As he stood beside his younger son, Jim Atwood reflected. When had his life started to spiral out of control?
Was it at sixteen, when after six months of dating and five months of sleeping together, Dawn had announced that she was pregnant? He still remembered the ice-cold feeling that drained through his body that day. His hopes and dreams extinguished like a light. He had done the right thing. His teachers were disappointed when he dropped out; they had had such high hopes for him. It wasn't often that they taught a child of his ability in this school. Most kids in his high school had an apprenticeship at the local factory as their goal in life. His teachers had said that college was not out of the question. It was now.
Was it after Trey was born, when they struggled to look after a baby when they were barely grown themselves? The daily tussle to pay rent and bills and to buy groceries meant dealing with their finances became like building a house of cards, one small mistake and it would all come crashing down. Robbing Peter to pay Paul, borrowing more here, there. Everything was a balancing act.
After Ryan arrived Dawn was sick for months. Jim couldn't quite grasp what was wrong but she cried at the slightest thing, seemed incapable of making simple decisions and sat for hours in a trance like state. He would return from work to find Trey hungry and dirty and the baby screaming inconsolably. He helped when he could but he was holding down two jobs, running to catch up as the debts mounted.
Back in the living room, Jim mulled over his thoughts. Would he have done things differently at sixteen? Maybe he should have persuaded Dawn to have an abortion, maybe put the baby up for adoption? No. He treasured his children and the memories they had given him. Treys first smile, Ryan's first halting steps, their first words. No matter what his life was like, he couldn't imagine it without them.