Loving Wright

Chapter 2: Pride & Joy

Kendra...

Click. Clack. Click.

That was the sound of my son's thumbs hitting the buttons of his new PSP. The PSP I spent a lot of money on as an attempted bribe.

Now, why would I have to bribe my 11-year-old son?

To eat his vegetables? To do his homework? To finish his chores? No.

It was a bribe to get him to move all the way to Washington with me.

See, Kyle was not thrilled about moving to DC and leaving his friends, and he made sure it was known. I didn't want to leave him behind and tried to sell him the dream that was Washington DC, and the new friends he was going to make. But he was not here for it, coming up with counter-arguments to everything I said. He even came up with a plan to stay with my mother while I moved.

But I wanted him with me and resorted to the old tactics of buying him something he wanted so he could do what I wanted.

He accepted the gift, played with it for an hour and concluded that he still wasn't moving to DC.

I was disappointed and was seriously considering letting him stay with my mother. But then I remembered something.

I'm his MOTHER!

He didn't tell me what to do.

So I went into his bedroom and said what needed to be said.

"I am the parent, you are the child!"

"Do I look like one of your little friends? Am I Jacob? Am I Craig?"

"Do you pay bills in this house? You got bill money? Exactly! So you don't have a say in anything!"

"Your narrow behind is gonna be on that plane to DC, whether you like it or not!"

You know, the usual stuff parents say to their kids show authority.

Now here we were, sitting at the dinner table, him ignoring me like he's been trying to do for the last three months.

I had accepted it for a while, thinking he would get over it soon enough. But as time went on, nothing changed. When he started to his new school about a month ago, it felt like it got worse. I wanted to blame it all on the move, but this had been going on long enough for me to know that it was much more than that.

He was becoming different, turning into someone that I couldn't recognize. He didn't talk to me like he used to and seemed to always want to be with his friends and not with me. He's growing up, I get that, but did it mean that he had to shut me out like this?

Oh, how I missed the days where I was everything to him.

I remember holding him for the first time in the hospital. I was overjoyed and terrified all at the same time. Overjoyed that he was finally here, terrified that I would have to raise him all on my own. Yes, I had my mother to help, but he was my son, his well-being, sanity, happiness and future all depended on me. My seventeen-year-old self wasn't sure she could provide all those things.

As he got older, raising him wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. He was a sweet, loving little boy, who rarely disobeyed his grandmother and I. And he was so helpful, always wanting to do chores on his own or help with a paper I had to write for class. He would get in the way sometimes, but I never sent him away. I took all the time with him I could get.

Now I wish he could get in my way.

And to make things weirder, he was looking more and more like Anthony by the day. That "light skin", curly hair, wide smile and strong nose were all Anthony. All he seemed to get from me was those chocolate brown eyes.