgot
NonfiksiBefore 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...
