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By the time my mom had met my dad, she’d already been struggling with homelessness. She’d been kicked out of her home as a teen, but she made things work by often crashing with friends, sleeping in her car. While she had one at least. From what I recalled, she couldn’t afford to keep it once I was born.
“She didn’t want to disrupt my dad’s life, and she’d never planned to tell him. But then it became a matter of keeping us alive,” I said. “She was running on fumes every day. Trying to earn and save and show up to all three of her jobs on time while constantly getting sick, having no car, no home. No reliable childcare for her kids.”
AJ stilled and I could practically hear the first thought that popped into her mind. Did I hear right?
When she looked up at me, I could see it was the question flickering in her big, sun-lit eyes. But she simply looked at me, as if she didn’t want to ask.
Swallowing the knot in my throat, I nodded.
“My little brother, Cole,” I said. “He’s three years younger. He had a different dad. One who was just as down and out as my mom, so… while I got rescued into this new life and big house…” I cleared my throat, feeling my vocal chords tighten up as I thought about the things they went through directly after I was shipped off to Jersey. “He stayed with her when she was struggling. Harder than she ever had.”
I didn’t know the exact details, but I knew there was an incident at a homeless shelter. And I knew right after that, there was a boyfriend. Someone who abused my mom enough that there was law enforcement involved. Restraining orders and arrests.
I wanted to know specifics. But to this day, I couldn’t get them.
“Was there a—” AJ cut herself off abruptly, shaking her head.
“What?”
“Nothing. I… I was going to ask if there was an option for your dad to take Cole too, but I realized…”
I nodded since she had the right thought. “Jeannie didn’t even want me. She wasn’t going to let my dad take Cole,” I said, swallowing again at the knot. But it didn’t go down, because suddenly I was remembering the day I left.
Cole was six and I was nine, and I’d pretty much kicked and screamed till the minute my dad touched down at LAX and called my mom to let her know he was on the way to her friend’s house.
We had been staying in the garage, but to meet my dad, we’d sat and waited in the living room, and since I realized it was really happening, I got my shit together fast and told Cole everything Mom told me to tell him. While he sat on the couch, I sat on the floor in front of him and told him this would make things easier for Mom for a little. But I would be back, and in the meantime, he’d get to have all my things. He’d get my toys, my sleeping bag, my portion of French toast at breakfast. I would call him every day too, to tell him about my adventures on the other side of the country, and to hear all about how his day went.
I still remembered his eyelashes when I told him.
The kid had the most ridiculously long, thick eyelashes that I used to make fun of him for, and I still remembered the almost comically big teardrops clinging to them that day when he nodded, trying to be brave as he accepted that he was the new keeper of my most cherished toys—a red car and a plastic ninja.
It was almost a fond memory, because I was still his big brother that day.
I was still his hero who he adored so much he’d forced himself to overcome his tears and shyness to meet my dad. To say hello, introduce himself and even sit in his nice car for a little, where we had our last good conversation. The last one where we felt like brothers.
And the last one before I met Jeannie.
“That explains… a lot,” AJ murmured. She had my hand in both of hers now, squeezing it hard. “You were just a little boy,” she said softly, her neck still craned to look up at me. “It wasn’t even your choice to go, and she pinned all her blame on you.”
“Yeah.”
It had been a hell of a jump.
After leaving my mom and Cole, I’d spent another day in Cali with my dad. He took me to Disneyland, bought some sort of pass where we skipped all the lines and got me my own churros and beignets and all kinds of food I’d never had before, let alone all to myself.
I was basically sugar-blitzed out of my nine-year-old skull when I got to Jersey. Still so mind-blown by my Disney adventures that I hadn’t processed that I really didn’t have Mom or Cole anymore.
But the realization hit fast when I met my new mom.
From day one, it was bad.
“I felt the tension literally the second I stepped into that house. It was like she possessed this chill,” I said, feeling almost cold at the memory. It had been like walking into a horror movie. I still remembered seeing her standing at the kitchen island, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea, silent when she first laid eyes on me. “She was just so… different than my mom. My mom was free-spirited. She smiled a lot and when she laughed, she laughed with her whole face. But this new mom was quiet and so measured and just… stiff. She looked at me like I was evil. She had a disapproving look for everything I did, every move I made around the house. If I touched something, she’d wrinkle her nose and wipe it clean. I scratched my head once and she told my dad to get me checked for lice and anything else I caught from the shelters.”
AJ’s jaw dropped.
“What… a fucking asshole,” she hissed, so floored and completely livid I couldn’t help but laugh a little, which was nice, given the topic.
“Yeah. Meanwhile, I had no idea I’d ever lived in a shelter. Or that that was a bad thing.”
