I walked into my son, Jayme’s, bedroom to check up on him. He was sitting awake, he was supposed to be asleep, with hair all over his bed. What the hell did he do to his hair!? “Jayme! What did you do!?” I shouted at him, which probably was wrong. He was only five he didn’t know any better. He stared at me, fear in his eyes. Oh how I hated that look. “Jayme,” I said his name sternly.
“I didn’t do anything,” he sobbed with his head down.
“There’s hair on your bed, along with those scissors,” I said softly while approaching him.
“I didn’t do it, it was Taylor,” he cried while pointing towards Taylor’s room. Which was right next to his. We lived in a three bedroom trailer, probably in one of the worse cities we could live in, Detroit, Michigan. I’ll explain why later.
“Taylor Ann Cook!” I yelled, well not really, you could talk normal and still hear anything through these walls.
“I didn’t do it!” she yelled. I let out a sigh, I didn’t believe her. She was always pestering her brother, ever since her father, James, left and moved off to China. Oh how I hated their father for leaving us for that bitch, just to go make some stupid socks.
“Come here now!” I yelled though the door. She came stomping down the hall. She stood in front of me without saying a word. “What did you do to your bothers hair!?” I yelled. She knew better, she was eight but she knew better.
“I was playing barber,” she said trying to be innocent.
“So you go and cut your bothers hair?” I questioned her. She just shrugged. I shook my head. I cannot believe her, she’s gotten in more much trouble then an eight year old should in the past two years, it was unbelievable how many times I had to pick her up from school for starting something.
“Taylor Cook, you are grounded for two weeks, now go to your room!” I yelled trying not to look at her as she began to cry, she took off too her room and slammed the door. I wish she wouldn’t, these doors are not that strong, neither are the walls that support them.
“Mommy?” Jayme’s soft voice made me jump. I turned around and stared at him.
“Yes, honey?” I asked. He stared at me for a moment before whipping his tears.
“Can we go fix my hair?” he asked softly, trying not to cry.
“Of course, right after dinner,” I smiled walking up to him. I kissed him on the forehead. He gave me a hug back.
“I love you, Mommy,” he said softly.
“I love you too, honey,” I smiled before leaving the room. Jayme was the good one, not one time has he done anything wrong…well, at school that is. Every kid has done at least one thing wrong at home. But it was never anything like Taylor’s behavior, breaking things, sneaking out her room to watch TV at night, skipping class, not listening to the teachers.
~~~
I left Jayme’s room and went to the kitchen, I looked though the cabinets to find any kind of food, all I found was some hamburger helper. I let out a sigh, I almost wanted to cry.
Trying to keep up this place with my minimum wedge job at Wal-Mart, plus take care of two children and pay for school was killing me. I had to have the state help me with food stamps. Which was embracing for me, I hated showing that I was poor, and my drunk of a father wouldn’t help, I had to help him, with the little money that I had. He became a drunk after my mother was killed in a car accident when I was 16. Due to a drunk driver.
I rested my head in my arms on the counter. “Mommy?” I heard Jayme whisper softly. I turned and stared at him, as if I didn’t know who he was, I mean I knew who he was but I was so upset that I was confused I guess. “Are you ok?” he asked. I nodded slowly.
