Both My Parents, Neither My Home

Everyone said I was the luckiest kid in our blended family because I was the only one with both my biological parents under the same roof. What nobody knew was what that actually meant. When money went missing from the house, my mother, Lori Cohen, never once suspected my sister. She just turned around and slapped me across the face. When my father, Dennis Callinan, handed out allowance, he always skipped over me and told me to make do with whatever my brother, Preston Goldberg, and my sister, Carol Callinan, didn't want anymore. Even when the two of them fought, I was the only one they took it out on. So I got sick. "You're too young to be putting on some big sad act," Mom said, eyes full of disgust, the moment she found the scars on my arm. I did the most chores in that house and took the most yelling, and one night, I cut my wrist. That was finally enough to make my parents stop playing favorites. For the first time in over a decade, I had a room of my own, even if it was just a few square feet that used to be a study. I wasn't a ghost with no privacy anymore. Then Preston and Carol had a huge fight. By the time I got home, my room had turned back into a study. My things were dumped in the living room like garbage. Mom told me, her voice perfectly calm. "Preston and Carol's rooms are too close together. His gaming keeps her up. "Be reasonable. We've humored your little suicide game long enough. Don't make this hard for us." This time, I didn't cry or make a scene like I used to. Because I couldn't hear any of it anymore. And I didn't want any of it anymore. Chapter 1 Seeing me head for the study, Mom furiously grabbed my wrist. The moment her fingers touched the thick layer of scars there, she yanked her hand back like she'd been shocked. "Can't you understand plain words?" Mom snapped. "That room is for your brother to play his games in from now on!" With that, she slammed the door shut, as if even one more glance from me would be some kind of sacrilege. I laughed, a short, unhinged sound. "So where am I supposed to sleep?" Mom froze for a second, then jabbed a furious finger around the living room like I was an idiot. "Isn't there a couch right there? Isn't there a rug? Sleep wherever you want. Stop acting so pathetic!" Sleep wherever I wanted. Like she was describing a stray dog. "Don't I deserve a room of my own?" My voice came out quiet, but Dad exploded instantly, like a man who'd been holding back for years. "You have everything in this house. You have both your parents together under one roof. Why do you have to fight Preston and Carol over something this small? "Preston has lost his real father, and Carol has lost her real mother. Why are you being so petty? "They're happy every day. You're the only one who walks around with that miserable face." A mountain of guilt crashed down on me, and whatever I'd been about to say died in my throat. I'd been hearing that same line since the day I was born. Seventeen years of it. The moment I dared to push back, I became ungrateful, selfish, greedy, some inhuman monster. I was too scared to reply. My sister got home from work and stumbled over my bags the second she walked through the door. She caught sight of me and frowned. "What now?" Mom let out a cold snort. "Ronald's been making a scene about wanting his own room. Won't give anyone a moment's peace." My sister made a small noise of acknowledgment, the corner of her mouth curling in a way that mirrored Mom's exactly. "What does a kid need privacy for?" A kid. She said it so lightly. She'd apparently forgotten that when she first came to this house, she'd been only six years old. She'd gotten her own room right away, along with a computer and an allowance. Anyone who wanted in had to knock three times first, or she'd scream and cry until she got her way. But now, she looked straight through my pain, and even laughed at it. "This conversation's over." Mom shoved a hamper full of dirty laundry into my arms, her face saying she had no patience left for me. "Go wash these." "My finals are coming up..." "Don't you dare use your finals as an excuse! Preston and Carol both took it too. When did either of them ever make excuses?" They didn't need excuses. They never had to wash dishes, sweep floors, or do an endless mountain of laundry. Mom never gave my sister chores, worried it would upset Dad. Dad never gave my brother chores, worried it would upset Mom. I was the only convenient target. Hitting me, screaming at me, blaming me for anything, none of it cost them a thing, because nobody was ever going to step in for me. My silence only made Mom angrier. She shoved me into the bathroom. A slap cracked across my face, snapping my head to the side. Under the glare of the bathroom light, her expression was twisted, overpowering. "Wash it now, and don't talk back. Preston needs these clothes tomorrow. "You think my life is easy? We've got five people living in this house, and everyone depends on me. You're the luckiest one here, and you still fight me on everything!" "How exactly am I the lucky one?" Chapter 2 "What did you just say?" Mom froze for a second, and her voice shot up so sharp it nearly split my eardrums. I held back tears, the red welt from her slap still stinging across my face, and slowly turned to look at her. "Getting hit every day, is that what you call lucky?" "You wouldn't get hit if you didn't fight me on everything. You brought this on yourself." But this time, I didn't cower the way I used to. I said each word slow and clear. "Maybe I didn't bring this on myself. Maybe you just pick on whoever's weakest." Mom's expression froze for a moment, then her eyes went red, like I'd just said something monstrous. "Might as well just die, then," she shrieked, wailing like the world was ending. The door banged open. Dad stormed in, his face ashen with rage, and came straight at me. I couldn't stop myself from shaking. He looked at me for two seconds, then kicked me to the ground without warning. "Ah!" I let out a scream as I slammed into the wall, my pained face reflected in the smooth tile. A slipper came down again and again across my face. "That'll teach you to talk back to your mother. You think raising you this far was easy? You cause trouble every single day." Mom stood behind him with her arms crossed, satisfaction glinting in her eyes. "Hit him harder. I've put up with enough these past few months. He thinks he can do whatever he wants just because he ended up in the hospital once. "This isn't his house to be giving me attitude in." My lip split open. Waves of dizziness rolled through me, and the only sound that cut through was the occasional burst of laughter. Just beyond the wall, Preston and Carol were chatting. It wasn't that they didn't know I was being beaten. They just didn't care, because it had nothing to do with them. My fingers curled slowly into fists. I closed my eyes and felt myself sinking. Mom got me five days off school. The bruises on my face were too bad to hide. On the third day, my friends came to see me. Their faces froze for a second when the door opened. The worst of the wounds on my face had healed, but the bruises were still there, dark blue and purple. A wave of humiliation washed over me. Before I could say anything, Mom brushed past me and led my friends inside. "What are you standing there for? Go get your friends something to drink." "Mom, can you let them..." "Oh, now you're embarrassed?" Mom laughed, like she'd caught me at something, and couldn't wait to start unloading on my friends. "Since you're all good friends of Ronald's, I won't hide it from you. He's not sick. His father beat him. If I hadn't stepped in because I felt sorry for him, he wouldn't have half a life left in him." My friends' eyes all snapped to me at once, full of pity, shock, and disbelief. At school, I was the model student, good grades and good behavior. At home, I lived worse than a dog. "He's only got himself to blame for it. We gave him everything good we had, and it still wasn't enough for him. He even curses out his own parents." "Mom, stop..." My head hung low, my voice breaking no matter how hard I tried to hold it steady. Mom paused for a beat, then her voice climbed even higher. "He's gotten so used to being treated like a little prince in this house that he won't even lift a finger when we ask. What's the point of raising a kid this ungrateful?" Dad took the drinks out of my hands and set them down in front of my friends, all smiles. "We're the only ones who could ever put up with him like this. Even his brother and sister know better than to cross him. "Do you guys give in to him a lot at school too?" Dad smiled at my friends, coaxing them to say something humiliating about me, anything he could use as proof of how hard my parents had it raising me. I stood frozen, my whole body trembling. My friends looked at me, torn, mouths open but no words coming out. A couple of them had eyes rimmed red, on the verge of tears. But Mom kept pressing, practically gleeful. "Go on, don't be scared. Tell me how petty he is. Tell me all the awful things he's done." Still, nobody said a word. My deskmate, Tyler Cooper, worked up the nerve to move closer and take my hand. He said quietly, "Come out and get some air with us. It's Freddy's birthday today. Come celebrate with everyone." "He's not going anywhere. He's got dinner to cook." Mom got to her feet, her face darkening. She hadn't gotten the answers she wanted, and her patience was already running out. "It's getting late. You all should go." "Ma'am, could you let Ronald go out and relax for a bit?" Tyler took a deep breath and said it anyway. Mom blinked, like she'd just heard a joke. "Relax? What does he need to relax from? If anyone needs a break around here, it's us!" The more she thought about it, the more wronged she felt, and she rounded on me. "What is your friend implying? What suffering have you gone through in this house? What have we ever done to you? What have you been telling them?" "We didn't mean it like that. We just wanted..." Chapter 3 My friends looked terrified. Before they could even finish, Dad cut them off and threw them out. "That's enough. Leave." His face twisted with wounded sorrow. "Ronald's dragging you kids down with him. Stay away from him, or you'll end up as ungrateful as he is." My tears finally broke free as I fell apart and screamed at him, "Why would you say this about me in front of my classmates? What did I even do wrong?" "Ha. If you're so scared of us showing your true colors, maybe you shouldn't have acted the way you did." Mom lit up, practically thrilled, and pointed at me, shouting. "See? This is exactly how he loses it. I told you, didn't I?" She looked so pleased with herself, so righteous. Like driving me out of my mind was the single most rewarding thing she'd ever done. My friends couldn't take it anymore. One by one, they got up and fled through the door. Mom looked like she'd just won a war, and sighed with satisfaction. "See that? Even your own friends can't stand you. Just how bad do you have to be?" "They can't stand you!" I yelled and shoved past her and bolted for the door. I made it to the entryway before I heard Mom's heavy footsteps closing in behind me. A hand clamped down on my collar and yanked me back. "Stop right there. What did you just say?" Her lips trembled with rage. She raised her hand to hit me, then caught sight of the neighbors out of the corner of her eye. The slap froze in midair, then landed on her own face instead. "What did I ever do to deserve this? Why is God punishing me like this?" The neighbors rushed over to stop her. "Just talk it out. Don't hurt yourself." Mom looked like a woman carrying some unspeakable grief, tears streaming down her face. "It's bad enough he torments me at home. Now he's bringing his classmates into it too, making his father and me look like monsters. "I don't even want to live anymore. I've given in to him at every turn. If it weren't for him, I would have gotten a divorce years ago." She broke down sobbing and buried herself in Dad's arms. Dad pointed at me, his face a mask of grief. "He's driving us both out of our minds. All we ever wanted was for him to be healthy and happy. Why does that have to be so hard?" For a moment, time seemed to stop. The neighbors' voices lecturing me. My parents' wailing, so full of self-pity. All of it faded into nothing. I started crying like a madman, slapping myself across the face again and again. A flicker of coldness crossed my parents' faces. Then they just watched me in silence, like I was putting on another show. Then a scream cut through the air beside me. My body hit the ground hard. … When I woke up again, I was in a hospital. Mom was outside on the phone. "You have no idea. He's lost his mind again. I've suffered so much my whole life because of that kid. But what can I do? No matter what, he's still my son. "Mm-hm. I know you feel for me." She hung up, a look of satisfaction spreading across her face. Seconds later, she called her older sister, Denise Cohen. "Sis, you have no idea. I've thought about just ending it. "Haven't I given my whole life for him? He's the only one in this house with both his real parents together. Why can't he ever be satisfied? It's just so hard on me." She rambled on and on, and Denise spent a long stretch on the other end trying to comfort her. Mom finally let out a long breath and hung up, looking pleased with herself. She turned around, saw that I was awake, and the faint smile on her lips vanished. She walked over, cold and unhurriedly, and started tidying up her things. Light from the hospital hallway spilled in, making her look cold all over. "Ronald, playing crazy won't get you anywhere." I didn't say anything. She turned to look at me. "Since you're clearly not stable, you're not taking your finals this year." My eyes snapped wide open, filled with dread. She smiled slowly. "This is for your own good. What if you actually got into college and hurt someone there? That wouldn't be good for anyone." With that, she turned and left, locking the door tight behind her. Chapter 4 I cried. I cried for a long, long time. But deep into that same night, something became clear to me. Something that could finally set me free. So starting the next day, I became normal again, at least in Mom's eyes. I did everything she asked of me without complaint, and I stopped fighting back. A week later, she brought me home. The first thing waiting for me was a mountain of dirty dishes. "Go wash these. Nobody's helped me out these past few days. I'm exhausted." I didn't say anything. I just walked over and got to work. Next came a basket of laundry. Some of it couldn't go in the machine and had to be scrubbed by hand. I scrubbed away at the basin over and over. Partway through, my sister pushed the door open and dropped off two more pieces. She said like she cared, "Ronald, you're finally back." The smile on her lips was completely genuine. But it had nothing to do with me. It was because there was finally someone around to do her laundry again. "A stubborn brat like him just needs to be broken in. See? He's so much better behaved now." Mom's voice rang out, smug, as she left the room. She didn't even lower her voice when she saw me standing right there. I stayed silent, meek as a lamb. But Mom never had any intention of letting me go back to school. She wanted to teach me a lesson I'd never forget. Three days before my finals, a friend snuck me my admission ticket. I hid it at the very bottom of my backpack. That night, while we watched TV, Mom's gaze landed on my face, sharp and searching. "Everyone else is getting ready for the finals. You really don't feel jealous?" I said I did. She smiled, satisfied, and slid right into mocking me. "Jealous or not, you'll just have to live with it. You brought this on yourself." I said nothing else. On the morning of the exam, I kept my eyes on the clock. The second they left for work, I called a cab and headed straight for the test site. I'd already moved my things to a motel nearby. By the end of the first day of testing, I had fifty missed calls from my parents. "Where did you go? Did you sit for your finals?" "When are you ever going to learn to listen?" "Didn't I tell you, you're in no state to take this exam? Get back here right now, or I'll come drag you back myself!" I didn't reply. Instead, I spent every spare second studying for the next day's subjects. But the next morning, the moment I reached the test site, my parents spotted me. Their eyes lit up, and they came charging at me like starving wolves closing in on prey. But I was still one step faster. Mom looked ready to explode, glaring daggers at me. "Ronald, you just wait!" My heart hammered in my chest. I didn't look back. I spun around and ran straight into the test site. It was the one place that could actually change my life. Three subjects in a row, and I did well on every single one. By the afternoon, I let myself believe fate might actually be on my side. But in the end, they caught me anyway. Dad clamped a hand over my mouth and twisted my arm hard, dragging me toward the exit. Mom held herself back from hitting me, but her face was pure fury. "When are you ever going to stop giving me headaches?" The other parents by the entrance watched us, hesitating over whether to step in. I sank my teeth into Dad's hand. The moment his grip loosened, I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Let me take the exam, Dad! I don't want to work some factory job. Mom, I'll make money and take care of you both someday, I swear. Please, just let me take the exam." In an instant, most of the parents nearby closed in around us. Their faces mixed anger with disbelief. "He's just a kid. What is wrong with you two?" "The finals are important. Whatever this is about, can't it wait until after he's done?" "Let go of him right now, or I'm calling the police!" Mom's face flushed and paled by turns. "Don't listen to a word this brat says. He's not right in the head." But nobody believed her. One of the parents shot back, disgusted, "Sounds to me like you're the one who's not right in the head. What kind of mother stops her own son from taking his finals?" Dad flinched back under the crowd's glares and let go of my arm without meaning to. "Run!" Someone in the crowd, some woman I couldn't even place, shouted it out. I spun and sprinted back into the test site. All my parents could do was watch my back grow smaller and smaller. For the rest of the exam, a day and a half more, they didn't dare corner me again. The moment the exam ended, my parents showed up outside my motel with Preston and Carol in tow, rope clutched in their hands. "What room is my son Ronald Callinan staying in?" Dad planted himself at the front desk, radiating menace. This time, they'd fully made up their minds. They were going to tie me up and drag me home for good. The exam was over now, and there was nobody left to protect me. They were feeling smug, certain they'd thought of everything. But the next second, whatever the front desk clerk told them drained the color from their faces and froze them where they stood.