Micah Jennings

1.30.05 Sunday [distraught]

Last night's conversation with Reginald wasn't much. He advised me to discuss the account situation with her, so today I followed that advice. I was very abrupt with mom this time.

"Have you been accessing my bank account?"
“OUR bank account, Micah,” she said.
“You gave it to me. I’ve put in much more than I ever took out. Why have you gone in there?”
“I need it right now.”
“What for?”
“It’s keeping me alive.”
“Mom, it’s a prison. You’re not paying to be here…the public is.” I immediately regretted what I said as she gasped in shock.
“How DARE you talk to me like that, Micah. I am your MOTHER. I took care of you!”
“I know, mom. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. But you aren’t giving me answers…You’re being so…mysterious.”
“How?”
“Where’s the money going?”
“I told you, I need it right now.”
“What do you need it for?” I repeated. She didn’t speak, but her sunken face retreating from the question brought a sickening question into my head.

“Are you…getting drugs…with the money, mom?” She turned away and began scratching at her matted hair.
“Mom, you need to tell me the truth. I want to know if that money—the money that I spent the last year collecting—is being wasted on a drug habit.”
“It’s not a WASTE! It’s how I live, Micah. It—it keeps my mind sharp, alert!” She stammered.
“I can’t believe you, mom.”
“Well how would YOU know? You’ve never tried it, you’ve never known it. You—you’re just a common thief.”
“You are too, aren’t you?”
She shrugged.
“You did it after all. You were trying to support a drug habit, weren’t you? That was the truth, all along. All this time you lied. Lied to the court, lied to Judge Memphis…you’ve been lying to me, mom, haven’t you?”
“I SAID you wouldn’t understand!”
“But now I do, and I see how stupid I was to ever have faith in you.”
“Don’t try to turn your back on me. I’m your mother!”
“No. Not any more. My mother had integrity—she always did the right thing.” I paused for a moment and recalled the happier times of my childhood. “One day when I was in first grade I remember a classmate playing with a matchbox car. It was green and shiny and I wanted it so bad, so when he wasn’t looking I put it in my pocket. He thought he lost it! When I came home my mom found out, and you know what she said? She said it wasn’t right to take what didn’t belong to me. Even though it was a small thing, she told me to give it back, and when I did, guess what? She bought me one just like it—do you remember that? My mother—the one I remember—she loved me. But you…you’re nothing like her.”
I stood up and motioned to the guard that I was finished, but as I left the room she wailed after me.
“My baby! Don’t leave! I just need a little more! A little more money and it’ll be enough! My baby! My baby! Please!”

Tears blurred my vision as I met the unforgiving chill of wintry sweeping across the parking lot. I cried uncontrollably for several minutes in my car, just sitting there sobbing, wondering what to do next. I was too distraught to go to Reginald’s today. I came straight home and took a long nap.

-M.J.

posted by Mr. Linty @ 1:16 AM