My brother had a job at the local golf course.
It was also the time of year for two-a-days.
(Basically, an extra-long football practice).
My grandma had cancer, and she let my dad borrow her car so that I could take my brother and I to practice.
But, time management wasn't really my brother's thing.
One afternoon he was late getting home from work, and I sat on the stairs waiting by the front door.
He greeted me by slamming it.
Then he ranted about being late and about how it was my fault.
I pointed out that I was sitting there waiting for him for nearly a half-hour.
"You're a fucking bitch." He said.
What he forgot was that we were at Dad's house.
I told him that if he talked to me like that, I would not be driving him to practice.
He called my Dad and started crying before handing me the phone.
I told my Dad, "No, I would not take him to practice. He cussed me out because he was late from work. I was ready to drive him."
My Dad said, "Please drive him to practice? For me."
YOU ARE READING
What My Mother Forgot
Non-FictionBefore reading this, you should know... This is not a happy story. There is no happy ending. Simply put, this is a chronological account of the abuse, neglect, and bullying I suffered at the hands of loved ones from birth to 17 years old. It does no...
