The Broken Wall

Only Chapter

Once I was a child, I used to live in a good, fancy house in the interior of Ontario. It was not a mansion, but the place was very beautiful and huge for a kid, plus it had a strange and tall wall in its backyard. I don't exactly remember its height, but it was taller than most of the walls you usually see around, made of old, red strong bricks. The strange part was that my family never wanted me to get close to it and, sometimes, my dad would even quote his most famous sentence, "Don't rely on a broken wall." As a young boy I didn't understand very well what he was trying to say, however I preferred to take this advice as literal while expecting to discover its true meaning.

  In those times I would live with my mother and father, we were such a small family for a big house. My mom, Elsa, was a well recognized lawyer in the city because she charged really high prices and, most importantly, worked with "dishonest people" as I can say. I would often tell her, "You're as rich as Queen Elizabeth" and mom would give me a silly smile while saying how adorable I was. My dad, Ethan, wasn't busy like she was, actually he didn't even have a job due to the huge amount of money that mother could earn by herself. All that my father would usually do was watch TV on that comfortable couch and, sometimes, invite his old, alcoholic friends to stay home until dawn but, when Elsa argued with him, he would go to places that only God knew where. Discussions were very common because of my father's acts as he used to get drunk and come back home, waking my mother up in the middle of the night with that slurred, low voice. Sometimes I could hear their words through the silent night, the speeches were just loud enough to wake me up but still I could barely understand them. Although the relationship of my parents seemed very problematic, they were always smiling for me and trying to live happily. "Always enjoy your life, our little white prince," they would calmly say this phrase while calling me by the nickname which my grandmother gave to me.

  So on September 19th of 1997, after a long day studying math, I could finally wait for my mother to pick me up at school with that expensive, white Nissan. I probably only waited for 10 minutes but it seemed way too long as I always felt anxious to get out of that place. Then a "Beep, beep" sound appeared, I instantly recognized that horn and immediately ran to where the vehicle was parked as mom waved at me.

"How was school?" she happily asked.

  While I quickly entered the car, I began to grumble, "It is getting harder and harder everyday. Can you believe that there's a thing called 'fraction'? It is the worst." Then I got a place for me and my dinosaur backpack on those black leather seats:

  "Don't worry, sweetheart," she said through low laughs, "I'm sure that, when you get home, your father can help you with this subject." Afterwards I spent the rest of our path in silence, just looking at the view of the many cars and colourful trees through that dark window.

  When we arrived, I noticed that my mother wouldn't enter home with me.

  "Sorry, son," using that mom's famous sad voice, "but I have a lot of work this week. You'll have to stay with your father during the afternoons." And, as she finished the sentences, I grabbed my bag, exited the car besides answering an unheard "okay."

  It is not that I didn't like my dad, he could take good care of me when needed, however he didn't know me very well and also preferred to do his own stuff instead of playing with me. So when Elsa slowly drove away,                     
  I started to walk towards that beautiful entrance: cut grass, rainbow flowers in small bushes and an angel font surrounded by white rocks paths which lead to the main door.

  "Dad?" I shouted as I opened the door.

  "Hold on," he shouted back, "I'm coming." After a few seconds I saw Ethan quickly leaving the kitchen with his arms wide open in order to give me a hug.