Story of the Second Son Chapter Five
A Fistful of Reasons
SOMEWHERE IN THE GULF
REGION 0600 HOURS
SERGEANT GOREN WRITES
IN A JOURNAL
I was the kid brother. I was the tagalong. It was 1971 and I was fast approaching the double digits. Ten years old and I felt like I was becoming a man. I wanted to be like my big brother and I still wanted to be like my father at times. I started playing basketball more instead of baseball, I helped mom out at the library and the world seemed simple and wonderful. That naive view of the world wouldn't last long though.
Mom was changing and had been for a few years. I could tell it was getting worse, whatever it was, Frank probably knew she was getting sicker but acted as if the problem wasn't there, dad just stayed gone.
In 1971 he stayed gone for good. After a big fight one night about the way mom was acting he packed up his things, what little he had, and stormed out of our second floor apartment. I followed him down the stairs screaming at him the whole way. I chased his car all the way to the corner, still screaming, I don't even remember what I was yelling, words of contempt or words begging him to stay. Or maybe words of forgiveness or words of hate.
I stood there in the middle of the street and watched his car drive away. It was the only car we had, from then on we took the bus. As the summer sun beat down on my back and stretched out my shadow in front of me, it created the illusion that I was bigger than I was, taller. But I think that day I felt the person inside of me grow and stretch to the same size. At eleven years old I was a different person.
Neighbors started to leak out of their dark air conditioned apartments to see what was going on. Why was this little boy screaming in the street? Why was this woman from the second floor apartment hanging out the window screaming, "Bobby! Bobby!"
My feet felt like lead as I came back into the apartment. Mom was now a heap on the hot sticky linoleum floor. With the air out and the days events we were all drenched with sweat. Frank stood silently in our bedroom doorway and glared at me. I think he blamed me for all of this more than he blamed anybody, why I could never guess.
On his way out the front door he punched me hard and dead center in my gut. I doubled over in silence but never hit the ground, I wouldn't lay on the linoleum like my mother. Not yet anyway.
We didn't see Frank for four days. My mother didn't see reality for six. I haven't seen sanity in myself, not true quiet tranquility, in a long time. But I want to find it, I have a fistful of reasons to.
I've got to go now though, convoy is about to leave. Mother would tell me to pray for no IEDs this trip, so for her I guess I will. Tomorrow I will write a letter to mom.
He boards the desert colored vehicle and heads off back into 'the shit'.
A/N: I haven't written for a very long time. I only have two CI fics and both are unfinished. This one and the ever popular "Fun Week." Both will be finished eventually. Hey I finally got another chapter on this thing, woo! After I finish these two I hope to write a casefile but I don't want to start something else I can't quite finish. So let me know what you think of this. Future chapters will include plenty of military stuff, for example; how he got his purple heart. Thanks everyone who reviews, it is extremely helpful. Oh and FYI, the title of this chapter was taken from an episode of "The Brady Bunch." A little throwback to "Endgame" and Mark Ford Brady. I imagine that show wasn't allowed on the tube much in the Goren household. I'm going to bring that up later as well. Anyway... :)