Mama Tried
by Jordyne Atkins
Mrs. Anderson
4th Period
May 17, 2012
Mama Tried
Dan remembered the first time he had ever wanted revenge. It was a knotted feeling in his gut. His fist had made contact almost instantly. The punch had been comeuppance for shoving one of his friends in a trash can. Dan was frozen with fear for the consequences that would follow. Blood was trickling down the stricken boys face as he looked up at Dan with a "why-did-you-just-punch-me?" kind of look.
"I…I…" Dan stuttered, at loss of words for his actions. He had punched someone for a small matter such as this. Dan turned away, his little shoes hitting the pavement as he ran. Tears of his own fell onto the ground as his legs felt like gelatin running through the halls of his elementary school.
Dan rubbed his eyes, disbursing the flash back. His back was pushed against the cold stone of a holding cell. His head drooped tiredly. By now Chris and Elise would be here. But no, it was Sunday. Elise's day with Chris - his best friend. They were two of the only people he called friends. He scowled and sighed miserably.
"Stupid paper boy," He groaned. He could hear the sheriff's radio playing an old country tune. He hated country music. It was stupid.
"Dear old daddy rest his soul left my mom a heavy load.
She tried so very hard to fill his shoes,
Working hours without rest wanted me to have the best,
She tried to raise me right but I refused,"
Dan scowled again, here came the annoying chorus.
"I turned 21 in prison doing life without parole.
No one could steer me right but mama tried, mama tried.
Mama tried to raise me better but her pleading I denied,
that leaves only me to blame cause mama tried."
And then it hit him. It was a dark feeling knowing that he was forgetting something. What was today? It seemed to be very important. Be he couldn't remember. Of course the nuisance of this song kept going but he zoned out and kept thinking and trying to remember. Dan scowled and felt even more annoyed. All that thinking had made him tired. He allowed himself to get semi comfortable on the battered holding cell's cot, his mind drifting to a peaceful abyss.
"AHEM!" Dan looked up tiredly as he raised his head to look at the sheriff. The bright florescent lights made him blink once or twice before he focused on the sheriff's figure.
"What is it?" Dan asked tiredly, sitting up and brushing his short hair to the side.
"It's time for you to get up off your rear end and get the heck outta here." The sheriffs drawl echoed inside the cell as the iron door swung back. Dan blinked while standing and slowly walked past the cell's threshold. Dan stood silently, looking back at the man.
"Well…Go. You're free to go," the sheriff said motioning to the station door. Dan simply shrugged, and uttered nonsensical words while walking toward freedom.
When he finally arrived home at his apartment, Dan noticed a yellow and white envelope stuck in the door jam. Dan's face scrunched up, his hand clenched in a fist.
"That better not be an eviction notice," He growled, stomping to the door. His eyebrows rose as he noted the unusual parcel. On it, his name was neatly written in cursive.
"What is THIS piece of junk?" He practically roared, scowling and picking it up and opening the door.
"Meeeeow!" His cat Mr. Mumbles was announcing her presence. Dan smiled down at the scruffy grey and white cat.
"Oh hello Mr. Mumbles! Did you sleep well?" Dan asked, picking her up and closing the door.
"Meow," The cat mewled back, rubbing her soft ears into his hand. Dan walked over to the couch, flopping down on it and stared at the card.
"Oh well I'm sorry…" Dan said setting her beside him. "Do we open it?" Mr. Mumbles gave a small yawn and kneaded Dan's blue jeans. Dan muttered an 'okay' and began to tear at the ugly yellow and white envelope. Upon tearing it open, he noticed a white card fall out and hit the ground. He picked it up, flipping it over and looking at it. Dan's eyes widened when he saw HAPPY BIRTHDAY largely printed in blue letters. As he inspected the outside of the card, he noticed glitter had fallen off in small specs. Dan scrunched his face up sourly, opening the glittery catastrophe. He scanned through the writing, noting it was from Chris and Elise.
In that split second, he realized what important event he couldn't seem to remember earlier in his cell. Dan realized that yesterday had been his birthday. How could he have forgotten? And suddenly, he thought about how he'd landed the night in jail in the first place. It was all because of the stupid neighborhood paper boy, busting the window of his car while pitching a paper at his cat. The actions of the paperboy required him to respond. In this case, he did so by taking the paperboy's bike and rolling over it with his car.
As a kid, he had been neglected by his parents. His dad didn't do as much for him as mother had. He was bullied so he always cheered for and defended the underdog as he grew older and bigger. In the case of yesterday, Mr. Mumbles and his car were the underdogs. His mom used to tell him that more often it was just better to turn the other cheek. Sure, she had tried to turn him in the right direction. But despite his mother's efforts, he took a good long look at where he was now! He was unemployed, living in an apartment, and wanting revenge on anyone who looked at him sideways. Dan heaved a loud sigh and let his leaden head droop in his hands. There where times when he wondered, just when had his mother stopped trying to change his choices for the better? Where had it all gone downhill and why couldn't he get back up? Dan groaned, causing Mr. Mumbles to purr while looking confused. Dan scowled once again as he recalled the tune of the country song replaying in his head. He seemed to remember more clearly the singer's raspy old voice, the main instrument chords ringing in his ears, and he just wanted to loudly roar.
Dan abruptly sprang up from his couch and stomped over to the old radio. He glared at it as he turned the dial to a station allowing it to settle. Now Dan was just plain angry. He wanted revenge. That consuming feeling that invades his mind and doesn't leave until he gets some sort of satisfaction. Because the radio was playing once again the same song that had angered him earlier;
"The first thing I remember knowing,
was a lonesome whistle blowing,
and a young un's dream of growing up to ride;
On a freight train leaving town,
not knowing where I'm bound,
No-one could change my mind but Mama tried.
One and only rebel child,
from a family, meek and mild:
My Mama seemed to know what lay in store.
Despite all my Sunday learning,
towards the bad, I kept on turning.
'Til Mama couldn't hold me anymore."
Dan was now even more annoyed. But there was something that kept him from changing the set of dials in front of him or busting the radio to pieces as the song went on;
"And I turned twenty-one in prison doing life without parole.
No-one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried.
Mama tried to raise me better,
but her pleading, I denied.
That leaves only me to blame 'cos Mama tried."
Dan stopped, walking himself back to the couch and sitting down beside his cat. The feline crawled into his lap, and Dan smiled for once in a very long time. He had turned 21 in prison. Was someone from above sending this message to him? Was his mother watching over him now?
He sat on his couch for several minutes or possibly closer to an hour. Maybe that song wasn't so bad. It made him think about his mistakes. One of them was regret for not listening to his mother, who really had tried hard to turn him right. But whatever choices he made from this point on, he only had himself to blame.