Micah Jennings

1.26.05 Wednesday [visiting mom again]

Mom looked worse than ever today. Long, jagged crevices encircle her face, which still features those puffy, blue bags under her eyes. I almost suspect she’s being physically abused in there. It was hard to look her in the eyes today, due not only to her appearance but the things I’d read in the files as well.

But I held that topic off long enough in our conversation, asking her how things were going and if the food had gotten any better—dumb questions that always come out. Reginald’s words reverberated in my mind: Tell her about the money… I ignored his nagging voice for all of ten minutes before finally bursting out,

“Mom, I gotta tell you something.”
“What?” Her wrinkled features arced slightly with curiosity.
“It’s about the money…specifically, how I’ve been raising it.”
“The lawyer money?”
“Yes,” I said, pausing and looking for the right words. “Do you remember how it was for me, that day they put you away?”
“You cried. A lot. Didn’t the guard…do something…”
“He grabbed me and cupped my mouth with his hand to silence me. It was very traumatizing,” I recalled painfully. “Do you remember what I promised you that day?”
”Yes. You said, ‘Mamma, I’ll save you.'”
“That’s right. I meant it.”
"I know.”
“A year ago, I began living up to that promise,” I began to explain. “I got a list of all the jurors for your trial and tracked them down.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I found them. I found them and stole from them—but I had to do it, you see? It was just taking back what we were owed. They put you away and I promised I’d get you out! I promised, remember? I said I’d save you! I couldn’t break that promise, mom! I had to do what I did!”

She stared at me with eyes drenched in exhaustion for some time before speaking.
“And?”
“And I’m sorry! I know you must hate me for it, so I’m sorry! It’s not the way you would have done it, but I just didn’t see another way…I’m so, so sorry!” I was crying.
“Calm down, Micah. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not, I should’ve been smarter, more clever. But I just couldn’t think of anything…”
“You did what you could, Micah. We’ll get the money.”
“What?” I asked, puzzled, wiping my face on my sleeve.
“You’re not a failure, son. We have most of what we need. Just a few thousand more and this will all be over and I can come home.”
“Wait…you’re not upset about the money?”
“We’re only missing a little…”
”I’m not talking about the fact that we don’t have all of it! I’m talking about the way I got what we DO have.”
”I don’t understand what—“
“MOM. I stole it. I STOLE.”
“You did what had to be done. You just told me that. What did you expect me to say?”
“I expected you to be furious about it!”
“No…why?”
“Because that’s who you are…aren’t you? You always taught me about right and wrong, manners, honesty, respect…”
“Forget all that Micah. There’s no right and wrong in this world. It’s about doing what you can, when you can. Do what you’ve been doing. I’m proud of y—“
“NO! How can you say that?! That’s not what I remember of you! You’re supposed to say the right things! What’s wrong with you?”
“Life, son…Life is wrong with me,” she said dully. “Now get the rest of that cash and get me out of hell.” With that she got up from the visiting table and motioned to the guard, who escorted her back to her cell, leaving me crushed and alone.

I guess I wanted to be wrong today, and ended up being right. I just don’t understand anything anymore. Maybe mom’s right. Maybe life’s just wrong for us.

-M.J.

posted by Mr. Linty @ 11:42 PM