Loving Wright

Chapter 13: Mama Bear

Kendra...

The muffled sounds of sniffles and wails were heard coming from inside Kyle's room. It had been going on for more than fifteen minutes now, and I was starting to wonder if he would run out of tears.

When we returned home from the game, he went straight to his room. I tried to talk to him, get him cleaned up, but he lashed out and slammed the door in my face. Any other day I would be mad and demanded that he open it. But he needed the space, so I left him alone. I stood outside the door, afraid to leave him. Only a minute had passed before I heard the cries.

Tired, defeated cries.

Now I was sitting on the floor, leaning on the wall next to his bedroom door, my own tears running down. It's one thing being told that your child is being bullied and beat up. It's another to actually see him being punched and kicked. It was like I was seventeen again. Clueless and unsure of whether I was doing this motherhood thing right. Were the things my son was going through somehow my doing? If it was, how do I fix it? Could I even fix it?

As much as I hated to think this, I wish his father was here. Maybe he would know what to do. Even if he didn't, at least I wouldn't be alone in all of this.

But he wasn't here, and I had to figure this all out on my own.

I got up off the ground and headed to the living room to get my cell phone. There was only one person I could call to help me with this.

I pulled the phone out of the bag I had tossed on the couch and dialed the number.

"Hey ma," I said once she answered

"Hey, what's wrong?" she could always tell when something was going on

"It's Kyle," I answered, "He got into a fight with those boys again."

A grunt was her only response.

"I just left him next to the car to use the bathroom and when I got back those boys were on him," I said in between sniffles

"Kendra..." my mother said soothingly, trying to calm me down

"I don't know what else to do mom."

"Right now you don't. But you'll figure it out, you always do."

"But what if I don't? What if I do something and it's the wrong thing? I feel like I'm not doing this right and he's going to hate me for it."

A sigh came through the phone. There was silence for a few seconds and then I heard her huff. She must have sat down.

"Remember when you came to me and told me you were pregnant?" She asked

My mind went back to that night. My mother had come into my room to check on me and found me covered up in bed crying. I had skipped school and she wanted to find out why. She came in angry, but her face softened when she saw my state. It took a lot of probing, but I eventually told her I was pregnant. I expected a slap across my face, but instead, she held me and kept repeating that we'd get through it.

"I remember," I answered, "You took it better than I thought you would."

"That's what I wanted you to think."

My brows raised, "You were mad at me?"

"No, I was mad at myself," she answered

"Why?"

"My teenage daughter was pregnant, and all I could think was 'where did I go wrong?' I wracked my brain trying to figure out if there was something I could have done to change it. Maybe if I had spent more time with you than focusing on my career, things would be different. Maybe if I didn't run your father away you wouldn't have daddy issues and turn to boys to get that attention you couldn't get from him."