What she left Behind | ONGOING

CHAPTER 14

───── Josh ─────

I remember I was teased a lot during my school years. Not because I was ugly, dumb, or had some geeky behavior. That was never a problem. Growing up, I was a normal kid with the same interests as the others. Yet, they used to poke around the idea that I was a fatherless child.

I must be honest though, at first, it hurt. It was a gut-wrenching feeling to go back home, knowing I would be all alone because my mother had to work more than one job to support my education and our basic needs.

My mother did everything she could to help us stay afloat and if he would've stuck around when he was supposed to, we wouldn't have been in that complicated situation. Now that I'm older and comprehend everything much better, I feel like an idiot all those days I argued with my mother about why we didn't have the same things others did.

I was a child and didn't understand that my father was a coward who didn't want to take responsibility.

When he found out about me, he said my mother should have an abortion but she was against it. When she told me about that day, of course, my first thought was that I ruined her life and for years I had to live with that awful guilt. But my mother would always comfort me and say it wasn't my fault and that having me was the best thing to ever happen to her.

As I am sitting on the worn-out wooden table in her kitchen, in her tiny and almost falling-to-pieces apartment, well, I disagree a little bit with her. I trace the familiar cracks in the wood with the tip of my finger, thinking about how I will tell my mother that I've decided to go see the man who ruined her life. I'm trying to find a way to tell her that it is about time that he begins to give something back.

In this case, a decent job so I can begin to earn good money to support my struggling mother—the woman he claimed was the love of her life when they were in college, but ran away when things got too hard.

Some would argue that he was young and didn't know better. But if you're old enough to sleep around, you're old enough to accept the consequences of your actions and deal with them.

I looked around my mom's apartment. This place was quieter than usual, the ticking of the wall clock felt louder than it had the right to. I hear her softly humming as she prepares some tea, unaware of the internal battle inside of me. I have to tell her, it's now or never.

"I'm going to see him," I've decided to say it quickly before I convince myself to not let her know my next move. It's like ripping off a band-aid—as fast as possible so it hurts less.

She stops humming abruptly, and at that moment, I regret saying anything at all. Honestly, I would've told her anyway because lying to her is never a solution, but I didn't stop to think for a moment if today was the best day to say anything.

Fuck it. It is the right day.

If I don't say anything right now, I will never do it. Going behind her back is never the best option. Never. Tried it, didn't work, she could figure out everything at the end of the day.

My mother, mid-motion with the tea, paused her actions but didn't turn to look at me, making me feel even more nervous about what she would say or do next. After what seems like forever, she returns to finish preparing the tea and ignores what I just said aloud.

"Mom, did you hear me?" of course she did, she just doesn't want to answer me. She is playing deaf and it's so annoying.

"Mom—"

"Josh," her voice is serious and her drastic tone takes me aback for a moment. She was so cheerful just a few minutes ago. But I understand that her feelings regarding that man could be negative—he acted like a piece of shit.