In this Coming of Age story, four teen rebels from different walks of life embark on a journey of self discovery, brotherhood, and manhood when they go on a street robbing hiatus; each telling their own unique life stories from different point of vi...
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐲
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨'𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐞𝐰
It was Saturday morning, I always despised Saturday mornings. Saturday mornings marked the ending of the week which caused for early morning conference breakfast in my household, followed by our sacred dinner later on in the day. We'd all sit together at the dinner table and discuss the passing of events that occurred during the week, and afterwards we'd pray for the incoming week. It was actually rather nice perhaps, except there was always a thin line between quality time and interrogation. I was a seventeen year old boy who had a life outside of my parents home, that was something they couldn't quite understand. I blame it on their strict, orthodox Jewish upbringings and beliefs for their invasion of my privacy.
"Theodorus David," my mother called from downstairs.
"Dear Lord, I hate my life," I muttered into the sheets before reluctantly rising from bed.
Had I jolted a bit too quickly because before I knew it, I found myself stumbling over a pair of pink bunny slippers.
"Goddamn it, Catalina!" I scoffed as I grabbed for her slippers and threw them out of the opened nearby window.
"Theo!" my father yelled from downstairs, probably to lecture me about my profanity.
"Coming," I said softly.
Hence why I earlier said I hated my life, matters are even worse when you have to share a bedroom with your fourteen year old, annoying sister.
The weight of the morning settled in, resting heavily on my shoulders as I walked down the stairs. The familiar aroma of breakfast lingered in the air, mingling with the sound of chatter from my family in the kitchen.
"Good morning, Theo," my mother said as she waltzed over to give me a kiss upon the cheek.
"Good morning, Ima," I said to my mother in return before turning to my sister, who was standing behind her making silly faces.
I gave her a death stare before walking over to the table where my father was already seated.
"Good morning, Aba," I said to him.
He glanced at me momentarily before saying, "Theo, don't forget to check the mail," he said, as his eyes barely left the newspaper he was reading.
My father was a man of steadfast routines.
"Yes sir," I replied, ignoring the fact that he didn't say good morning.
I walked over to the front door where the coats were hanging on the side wall, I grabbed my jean jacket before sliding it on and opening up the door to step outside. The crisp morning air immediately embraced me while the coldness tinged my cheeks as I made my way to the mailbox.
