With his present excitement boiled over as he looked forward to the weekend. Every other weekend was met with living in a different home. Stayed in a different room. He felt alone sometimes because attention was split between a little brother that wasn't old enough to walk. Nathan had imagination. Spunk. Ingenuity that he didn't need his mother's pat to the head or shoulder rubbed when he brought home an analysis of his week and passing at school. Going unnoticed was fine to him. His pop only brought out that part, the need of attention when it came to molding a star athlete. Where he stayed at his mother's and the step-father he was sometimes cold to, was his break from having restricted access to a bike or playing with neighbors. One time he even was allowed to stay out until dinner time in hopes that he didn't come from their neighbor's house covered like a dirt bomb went off.
Mother's day as a concept was one pushed in school. He learned the access to showing appreciation to someone in that role be it by biologically or the guardian who did justice to the title, was done by numerous ways. In class his teacher helped students with the craft and Nathan was determined to get his right on the first try. He watched little snotty nose classmates struggle with lining an image of a flower pot onto construction paper. The finger painting aspect would show itself not taking a rocket scientist to get something onto paper. Their teacher made it clear, step by step on how to achieve what she created. Following almost with a photogenic memory, he pulled off what was the inevitable to everyone else. He stored the tale of telling his mom about it. To make fun of everyone else who was unable to make their Mother's day image as cool as his.
Then she never placed it on the refrigerator. She had it on the table. It became a coaster to a cold beer. A place mat for food. Grease stains tainted it's structure, even the wet spots from drinks casually sitting on it, caused his pride about it to deflate. She never acknowledged it's significance to her or gave him false hope that she loved it. The thought itself would have meant a lot to him and his little heart cracked then. The look on her face of indifference was telling story he wouldn't forget either. When he wanted to present her with something better next year, he would remember to go bigger. To find a better craft. To ask his dad to take him to the store, using what little of his allowance for a gift. And sell lemonade spiked with the stuff his dad always drank to find more money.
His impressions were glossed over and Nathan turned to his place of quiet ignoring the arguing between his mom and her husband. He sat on the floor of his room, running matchbox cars over the ramp he built from miscellaneous household items. He gotten lost again, became unnoticed, the start of a crippling existence in the eyes of the woman who could've done more to show that he was still her kid.
they're dead
the disrespectful gratitude · 15yrs old
News was news and there was no way in hell that he was going to apologize for the things said at dinner. He avoided going to see his mother for a few months. Put blame on his busy schedule, including practices, and training. Plus the prospect of school. He was a teenager placed in strict binds that only allowed him enough space to breathe. And to court some dumb girl who was only with him because he built a reputation of riding the fence of being a scholar and athlete. Popularity was a given and he used it to his advantage a lot. Never did it translate well when school was out and it was time to face the music at home. His pop didn't pound his face in about being behind in lessons, or threaten to break any bone in his body but did revoke usage of a vehicle. Was adamant about lessening his chances of prom or any other school function that wasn't sport related.
At least he cared enough about the things he did. What he was striving for even if his mind was often likely not to be there. A sense of abandonment had its way of being dealt with, especially when it came between trying to honestly enjoy his brother's company. When he couldn't it the spotlight always shined back on Evelyn. He resorted to calling her by her first name a while ago. When she showed her ass in front of him, his brother, and his step-father. Announcing her disdain for his choice in attire. Why he was unlike his brother, the less kinder of the two, or why he didn't like the man she decided to make a life with. Those blues were real and translated into the fall of grades. Just a steep in them. From pluses, to a full letter, all the way into the minus. Being a superb A or B student was enough to appease his father but moving into the C's then a solid F in one class had been enough to feel the strain on what freedom he had.
She didn't care. Only barely acknowledged it as being overshadowed by the things his brother intended to do. To remain in her good graces, while being the eldest meant setting the example. Not being the one to let the little brother take that task away from him. He allowed it. She allowed it more and while things were more of misunderstandings. Not knowing how to care for a kid who was rushing to be a man more than remain the teenager he should have been praised to be, Nathan saw it as a form of laziness. The priorities weren't the same like the old man he lived with and had better days being around despite his penchant for being a vocational asshole. The lesser of two evils shaped him and would soon motivate the worst thing he could do for the woman once Mom's day showed itself.
He intentionally shopped around for bouquets of flowers at the supermarket that were on the edge of wilting. The death of them soon and he wanted her to have it. To know how he really felt when words went deaf to her ears as the time he stood up from the dinner table, excusing himself. Money earned was used to purchase it, along with a pack of gum, cola, and tv guide for his dad. His bike ride home with the ingredients for furthering a disastrous Mother's day, played in his head. It distracted him to fulfill some type of revenge. To make a statement in it's symbolic means of passing over a couple of stupid flowers. Off the sidewalk, in the street and crossing an intersection without paying attention to traffic lights, nearly caused a crash to occur, but he went on his route.
To bike it home but had to make that stop. Not without going home first to prepare. He dropped his bmx in front of the porch and raced the steps to break out his key to get in. When his father wasn't around, he knew he was pulling a later shift because dinner was tv dinner options or money left behind for pizza, and he was sick of having pizza constantly. Nathan took his goods with him and into his room. He lost his appetite a long time ago that day knowing what would come the following after he dropped off his so called present. He puzzled over the reaction he might miss, or if it would raise her already high blood pressure. Would his little brother understand and try to talk down to him only for being a ten year old that knew nothing.
It didn't matter to him after determination set the tone and for what he was going to do for the rest of the evening. Pen took to stock card that was laying around, furiously writing words after words of how he felt. Knowing deeply down inside it took a lot of him to go there. To misspell, offer broken sentences out of frustration, and toss it away to start all over again. He was angry, eyes blurry from tearing up only because no one was there to chastise him and it was years since he exploded after keeping it all in. While the small instances of neglect, including the major one of verbally overhearing a wish of not being born, really struck the last chord. It burned through and through while he pushed the card away. Close to completing his task, it had to wait until there was a proper moment to breathe.
farewell in a greeting
In words unlike his own · 43yrs old
A week before ever thinking about traveling to his home state, he held many debates internally of how to approach the sensitivity of Mother's day. She didn't know him anymore but he knew her to be just the same. Evelyn left messages that he ignored. She went through his brother to get to him and those went on deaf ears or incited disputes between the younger guy that was the innocent of this all as Nathan grew to understand where his years of resentment derived from. It wasn't his fault and for that amends would be made. He would try for it. It was only then that he had days to respond if any at all. When the days going on their own way, it was that time of the month where Nathan was reduced to a small percentage as Slade took over the rest to complete the walking whole. He had things that were to be said in regard's to Nate's sensibilities. With parents being the precursor to how adults normally operated, he was gaining a better understanding besides the trauma placed upon him by force, or experiences in the last twelve years, of why Nathan was the way he turned out to be.
The card was a simple design with Hallmark being the manufacturer of said folded piece of paper. He was taken back to his youth. Distancing it from that of the superior self, because it was the furthest at the front of his mind. He understood the place he was in and how this was going to go but a peace of his personal life not part of Slade's had to be met with less resistance. To deal with the sharp edges to fully have the right tool to take over. The note would be sweet and to the point. Less derogatory than Nathan would have liked, but all in the same of wanting to bury the hatchet because the internal ache he had yet to erase after all of these years. It was time to live up to those unspoken sentiments. The one where she didn't have an older son anymore, but just a man that was releasing himself from the title by choice because it would do them both good.
Evelyn,
This is my final farewell. After this, including that giftcard to Olive Garden, you won't ever have to worry about hearing from me again. Times when we would go without months, even years of not speaking will come to past. I'm in a different place than I have all of those years. Most marked by some tragic event even ones that shake you to the core. The least that any one of us could do is break the bonds that just kept us more at distance than close. We've never been that when dreams of it died a time ago. Now, it's clearer than ever. Day by day I've changed into someone that lost touch with who you were or had potential of becoming. The one thing that was ever asked for, never has been received. You've tried out of guilt and not for a genuine concern. It's fine. I'm good without it, including the vile things said over the years that I would have never said to you out of some respect. It wasn't received as a kid, nor now, so enjoy the rest of your day. Try being a better person first before aiming for Mother of the year this late in the game.
