1- Crushed

Chapter One of another attempt at a novel.

My name is Alan Jacobs, and I have dyslexia. The last day of my sophomore year of High School was destroyed with a big red stamp on my report card. During the time of year when I was supposed to be enjoying the summer heat and lovely girls in short shorts, I would be spending in summer school. I opened that envelope, expecting to see some bad grades, but not this...

The red stamp traveled off the paper into my veins like the venom of a copperhead. I was in physical agony. There was nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing that could make my day, or my life any worse.

As if it weren't bad enough that I recently lost my brother to a deployment with the local reserve unit, now I don't even have anyone to complain to about this. Not even my Dad, who truth be told, has the compassion of a badger.

He divorced my Mother two years ago and since then I'm lucky if I get a phone call. My father is what one may call a man's man, and me, well, I'm a puny, good for nothing, good at nothing, ugly waste of human space.

My paternal Grandfather was born in Russia. My father takes pride in his heritage and considers me the leftover waste of the garbage disposal of a family that we've turned into.

My brother, Ryan, on the other hand, he's the gem that accidently got dropped down the drain.

Ryan doesn't have an ounce of respect for the man. He thinks he's a hypocritical, overly judgmental son of a gun. I don't remember my Grandfather, but Ryan tells me that he was the kindest, most compassionate man he's ever known.

Perhaps that's where Ryan gets his geniune good nature from. Definitely not from the old man. My Father thinks that men should be tough. Emotionless, like robots, and I don't blame my Mother for not wanting to stay married to him, what makes me wonder is how she stayed married to him for as long as she did.

My Dad has the temper and predictability of a tornado, and unfortunately, the people that he claims to love most end up in his path way too often.

I got home late, and checked my cell phone. Strange enough there weren't any missed calls from my Mother, the worry wart, Which in itself had me worried.

Ma, I called as I burst through the door.

No answer...

Ma?

I heard sobbing from down the hall. I sighed, the old man must have been here again. He must have really put her down bad this time.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, hands covering her flushed face. Her shirt soaked from tears.

I've never, ever seen her this upset. Not over anything.

“What's wrong Ma? What is it?

I glanced quickly at the table then back at her, but before I could completely bring my attention back to her my heart dropped.

An official letter, with Department of the Army letterhead lay in front of her. Judging by her actions, it couldn't possibly be good news.

Author's Note

Please ignore the grammar, This is a rough draft. I am hoping I'm on the right track with this. I am open to any suggestions and help I can get.