Memories of my Childhood

A Story by T.

It was an exercise on a book entitled Clear Out the Static in you Attic. The challenge was to choose an epigraph and make a story out of it.

I remember my own childhood vividly…I knew terrible things. But I knew I mustn’t let the adults know I knew. It would scare them. �"Maurice Sendak

It had been a long day. As I put my feet on the wooden table, I let my gaze swept every corners of the living room. I didn’t know how it happened but all of a sudden, I was brought back fourteen years into the past.

And there I was, in the house I called home for twenty-one years. Years younger but somehow as I looked into my eyes, I looked older.

My parents seemed like lovers deeply in love but my seven-year old self knew better. I heard numerous times the words “I love you” escaped their lips yet I never felt the love in those words as I heard them in the night. When my father talked on the phone. When my mother whispered on her phone.

Mr. Balzac was our neighbor and a college teacher. He was very nice to me. He gave me chocolates and candies every Halloween. And he was also friendly to his lady students. I would always see a girl, a student of his leave his house in the middle of the night. I once thought, “Mr. Balzac’s very kind to teach his students even at night.” I was so wrong.

One night, I woke to the sound of moaning. I thought it was a cat trapped in a tree but no, it wasn’t. I did not see a cat. It was coming from Mr. Balzac’s house.

I was friends with the old lady living alone on the other side of the road opposite from us. She rarely left her home. I forgot how she came to be one of my friends but that mattered no more. She died long ago due to old age. But back to my story, I visited her many times in a week to talked just about anything. Her Roberto, her children, life. I heard genuine love in her stories. How I knew it was genuine? I didn’t know. But somewhere in my chest, I knew.

I would continuously asked her, “Where’s your Roberto, Mami?” “Where are your children?” But to no avail. She never answered them, just shared old memories with me.

Until one day, someone came knocking on her front door. I opened it and came face to face with Marina, one of her children. I was about to greet her when she barreled past me and loomed over her mother. It was the first time I saw fear and hurt and love in Mami’s face all at once.

“I came here to say Papi died, I figured you need to know.” said Marina, ice in every spoken word. When Mami would’ve answered, Marina spoke again. “But we agreed that you mustn’t come to his funeral. We wouldn’t want his last days on earth to be stained by your presence, you unfaithful b***h.” Mami was rooted on the spot so was I, shocked but Marina was oblivious. She was on a roll. “You should’ve had never conceived that b*****d! We could’ve had a nice life together. You should’ve had never cheated!”

Then I opened my eyes. My watch told me that only a minute had past. It felt like hours to me.

As a young child, I wasn’t just christened by God’s grace. I was also christened by lies, betrayal and evil. But I knew that I would live a life different from theirs. I would live my life to the fullest. Cliché, I know but I don’t care. I vowed that my life would be filled with happiness and honesty and love.

© 2014 T.

Author's Note

Don't be harsh on me. This is my first short story. So, please. I'M JUST SIXTEEN. Don't crush me! :D

THIS IS NOT MY CHILDHOOD, MIND YOU. JUST A PRODUCT OF MY IMAGINATION. :-)