“Mom, I’m outta here,” Derek
yelled. He shoved open the rickety wooden screen door with his shoulder and was
nearly across the porch before he heard his mom’s voice.
“Derek Alan Moore, don’t you let
that door slam!”
He spun around just in time to barely
catch the bottom edge of the door with the toe of his size twelve Nike. He was
loaded down with a backpack stuffed to overflowing hanging off his right shoulder,
an army green duffle bag in his right hand and a plastic bag filled with peanut
butter sandwiches in the other. He gently released the door and was seconds
away from the steps when he heard his mom’s voice again.
“Derek, wait,” she called out from
the back of the tiny house.
Derek had lived in that old house his whole
life. There were two small bedrooms on the north side, each of them
barely large enough for a double bed. A doorway separated the rooms with only
an old set of drapes hung for privacy. The living room and dining room consumed
the other half of the house as one large open area. The only bathroom
had no shower. Derek hated that; he often took a shower at school after
practice so he wouldn't have to climb into that tiny little porcelain tub. Also the sink was in his mom’s bedroom so he had
to brush his teeth every morning and night with her looking on. Worst of all,
the dingy kitchen had been created by closing in a back porch, not only was it
too small to be functional, it was always freezing in the winter and a
sauna in the humid Midwestern summers. Even though it was old and shabby, it
was the only home he’d ever known.
The house had belonged to Derek’s
great grandparents. When his dad left, Derek was still a baby, and Jackie had
nowhere else to go so she crowded into the nine hundred square foot house with
her grandparents. Grandpa Johnny died of emphysema when he was too little to
even remember him, and Grandma Jane lived with them until a couple years ago
when she passed away. She died in her sleep, and as much as he missed her, it
made him happy that she had died that way. Grandma Jane had always told him,
when it was her time she just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. That’s
exactly what she did.
For a split second Derek considered
running out to his 1984 Chevy pickup and pretending not to have heard his
mother, but instead he dropped his gear on the porch and opened the screen
door. “Mom, I’m going to be late. I have to pick up Brandon, and Jerry needs a
ride tonight too. What do you want?”
She popped her had through her
bedroom door. “You were just going to leave without telling me what I’m
supposed to do tonight?”
“What do you mean? Just go to the
game, sit in the stands and cheer when we win the game—the same thing you've
done every Friday night during football season for the last four years.” He
wasn't even trying not to be sarcastic.
“Derek, what is your problem?" Jackie banged the palm of her hand on the door frame. "Don’t
you forget I’m still your mother. There’s no need for that attitude.” Jackie was a
tiny woman, only about five foot two. She probably didn't weigh more
than a hundred pounds, but she had grit. She had raised Derek by herself, and she
never allowed him to talk to her disrespectfully. Derek could see she wasn't
going to allow it now either.
Derek tucked his head. “I’m sorry,
mom. It’s just this is a big game. Three college recruiters are there tonight.
Coach said, if we get there early Brandon and I can run some plays and get some
one-on-one time with them. It could mean a chance for a scholarship.”
“Why don’t you tell me stuff like
this?” She still stood with her head tilted around the door frame. She grabbed
her robe and walked into the living room. “I just need to know if I’m supposed
to sit somewhere different because of it being Senior Night.”
“Oh shit.” Derek snapped his fingers.
“Derek! Watch your language in your
grandma’s house.”
“Oh sorry.” He didn't look up. “I
forgot all about Senior Night. I was supposed to get a flower. Crap.” Derek
paced in a tiny circle clapping his hands together.
“What kind of flower?” Jackie stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“I don’t know? Any kind, I guess.
Where am I going to get one now?” He looked desperately at his mother. “Mom,
I’m so sorry. You’ll be the only one that doesn't get a flower, and I’ll look
like some idiot kid who doesn't care about his mom.”
“I’ll stop at the supermarket, they
have a small selection in that case out front. Don’t worry, go impress the
recruiters.”
“Really?” He started to smile but
realized how lame he was. “I’ll make it up to you.”
She smiled up at her six foot tall son. “Once
I get there, how can I get it to you?”
“If you can get there before the
National Anthem while the band is still on the field, I can meet you at the East
entrance by the old stadium bleachers.” Derek dug in his pocket and pulled out his wallet and handed her all the money he had, thirteen dollars. “Will
this be enough?”
“I’ll take care of it. How much do think one flower costs anyway?” Jackie
pushed the money back at him.
He shrugged and refused to take the money back. Derek squeezed
his mom in a big hug. “I’m sorry I was a jerk. You’re the best.”
“I know!” Jackie pushed him in the
direction of the door, and he was gone.
No comments:
Post a Comment