Chapter 4.6: (The nightmarish past)
Weeks passed, and the house grew quieter each day. The money people gave after my mother's death was almost gone. With it, the small feeling of safety I had also disappeared.
"I... I needed to work so I can keep this place."
I said it aloud one night, my voice echoing in the empty house. But the walls did not answer.
One day, as I clean the house I remembered the flowers I had picked for my mom but never got to give her. I searched my bag for them, only to find that they had wilted. However, I spotted a letter stuck in my notebook. It was a letter from my mom, saying her goodbyes and thanking me. It brought a mix of sadness and comfort, knowing that she had left behind her words of love and gratitude for me to discover during such a difficult time.
- I am very sorry for not being strong, my precious child. I turned to alcohol to drown my sorrows and neglected you. I am deeply sorry for the difficult times you endured after your father left us. I truly regret not being there for you when you started working. I apologize for missing your birthday celebrations and not being able to appreciate the sweet-smelling flowers you picked for me. Thank you for the lovely gifts you gave me, despite my failings as a mother. I am grateful that you remained by my side until the very end. I love you, my baby, And I'm sorry... I'm sorry mama will rest for now.
As I read my mother's letter, my eyes welled up with tears. I wiped away the tears to clear my vision, but more tears flowed uncontrollably. Yet, Despite the pain, I felt happy, as if she were here—comforting me, hugging me, patting my head, and humming just like she did when I was a younger, the act of crying began to soothe my aching heart. Slowly but surely, the remaining heaviness that always weighed on my heart seemed to lift.
Once I felt better, I began living independently, without assistance from my relatives. I would attend school in the mornings and work in the evenings to cover the costs of my apartment and also for my food.
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years.
In my first year alone, I was in grade 5 and already 10 years old. It wasn't easy being alone. I went home tired after school, already thinking about my assignments, projects, and two hours of work at the nearby restaurant. When I came home, I always found myself in a dark, empty room. But when I saw my mama's photo, I smiled and said,
"I'm home, Mother. Did you wait? Sorry I'm late. I'll cook dinner for us."
I cooked food for two, even though I knew I was alone. I knew I was wasting money and food, but it made me feel like she was there, eating with me.
"Did you like it, Ma?" I asked softly, eating while staring at her photo on the desk with the food in front of it.
I did the laundry and used the same conditioner she used, but I never washed her clothes. I didn't want her scent to fade away. I knew I could get through this somehow.
Year 2 – 11 years old, 6th grade
I was absent for a few days because I was sick.
Every weekend, I went to church, and the rest of my time I spent working to earn money. My relatives used to say that Mama was just working in heaven. I told myself, "I'll be good, so I can go there too. Just wait for me, Mom."
Year 3 – 12 years old, first year of junior high school
I was absent again because I got sick. I lay in bed, breathing hard. I bought my own medicine since I had no money for a doctor. I stared at the dark ceiling as my body ached. I felt dizzy and cold. Every time I touched my skin, it hurt.
I had no one to rely on but myself. I knew only I could get through this.
"It hurts..." I whispered.
Year 4 – 13 years old, second year of junior high school
Some classmates bullied me because the bottom of my shoes was falling off. But I didn't mind them, as long as I could still go to school.
"Why are they doing this? Is it fun?" I asked myself, watching them from afar — their neat clothes ironed by their parents, the food they ate, the new shoes they wore.
I was jealous.
I wasn't jealous of their new bags, clothes, or shoes. I was jealous because they still had their mothers.
Year 5 – 14 years old, third year of junior high school
I learned that being too nice makes people take advantage of you. If I always gave in, they would always use me.
I started to distance myself from people who could hurt or bully me. I decided to just observe.
"Don't trust anyone. Don't rely on others," I told myself.
Year 6 – 15 years old, last year of junior high school
I graduated, but no one came for me. I watched my classmates' parents hug them, smiling for the camera. I sat alone on a bench, lowering my head so no one could see my sad face. I bit my lip, trying to hold back my tears and keep smiling.
"Mom, I graduated from junior high school... Are you proud?" I whispered. "Sorry I'm not one of the top students this year. But I'm not scrubbing floors or washing dishes anymore. I'm a cook now."
Year 7 – 16 years old, first year of senior high school
It was one of my best years. I had two close friends who were always there. We laughed, joked, and talked from morning to afternoon. They were good friends with great humor, and even though we sometimes cursed at each other, it was fun. They gave me strength to go to school every day and slowly filled the sadness inside me.
"Mom, I have friends now," I said with a small smile.
Year 8 – 17 years old, last year of senior high school
I graduated with a smile. For the first time, I was truly happy. All my friends graduated with me.
"Mom, I graduated," I said, smiling beside my friends.
Half a year later, still 17 and in my first year of college, all my friends had taken different courses. I was alone again, just like in senior high. Money was running out, and I realized I needed to earn more. So I stopped after my first semester and started working as hard as I could. Because keeping this place is more important for me.
This routine keep going I don't have a TV or cellphone because they are too expensive for me. Instead, I have a collection of books that I've found outside or bought second-hand. My books are like my treasures, full of stories about history, mythology, fairy tales, and even some novels. I also have books about the human body, plants, and animals, which I also like.
As I look around my small home, I see my old ceiling fan providing a gentle breeze in the room. The refrigerator is old and always seems to have some sort of problem. The furnitures is worn out.
Taking a moment to reflect, I realize that I've turned 17 this year. Time really seems to fly by quickly and how things change and mature as we grow older.
But just when I was starting to save some money.
Suddenly, I lost my job at the restaurant where I worked as a cook. The owner went bankrupt after having a serious health problem. things got tough. With nowhere else to turn, I started looking for work in construction, a seller and butcher in meat shop, weaver or a farmer. These jobs don't come every day, just a few times a month, and they don't pay much. Because of this, I couldn't afford to pay my rent. I tried to save money by not eating much, skipping showers, and avoiding using unnecessary electricity. But it wasn't enough, and I had to leave my apartment. I'm scared of losing the place filled with memories of my family. I begged the landlord to let me stay.
But the new landlord ignored me and walked away. I used a payphone to call my relatives for help, but they didn't answer. I tried visiting my relatives and neighbors homes, but they didn't open their doors.
I had no home and had to wander around without a stable place to stay. I felt the cold and hunger as I carried my stuff.
Sitting on the street corner, an elder woman noticed me.
The elderly woman spoke to me, saying, "Why are you still here, child? It's dark outside. You should go home."
I replied, "I'm sorry, but my mother taught me to never speak to strangers, especially at night."
She glanced at the belongings scattered on the pavement and then offered, "If you need a place to stay, come with me."
I hesitated, "My mother told me not to follow strangers."
"We are not related, you don't even know me," I added.
The elder said, "Sometimes we help others without needing a reason."
Feeling like I had no other option, I decided to follow her. She led me to an old wooden house at the edge of the city, which seemed abandoned.
I asked the old lady if the house she pointed to was the one we were looking for, and she said it was.
Curious, I asked her, "Is it safe to stay here?"
Deciding to enter with caution, we both stepped inside the house. The wooden floor creaked under our feet, a sign of its old age.
I questioned the darkness inside, wondering why there was no electricity. The old woman explained that the house had been deserted and left without power.
Suddenly, we heard the sound of children playing. Surprised. I asked the old woman if she had grandchildren inside "are they your grandchildren inside?"
She explained, "No, those are not my grandchildren. They are homeless children, like yourself."
One of the kids came up to me and asked, "Who are you? Are you homeless too?"
I nodded and replied, "Yes, I am."
As time pass I started getting used to this new way of life, forming a bond with the mischievous kids and even with an elderly woman who I now call grandmother. It's strange to think that even my own grandparents never attempted to visit me when times were tough.
Out of nowhere, one of the kids hurled a profanity at me, to which I responded by lightly flicking his forehead. I questioned the young man on his disrespectful behavior, trying to understand where it came from.
I realized that his behavior was likely due to not having parents around to guide him and teach him right from wrong. Despite the slight pain from the flick, he seemed genuinely surprised by my reaction.
"Do you even realize what you just said to me?" I asked, ready to scold him again if necessary.
"Nathaniel, stop that already," Grandma scolded sternly.
"Yes, Grandma," I replied sheepishly.
"Grandma, you're too kind to him," I added, noticing how lenient she was with the mischievous kids.
"Ha-ha, forgot about him. Nothing will change if you scold him over and over again, he will just become hard-headed," Grandma chuckled.
"By the way, Nathaniel, can I ask you something?" Grandma's tone changed, and I knew she was serious.
"What is it, Grandma?" I asked, curious about what she wanted to discuss.
"Do you want to go back to school?" Grandma's words took me by surprise, and I hesitated before answering.
I nodded silently, not sure if I could afford it with my new part-time job.
"So you really want to?" Grandma pressed on, her voice filled with concern.
"I want to, but I don't have any money right now, and I'm new to my part-time job," I admitted, feeling a pang of disappointment.
"Don't worry about that. I still have money saved up," Grandma reassured me, her eyes twinkling with determination.
With Grandma's help, I enrolled in a new school, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and a different environment. At first, I was nervous, but as the days passed, I started to feel more comfortable and settled into the new routine.