Chapter 1: The Curse

Why Does He Hate Me?

We went home a few hours later, and I started cleaning up. No upsetting my father now, not with my injuries. Dad would just make them worse. I studied the living room and kitchen. There was broken glass from the smashed window, shattered plates, and mud all over the floor, among other things. A lot to clean, I thought. Carefully dabbing a rag in soap and water, I began to scrub the mud off the white kitchen tiles. Mom walked in the room and looked at me in pity.

"Let me help, sweetie."

"Mom, no! I can do this by myself."

Mom didn't listen, of course. She picked up a rag and started to wash the countertop. I looked up at her.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Davey?"

"Why does Dad hate me so much?"

Mom looked at me.

"Hate is such a strong word, Davey. I would say that he puts a little too much responsibility on your shoulders."

"Why, though? I don't understand."

Mom focused on the counter again, scrubbing the surface a bit harder.

"Davey, I don't know. He doesn't really explain all that he does. My best guess is that he has high expectations for you, and doesn't want to raise a son who can't take responsibility for anything."

I could detect a note of desperation in her voice. I knew she was trying to rationalize how my father treated me. I should change the subject.

"How long until my brother is born?"

My mom looked at me and gave me the sweetest smile. Then she sighed.

"Soon, honey. Very soon."