~o~
He first learned what pain tasted like when Royce, who lived across the street, punched him in the jaw for talking back at him. He was five years old and didn't know that men weren't supposed to cry so he began to sob in big, gaping gasps that had his grandmother rushing outside to see what was wrong.
"Stupid little punk," Royce had jeered. "Crying like a little bitch!"
His grandmother had reprimanded Royce immediately and told him she better not see him around. Royce had run away a few weeks later. He was only twelve and Edward didn't understand why he was always so angry. Grandma said that it was because Royce hadn't been hugged enough as a child and he wondered why his mom and dad never hugged him. Was there something wrong with him?
He was seven years old when his grandmother first punished him. He'd stolen a dollar in quarters from her purse as a dare from his cousin, Emmett, and he'd been punished by having his television privileges taken away. He'd pouted because he had wanted to watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles that afternoon and instead had to sit in the kitchen helping his grandmother prepare dinner.
She had looked at him with quiet, dark eyes as she mixed the dough with her hands before speaking. "Edward," she had said solemnly. "Do you know why I punished you?"
"Because I did something bad," he had replied sullenly and she had nodded her head, before wiping her hands with a wet rag. She had knelt down on the kitchen floor, cupping his chin in his hands and studying him silently before saying, "Your mom and dad aren't loving people. They don't know how to raise children, Edward. I think it's because I never really connected with your father when he was your age. He was always more like your grandfather than me."
"Why don't they ever hug me?" he had asked, tears filling his eyes. "Don't they love me, Grandma?"
"Oh, they love you, sweetheart," she had sighed as she wrapped him in her arms, smelling like spices and homemade bread. "They love you but don't know how to show it." And he had cried in the kitchen, into his grandmother's shoulder.
It was the last time he would let her see him cry. Men don't cry.
~o~