I was looking over my stories, and saw that story about Pop, so I decided to write one about Cub. And here it is. c:
The first three years of Cub's life were probably the most difficult years he ever went through. At the time, he was only three. He didn't understand what was going on, at those times, but he knew they weren't good. Cub was five now. And things were still difficult. The worse part being, he still didn't understand.
The young boy just barely remembered meeting his "mother" in the grave when he turned three. His father had told him that she was in a better place now, called heaven. Which sounded good. But it still… wasn't good enough.
Being in kindergarden, Cub got to learn about God, and that heaven was a good place. He was taught that God loved everyone. That the people in heaven would be loved eternally. Whatever that meant. That people loved people who would be still alive, but God loved them more. It made Cub feel happy, knowing that his mama was in a good place, where she was loved.
He still didn't understand, though. Why was his Mama up there? And why was she in the ground? And how did she manage to get into heaven? His father never told him why, or how. Sometimes when he had trouble sleeping at night, he'd think about what it'd be like if his Mama was still alive to this day. Or what it was like in heaven. And if she was alive to this day, would his father be more happy? Would he not sleep all day? Would he pay more attention to Cub? There were so many questions, but so little answers.
Cub was jealous of the kids he knew in his kindergarten class. At the end of the day, when the bell rang, when all the coats were on, and the bags were packed, the kids would sit around on a bench in the hallway, waiting for their parents to come pick them up. One by one they would come. Cub realized something. The majority of the time, it was all mommies who came to pick up their children. The children would run to their mommies, who would be smothered in hugs and kisses, being picked up, and twirled around in the air. They would then proceed out of the building, to go home, making chat about how the day went.
Cub was usually the last one to be picked up. And it was always by his papa. He'd always look exhausted, and worn out. The teachers had spoken to his papa thousands of times, exclaiming how he couldn't keep coming late, that he had to care for his child. And the responses would always be the same, coming from his papa. "I know, I'm sorry. I got distracted." His papa never seemed to be excited to see his son, even if he tried to put in an effort. He was moody, a lot of the time. One day, he'd be really joyful, and pay attention to Cub, when other days, Cub was invisible to him.
Some days, Cub went without dinner, or came to school missing a lunch, or the supplies he needed. The teachers would ask him about it, asking if things were alright at home, in which Cub would reply with, "Everything is fine." And would go on with his day. Most of the time, Cub found that the teachers would supply his lunch. Which he didn't terribly mind, seeing as he would get things like ham sandwiches, or apples, and sometimes, even cookies!
School was alright, for the most part, besides not being able to have a lunch from home, or being picked up really late. But he did like school. He got to play, and he had friends. It was pretty fun! Although, there were a few things that weren't that great.
One time, Cub over heard his teacher talking to another teacher. About him. And his papa. And something called child services. Cub didn't understand what child services were, but he caught the teachers saying things like, "taking away Cub from Pop," and other things that scared the poor little boy.
And another thing was, the bullies. The people who would pick on him, and tease him, because he didn't have a mother like every one else, so he must be some sort of freak. It hurt. Teachers would find him crying in a corner, after someone bullied him.
But despite that, the worse thing was being at home. Sure, Cub got to watch tv, and sleep, and he could find food in the drawers he could reach, but his papa never payed attention to him. He was always sleeping. Sometimes, when Cub would enter his papa's room, to ask if he wanted to play, or to ask if something was wrong, Pop would just tell him to leave him alone. Sometimes he didn't answer.
There was one thing he looked forward to, however. Sleeping. Sometimes, he'd have dreams of his mama, encouraging him to go on with living, to do his best in school, try to get Pop out of bed and pay attention to him. To live life to the best of his abilities. She'd tell him that she loved him with all her heart, and that she would always be watching over him, guiding him through life. Sometimes, Cub would dream that his mama would come and pick him up from school, smothering him in hugs and kisses, and talk to him about how his day went, and then come home to his papa. His mama would set him down, turning on the tv set for him, before walking over to Pop to kiss him, and sort out an after school snack for Cub. He dreamt that he had the perfect life with the perfect parents.
And these dreams gave him the hope and will to live life to it's best.