Disclaimer: He's mine. All mine. And you can't have him. And I won't share. So don't ask. Um. Okay, so he's not. But that doesn't mean I can't dream, does it? Anyway, I'm not making any money off of this, so don't sue me, okay? I don't own the song, either. The Five Stairsteps do (whoever they are). Given my choice, I'd take him over the song, royalties or not.
A/N: Reviews welcome. Archiving okay, just let me know where.
When I finally get around to getting my domain off the ground, I'll probably
reciprocate with a link. I'm not sure I'm happy with this piece; it seems
I had much more to say when I first started.
___________________________________________________________________________
Ooh-oooh, child, things are gonna get easier
Ooh-oooh, child, things'll get brighter
I hear that song on the radio sometimes and it always takes me back. Some people say you can't remember back to when you were a baby, but I can. I can remember my mom holding me next to her, softly singing that song. Even at that young age, I could distinguish the longing in her voice as she sang the words, the hope that it might actually be true.
I think she was sixteen when she and the old man got married. I know that from my earliest memories she looked young, even when experience had conspired to rob her of her hopes, her dreams. And I played my part in that theft, too. She always said it wasn't my fault, but I know better. If it hadn't been for me...
Some day, we'll get it together and we'll get it all done
Some day when your head is much lighter
She never wanted me to know the truth, but fuck, I'm not stupid. I can do the math. Look at the date on my birth certificate, and look at the date on their marriage license. Six and a half months apart. You tell me it wasn't a shotgun wedding. I think that also might be why things always seemed strained between her and my grandpop, her father. Like maybe she'd let him down, disappointed him. Italian men can be stupid sometimes. And yes, I include myself in that generalization, too.
I killed my mother. I killed her by being born. True, the death took a few years to happen, but I killed her just the same. How fucking stupid is that? If it hadn't been for me...
Some day, we'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun
Some day when the world is much brighter
If I hadn't come along, she could have finished school, gone to college, found something she really wanted to do with her life. Maybe figured out what a fucking jerk the old man was before it was too late. Found someone who would have treated her the way she deserved to be treated. Someone who wouldn't have hit her, hit her son, raped her daughter. They say he was the one who killed her, but I know better. She never would have been in that situation if not for me.
And it's times like these when I hear that song on the radio and hear that sweet voice in my head that I wonder who the fuck I think I'm fooling. Here I am, wearing these scrubs, my stethescope around my neck, my ID tag with "Dr." in front of my name. I look like a doctor, like someone who saves people. But I know the truth. I'm a fucking murderer. If it hadn't been for me...
Ooh-oooh child, things are gonna get easier
Ooh-oooh child, things'll get brighter