Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It was 1989. Owen and I were 10-years-old. Our dad had just returned home from the Iran-Iraq war a year prior due to an injury that resulted in a permanent limp and that the 8 year war was finally over.
That year he had turned violent. He would get drunk and loose his mind and take his anger out on our mom. Owen was more fond of our dad. I was always a mama's boy.
So when he would hit her, I would sometimes intervene, that ended in me being hit on. Owen never stepped in between the beatings, apart of me always believe he somehow liked it.
He wanted to be so much like our father. It scared me sometimes.
It was a Sunday morning. I knew because mama was blasting her Shirley Caesar. The home smelled of lemon from the deep clean of the house the day before.
We were all getting ready for church. Owen was lallygagging. And I was trying my best to tie a tie. I couldn't get it right so I went to my mom who was in the living room.
I overheard her on the phone talking to my grandma. "Ma, that isn't any of your business. " She said in a matter of fact tone.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Ma? Can you help me with my tie?" She turned to me and held the phone with her head and shoulder as she motioned for me to come closer.
