I was winging this thing. Sometimes I felt so acutely alone. My parents were dead, my husband was a dead beat who left us years ago. Daniel and me, we only had me to depend on. I didn't always know what to do. I thought this move to the west coast would be good for both of us, I got this job in computers with benefits. It was supposed to be paradise out here, all palm trees and swimming pools. And the winters in Newark were making me weary, just tired deep in my soul. I needed a change.
I saw Daniel's face when he saw the swimming pool. The apartment building was a little run down and I was disappointed, too. But I try to have hope that things will be good, that things can be good, that things will work out. I have to have that hope. Sometimes it's all I have.
And Daniel, I'm worried about him. Something is bothering him. He keeps showing up with all these injuries and he always has excuses but I don't know. Teenagers are so secretive, you never know what's real with them, especially being the parent. Why would he tell me anything? It's hard at this age, it's hard when they're 16. You know, he's growing up but he isn't grown up yet, and I'm not so sure how much to do for him and how much to let him figure out on his own, and when he won't tell me anything what can I do? Sometimes I miss that little boy he used to be, that little boy with the black hair and big brown eyes who would tell me everything and I could kiss every hurt away. It isn't so simple anymore.
Even though he won't talk to me about anything I know Daniel isn't happy here. I can see it in his face. I can hear it in his voice. It makes me feel guilty for ripping him away from everything he's ever known. I didn't ask him if he wanted to come here because maybe I was afraid that he would have said he didn't want to. I'm trying to succeed, I'm trying to have a decent job and a decent life despite my ex-husband leaving us high and dry when Daniel was little. I'm trying to be mother and father to him. I'm earning the bread and baking it, too. And sometimes I feel stretched a little thin. Sometimes I feel that there isn't enough of me to go around. It's hard to work all day and then clean all night and cook and pay the bills and coordinate life and figure out a mysterious teenager with pain in his eyes who just won't talk to me. I see him sitting on the couch at night, so quiet. That's not like him. He's always been this chatterbox, but since we got here he's been quiet. I say, "Daniel, what's wrong?" and he says nothing, shakes his head and says nothing is wrong.
The computer job fell through but I found another one the very same day. It's at a restaurant and it's a manager position with good benefits. I roll with the punches. I'd work around the clock at McDonald's if I had to. But the restaurant job is taking up a lot more of my time than the computer job would, what with the training sessions and the long hours. I'm not there for Daniel to talk to even if he wanted to talk. And it's easy to get into the groove of your routine. I go my way and he goes his way, but still, things are nagging at me. He said he fell off his bike and that's how he got that black eye. I don't believe him. Someone did that to him. But who? It's never been like him to get into fights. Maybe he got mugged or something and he doesn't want to tell me.
I feel like I'm just waiting for some shoe to drop. Waiting for whatever is wrong with him to come to light, and I can't ask him and I can't rush it. I don't like that. I like to rush in, fix problems, find solutions. But I'm not even sure where the problem lies. Is it bullies? Is it fights that he's starting? Is he so out of control now that he'd resort to violence like that? I don't know. I didn't raise him like that and I never thought he was like that but this teenager thing, they're so different. So difficult. Half the time I don' know what to say to him, I don't know what to say as he grows up right in front of my eyes.
I love him more than anything even though I'm a little bit lost right now. It was easier when he was younger and I seemed to have all the answers. Now I have none of them. I'm just as clueless as the next guy. All I know is we've got to stick it out, persevere, be strong. I know this. I wonder if he does?
I worked all day and feel so tired now. I drive home and hear a strange rattling somewhere under the car and hope it holds out to get me home. I didn't feel like standing in the exhaust by the side of the road. I pulled into the parking space and glanced up at the apartment. I can see the flicker of the T.V. and I know he's home. I look forward to seeing him despite knowing it will be short answers and small nods to all my questions. Up the stairs in the dark, key in the lock, and he looks up when I step inside. Even in the dark blue glow of the T.V. I can see the fading bruise around his eye. I feel worry and love pour into me, pumping through my heart and throughout my entire body. Sometimes there just is no way to help people, especially the ones you love the most.
