In Our Darkness - 17. Chapter 17: The Secrets We Keep

“Get up, little asshole!” six-year-old Andy felt his twin mattress shake underneath him with force, but he wasn’t startled. This was the typical morning routine for him. In fact, this was nicer than usual—only one kick today. Little Andy got up and proceeded to dutifully make his bed. It wasn’t required of him, in fact, his mother hadn’t been to his room in about three months so she wouldn’t know any different. She most likely wouldn’t know if a dinosaur lived under Andy’s bed. But the little boy felt better when, amidst the dirt and the chaos, he could always crawl into a made bed. Sure, the sheets weren’t super fresh, but at least aesthetically, the bed looked clean. This little bit of organization in the middle of the disorderly and messy house gave him great comfort.

After he made the bed, he proceeded to shower. His skinny body shivered under the cold water. The hot water had been shut off a long time ago, and it didn’t seem like it was coming back anytime soon. But he still washed himself as diligently as he could. The thought of smelling bad and other kids making fun of him forced him to endure the cold showers long enough to make sure he was properly clean. Sometimes Andy thought of venturing into the kitchen and boiling some water in order to take a warm bath, but he always decided against it in the fear that Paul was there. It would just give him more ammunition to pick on Andy. He would say Andy was wasting gas, and if he wanted to use things in the house he had to start contributing.

Andy tried cleaning up, being helpful, but Paul did not consider that to be “contributing.” He’d say, “Get a job you little asshole.” Which Andy wasn’t sure how to do at six-years-old. When he asked his elementary school teacher she laughed and said he was adorably ambitious. She laughed in a nice way, unlike how the other kids usually laughed at him. He was a shy kid, not very talkative and usually wearing the same clothes, therefore not very popular either. His favorite part of school was reading and getting good grades on his assignments, as it gave him a deep sense of pride and accomplishment. Like he was doing something right. Nobody else praised him for anything, so getting a good grade felt like getting a warm hug from someone who loved him.

After his shower Andy put on yesterday’s clothes and meekly made his way into the kitchen, trying to stay unnoticed. Staying under the radar meant he had less of a chance of getting his head whacked by his stepfather. Paul was a mean man. But for some reason, Andy’s mom didn’t care. For some reason, she loved Paul, and she loved him more than she loved Andy or his safety and wellbeing. Six-year-old Andy was keenly aware of that fact. He didn’t understand why, but he knew it to be true. A simple fact of life. That’s just how it was. Sometimes we loved people more than we loved other people.

But he also knew that not all mothers were like this. Tom’s mom gave him freshly baked chocolate chip cookies as snacks and let him pick out a new set of Spiderman sheets the last time he got a good grade. Jake’s mom gave him hugs and kisses that he seemed embarrassed by every time she dropped him off at school. Andy envied Tom and Jake and wished he could have a mom who would embarrass him with hugs and kisses. He wished for it more than anything else. More than a Gameboy or a trip to Disneyland.

He also wished he could have a dad like Tom and Jake, a dad who’d call him “buddy” and teach him all about baseball. Paul didn’t know anything about baseball, Paul called everything “stupid,” including Andy. The fact that he didn’t have a loving mom or caring dad made him feel like maybe something was wrong with him, or maybe he did something that made his mom treat him differently than other mothers treated their kids. It would take many years for Andy to understand that he wasn’t the one who was defective in that relationship.

There was never a lot of food in the house, and Andy mostly survived off of strawberry pop tarts and cocoa puffs, which he would prepare for himself when nobody was around. Sometimes his mother would remember his existence, usually when she needed to borrow money from someone, which is when she would take him on a drive with her and act nice towards him. They typically went to see “grandpa.” Andy remembered going to see him for the last time a few months ago. Grandpa, who was actually Paul’s dad, and his mom had a fight. Andy didn’t know why, he just heard words like “worthless mother”, “deadbeat” and “you’re not getting another cent from me until you both go to rehab.” Andy didn’t know it then, but he would not see his grandpa for another 12 years.

Andy didn’t have many toys, and when he wasn’t at school, he was mostly left alone at the house to watch TV throughout the day. He would get so jealous whenever there was a loving family on screen. A mother who cooked dinner, beautiful houses and brand-new clothes and a dad who played games with his kids. He wanted nothing more than that kind of life. He wished the TV family could just take him away, adopt him.

One night, after his mother had already passed out in a pile of her vomit, Andy noticed that Paul was being restless. Like he was itching for something stupid to do. He kept drinking more and more beer, kept circling around the kitchen and living room. Finally, he put on a jacket and looked at Andy.

“Let’s go for a ride.”