Lolly

Age 10

We were sitting down at the table in my apartment doing homework. Lolly came over to work with me a lot. I'd never been to her apartment. I had asked my mum if I could ever go to Lolly's but mum said she didn't want me anywhere near her parents. I think it was because they were always fighting. Lolly told me about the fighting. She'd tell me how her parents hit each other. So she spent a lot of days at my house, even when mum wasn't home. Mum didn't mind Lolly. She said she was welcome any time. Of course we must have been tight with money and having an extra mouth around the house didn't help. We'd sometimes end up without electricity. 

Mum wasn't home that day.  She'd warn us to never leave the house. A lot of kids would be playing on our street, making noise. She'd say they were rough kids. She'd say they were exciting but they steal and get into fights and she didn't want me getting mixed up in that.
Lolly sat down opposite me on the plastic table.  When you're ten, I suppose you get awkward around girls.  People at school were already picking up on the fact that me and Lolly were friends and teasing us that we were boyfriend and girlfriend.  I hated them.  Lolly would just stick her tongue out and I'd laugh.  But still, we stopped hanging out at school.  Lolly would hang out with her friends and I'd stay with Jeremy because he never got into fights and everyone stayed away from Jeremy because he was big and looked like he could crush anyone who came too close to him.  

"Hey, Tom?" said Lolly suddenly.  I looked up.

"Yeah?"

"Where's your dad?" she asked.  I stared at her.

"I don't have a dad," I replied and got back to working on the English homework.

"Everybody has a dad," she stated.  

"Not me," I said again and  frustration rose inside of me.  I didn't know what I felt at that moment.  Frustrated at Lolly for asking me, or frustrated at myself for not knowing the answer? I asked my mum a lot about dad.  All she would tell me was that he was her boyfriend when she was seventeen but when she got pregnant, his parents didn't want him to be with her anymore.  I might have believed that when I was seven but I wasn't stupid.  You don't have to always do what your parents tell you.  Especially when you're a grown-up.

Lolly was quiet for a moment and played with her pencil, tapping it on the table.

"Cut it out!" I said finally when the tapping got too much.  She was unfazed.

"You're lucky," she said slowly. 

"What?" I said looking at her as she was still staring at her pencil, twirling it around between her fingers.

"Because your dad can't hit your mum if he's not in your house."  And that was when I stopped feeling angry at Lolly.  And I felt something else.  I felt sorry for her.  Her parents were constantly fighting and everyone in the neighborhood knew it.  But no one talked about it.  No one did anything. I guess it's easier to justify ignoring it to yourself when the two people are involved with each other.  You could tell yourself you didn't want to get involved in other people's business.  You could tell yourself that it wasn't your place to intervene.  You could tell yourself it was their duty to sort it out.  And in many ways, we all justified it to ourselves that way.  Even my mum.  We all pretended like we didn't know.  Like it wasn't our business.  And I guess looking back I realised how much damage we were letting happen before our own eyes.  But what could we have done?  Called the police and have Lolly swept up into foster care? And then what? Some people just have it hard and Lolly was one of them.  

"Why does your dad hit your mum?" I asked slowly.

"Because he's drunk," she said flatly.  "And because my mum doesn't always prepare dinner the way he wants it.  And he hates it when my mum hits back."