Then You Are Gone

f o u r t e e n

AUGUST 10, 2009

Boston

I tried my best not to tell you anything about what's happening, Mom, but I think it's time I talk about it. I could tell someone, like my concerned math teacher, but I don't know what's gonna happen if I tell her. Dad might go to jail, and I really don't want that to happen. I still love him.

Where do I start? It first happened months ago. I was learning how to skateboard with my friends, and I ended up breaking my arm. I had to wear a cast for weeks. That means I wasn't able to participate on the next match. Dad and I still watched with the audience, but everything was going bad for our team without me. Dad kept blaming me, telling me that wouldn't have happened if I wasn't stupid, stupid for breaking my own arm. I think that's where his anger started.

It got worse when we went home. I've been the one who's been washing the dishes since you were gone. Dad was in the living room, drinking alcohol, when I accidentally pushed his favorite mug off from the sink and to the floor. I'm sorry I know I'm not naturally clumsy, but it was really hard to wash the dishes when you're wearing a cast. I know you would understand, but Dad didn't. He grabbed the front of my shirt and started yelling at me. Stupid, stupid, stupid fucking kid.

I knew I wasn't stupid, but he's called me that and a lot more other words since and I'm starting to believe him. He yells at me for every mistake I make. On the field, outside the field. At home. He would yell even louder when I cry. Worthless. Piece of shit. I've started getting a little used to it, but tonight, he yelled something different. He was a little too drunk, and I don't know why but he just entered my room. He started telling me how he regrets my existence, and that I was the reason you died. Is that true, Mom? He told me you refused chemotherapy because you didn't want us to be broke. You wanted me to have a better future, you wanted me to end up not enjoying life as I should be. He said you tried killing yourself more than once because you wanted to die before the cancer eats you up.

Is that true?

If so, maybe I'm really a piece of shit, just like what Dad said. You shouldn't have given up on trying because of me. Now, you're no longer here, and I have no one else anymore.

Stupid Ian