Different colored minds

A parent's dream

JOE POV

I'm laying on my bed looking up at the ceiling. It's strange not going to a party for once. It doesn't feel as bad as I thought it would. I needed the space.
But I'm bored. The person that made me feel comfortable was Steven... and her. But that was then and they aren't options now. I sigh and lower myself into my wheelchair. If I can't make it into college for sports I might as well get in for the grades I had to maintain to be in sports. I pull out my backpack and lay it on the desk. My chemistry book slides out. I don't get chemistry. Within the past weeks of classes I've been able to establish that this isn't the subject for me, but my dad won't take failure.
I flip through the old pages, the smell of old textbook flooding out into my room. I push it to the side and pull out my lap top. At least google gets chemistry. I smile as I scroll through a series of probable answers on yahoo answers. Apparently now a days I have to pay for the steps But I can't understand the solution if I can't look at the steps. And I'm not going to pay to cheat. It's just frustrating. All I want to do is pass and get out of this hell hole, and all I can manage to do successfully is write my name at the top of the paper. It makes me feel so dumb and trapped.

It makes me feel like my dad is right. Like I'm nothing but a dead weight. I'm stupid and lazy. I can't do anything right And worst of all, i don't have the capacity right now to give a flying fuck. I sigh as my eyes read the yellow word chemistry on the cover of the book. It's currently the only C that I have. And I need that to change. But how?

"Joe, food's done, come eat with us," I guess figuring out how to pass will have to wait. I wheel my chair down the hall and into the kitchen area.

"Nice to see you home so much lately," my mom says sitting down. I ease my wheelchair into the gap left by where a chair used to be. It's right next to my father's spot.

"Hopefully not for too long, you're back on the team, right?" My father is looking at me now with a brow raised.

"No," I say quietly.

"What?" My dad is getting to his feet. "Do you know how much we paid to put you through that sport all through high school? We supported you this whole time and this is what you have to say back? That you give up?"

"I lost a part of my leg," I can feel the rage bubbling up within me as well now.

"Well that's too bad. You know what I said I'd do if you didn't join the team again, didn't you?" My mom is looking from my dad to me. I didn't tell her what he said he was going to do. I didn't think she needed the pain of it too.

I close my eyes slowly and open them again. What father pulls this shit on their kid.

"What did I tell you I would do?" He repeats angrily. I can feel my fists clench, he's making me look like an idiot. I can't do anything while I am financially attached to them. I can't break through. I can't get out. I'm trapped between the two of them.

My mom looks at me curiously.

"Leg," I spit quietly.

"Honey," my mom is looking at my dad now. My heart sinks.

"Turns out I'll be taking it after all. Teach you how to obey your father."

"Now Michael," my mother's voice is rising.

"Shut up," he snaps and sits back down.
"I'm teaching him a lesson, I'll take it away for a month. He's survived in the chair until now, I'm sure he can last another month. Who knows maybe by then he will start considering the consequences of his actions for the next time." My dad stabs into a piece of broccoli.

"Dad, that's not fair, you know that's not,"

"Well life isn't fair son, and this is a perfect example."

My mom is standing up.

"Michael you can't talk to our son that way,"

"Why not? What would you have him do? Try and pay back the money we put in to put him through football. We could be out of this stupid three room house by now if he just would have quit when he was young. He's taking away our dreams, why can't you see that?"

"He didn't choose to lose his leg!"

"But he chose to quit football!"

"So what would you have me do, dad? Should I just go sit on the bench for the rest of time. Tell the other kids what to do if they let me, and then what? What would it accomplish? No one will want me. No college wants a cripple, just like you said."

"They'd take a cripple who plays football before they'd take one who just gave up and walked away,"

"That's enough." My mom's hand slams against the table with a shutter. There's tears splashing down her face. Her eyes are filled with disappointment.

"Will you two please stop fighting and let's just eat dinner like normal civilized adults." We both look at her.

"You're taking his side," my dad is pointing at me.

"You're so selfish! You wanted a bigger house. You wanted a kid who could play football. You wanted the..."

"Oh don't start me on the you wanted... that's bullshit May and you know it, I have done nothing but slave away for this family since the day we were married."

"Maybe to you it was, but not to me," my mom's voice gets quiet before she turns on her heal and stomps down the hallway.

"MAY! May! What so you're just going to run away too? Oh sure, just go run away like a child!"

"Don't talk to mom like that!" I roll backwards.

"Or what, Joe? What would you know, you're just a cripple in a chair." That's when I start rolling away. I'm down the hall. Out the back door. I'm in the garage, and pretty soon my hand is crumpling against the concrete wall. I can feel pain blister through my bones.

He's so ignorant. He's so stupid. He's so horrible. Why is he this way? He doesn't deserve to be a father.

Red slides down the wall as my hand rejoins my side.

I sit there for the next hour before stepping into the house. I can hear the voices of my mom and dad in the background.

"I'm sorry baby," my dad's voice is low and calm now.

"Did you say sorry to him?" My mom still sounds upset.

"Now May, see I," he's starting to get heated again.

"Then wait to say sorry until after you've said it to him."

And that's the last of their voices I hear as I slowly open the door to my room, and close it behind me. Sometimes abandonment has nothing to do with someone not being there physically. When I don't amount to anything I'm the leach on my father's back. When I'm the star football player I'm his favorite son. Sometimes abandonment looks like loving someone for what they can do instead of who they are. Guess I should have gone to the party after all.