I loved my mother so much. She was a drug addict. She was an alcoholic. She was legally blind. She was a schizophrenic. But I never forgot that she loved me. Even when she did.
All the time.
Hajime's mother ran into the dingy living room, chasing one of her three sons and screaming 'give me back my money! It's mine!'
Like usual, eight-year old Hajime's dad did nothing to help his schizophrenic wife. The t.v was turned up all the way, some stupid game show on. Hajime's brother, Makoto, yelled back at his mother.
"How can you your kids aren't eating why are you spending your money on things we don't need?" He screamed as his mother tackled him to the floor. The woman tore at his clothes, searching for the cash she thought Makoto had stolen.
He managed to get up and ran out of the room, his mother at his heels.
"I gave you a hundred!"
"It's for us to live on!" Makoto yelled as his mother pinned him against the wall. He managed to get away. "Every month it's the same damn thing! So you can put it in your arm so we can starve!"
"It's mine!"
"I didn't take it!"
While they were arguing, Hajime stepped into the bedroom he shared with his brothers and reached under the small bed he slept on, pulling out a small wad of cash. Trembling, he walked back to the living room and held the money out towards his mother. The woman saw it.
"Give it to me, it's mine!"
As his mother grabbed Hajime's wrist, Makoto grabbed Hajime's arm and struggled to pull the boy's arm away.
"We're starving!"
"Do you want me to go out to the street and sell myself for it? You know I do that sometimes."
Finally, Hajime's dad stepped in, sort of.
"Come on he doesn't need to hear that."
The woman dropped to the floor, releasing her hold on Hajime's wrist. She looked up at him.
"Please, I need it."
Tears dripped down her face.
That's what did it for Hajime. He gave his mother the money. She looked up at him, smiling, not at him, but at the memory of the high she was finally going to be able to receive.
I wanted that smile. Oh God I wanted to see her smile so badly. I was pathetic, wasn't I?
My father, you could sit down on the couch and talk with my father. You just couldn't talk to him for long. He knew so much, he got all the answers right on Jeapordy. He was a genius.
That's the thing. Your parents are your gods. I looked at them as an example of what I should find everywhere in the world. And they paid so little attention to my needs. But then their need seemed so powerful, that it didn't make me feel angry or hurt they never really looked at me. Because I felt that was normal.
And then everyone else butted in.
Hajime's mother was in the middle of another episode.
"No mommy!" Hajime said as his mom accused him of something, the words coming out as gibberish Hajime didn't understand.
"I'm not your mother!"
Hajime's brothers, Makoto and Nagito, gently grabbed his arms.
"C'mon Hajime, if they see this mess they'll take us too!" Nagito said, worried about what the social workers would think.
A police officer came in then. Two, actually, with an EMT. The paramedic unloaded a gurney while the policemen restrained Hajime's mom.
"What happened to the window?" One asked, eyeing the broken glass.
"She tossed a lamp at the window." Makoto muttered, looking at the stained carpet.
A terrified Hajime watched as his mother was injected with some kind of drug and a social worker walked in.
"This place is a mess, why don't you help your mother instead of lazing about?!"
Hajime jumped as a police officer picked up his bruised wrist.
"What happened here?"
"I fell down!"
He pulled down his sleeve after that.
"Hajime!"
The boy ran after the paramedic that was wheeling his mother down the stairs as she called for him, ignoring the social workers warnings about homes and boys that'll beat him and take everything he has.
Couldn't they see? Anyone could see! She was in so much pain! Her struggle was so much on the surface, if anyone cared to ever look, it was right there! It wasn't like she was running off to be a good mother to somebody else, she just, didn't have any more to give.