I don’t know why I did it. I’m not even sure it’s that big of a deal. No one knows. No one will ever know.
I hate where I live now. Before now, my house was big. It was white and we had an upstairs. We had a pool, a pool of our own. Not a pool that is downstairs and around the corner, between two buildings. Not a pool where everyone can see me in my bathing suit. One we didn’t even have to share.
We had a laundry room – in the house. Not a laundry room where I have to take someone’s underwear out of the dryer, someone I don’t even know.
I had my own room, not one I had to share with my brother when he comes to visit. Not a room I have to give up when my uncle comes to stay with us.
A house that had a kitchen, but not like the kitchen I have now – full of cockroaches. Cockroaches that won’t let me get a snack in the middle of the night because they are everywhere when the lights are off.
A house with a backyard, big enough room to play soccer and have a tetherball court and a basketball court.
And backyard with trees, not a balcony with a bunch of ignored and dying plants.
A place I didn’t have to pretend we don’t have a cat.
A place that I didn’t have to pretend anything.
So, when my friend said, “We can take you home”, there was no way I was going to take them there. There, to the place where my life sucks and my hopes die. There, where I fight with my mother because she is as unhappy as I am.
So, “Yes, I would love a ride home. Take me to the top of the hill. Yep, this is my house on the one on the right. Oh yes, thank you it’s a nice house.”
No one knows I don’t really live there.
“Oh, but no, you don’t need to walk me to the door. No one will ever know. Ha ha, thanks for the ride. You can go. I guess my mom isn’t home yet.”
No one knows.
“I’ll check if the side gate is open. See you tomorrow.”
And there I will sit and wait – five, ten minutes. They will have gone and now I will walk myself back. Back down the hill. Back down to the busy street. Back, across the street from the McDonald’s. Back into the dark apartment where the cockroaches live and the only one to welcome me home is my cat.
I am 10 and I don’t know why I did it, but it feels wrong.
Forgive me, father.
Writer - Ivory James 