Why was I so scared to go home that day? The answer seems so obvious now, but the memory is faint and my judgment has always been flawed. The childhood I had with is no doubt blanketed in fear, so the question is has fear twisted even the core of my memories? The slightest remnant of her meant that days were gray, that my clothes were dirty and that I was small. True or Not, one thing is clear. It is that I am, was and could possibly well be still afraid of my mother.
Kids are usually afraid. No new shoes, no batman suitcase or new stack of pencils can ever really prepare you. And the first week of school always bring these unknowns into the picture. For the first time I had male teachers with neckties, deep booming voices and the inability to hug after a job well done. I had new classmates. Some looked foreign, others were intimidating, and a couple looked like they never showered and that they didn't really care much about it. But the fear would disappear like every other time by the fact that I could do things so well. Our first assignment was to draw a superhero, and my obsession with Cyclops came in handy. I wanted my drawing pinned to the wall and without a shadow of a doubt, it ended up staying there.
The only problem I had at that time was the bathroom rule. "Do not go to the bathroom during class time". I was never really ever in control of my bladder. And I thought 'isn't a class about an hour long?'. At home and at kindergarten, I usually just went when I needed to. Nobody seemed to question the rule, but outside of my calm demeanor, I was in nervous anticipation of the next time I needed to go.
My mom told me one morning that she was going to pick me up after school, but somehow I rode the bus home. Now two scenarios are in my mind right now, of why i would do such a thing. The first is that I remember being unsure of whether she was going to pick me up or not, and that I was in the bus already contemplating this, but being unsure, I opted for taking the bus home as a safer option. The second scenario, which seemingly just hit me right now as I am writing this entry was that I was already inside the bus and that I suddenly remembered her message. I completely remembered it. But I didn't leave the bus. I think I was shy. I think I was unsure. I'm not really confident in the memory. But again, I took the bus home and left my mom to go to school and pick up nothing but a reason to scold me. And what also happened after, when mom got home, is as blurry to me as most of my memories, but I remember being scared. I felt that it was my fault and I remember that, as much as possible, I should never cross her again.
Something happened in school. There was a math class that I had downstairs, but unfortunately, I needed to pee in the middle of it. Now I remember the peeing rule and I also don't quite remember seeing any student ever going to the bathroom without being reminded of said rule and that they should just "hold it in". So tried and I did for about 20 minutes before I started leaking. But I was 'smart' then. Paper after paper when under my trousers to absorb any moisture and keep me 'safe'. I was breaking another rule of not holding it in and I had to hide this criminal act from my seatmate who was a mere two feet away paying attention to what was on the board and not to the mess on his left. I don't remember much after, but I remember the door and running through it before the next class comes and the poor student who inherits my seat finds out something stinks.
My first days in school couldn't have gotten any worse. But I was in school again and inside my school bus waiting for the other students to go home. I saw the ants marching along the branch outside. I remember the heat on the pavement. Then I suddenly became scared. "Did mom tell me that she was going to pick me up?". I really didn't know. And the uncertainty ate me for a while. On the other hand I didn't really want to leave the bus. I didn't want the driver to ask why I was leaving and I didn't want to give an unsure answer. As we were waiting for the riders, most of the students got hungry and left the bus to buy food. I soon jolted. I grabbed my batman suitcase and ran out towards the back of the benches. I hid so that the bus driver couldn't find me and leave after the waiting period.
Hours passed and it became dark. A couple of students asked me why I was still there, and I told 'em that my mom was picking me up. I walked around school to avoid anymore questions and started crying behind the bushes outlining the altar. I don't know why I cried then, but my memory is giving me these bits and pieces which i am trying to logically put back together. Another boy saw me so I headed back before he could register my face. I think he did know who I was, but I took solace in the fact that we had about 11 years to forget this small crying incident. I headed back to the bleachers and waited to be picked up. Dinner had passed and I noticed that I was the only person there. The lights where now turned on and the spotlight was on me. Now I didn't want anyone to see me and once again ask me why I was still waiting, so again I went to the bushes and cried. I asked the air " where is my mama? where is my mama? where is my mama?" until I ran out of breath and felt uncomfortable sitting there. I stood up and walked a bit in the dark till Mr. Velasquez saw me. He was with a bunch of other teachers and asked 'what happened?'.
I remember a jeep. I remember a tricycle. I remember not wanting to look Mr. Velasquez in the eye on the ride home. But remember the fear of going home. I remember wanting my mom to feel bad, but I remember being scared more then anything. I didn't know what was going to happen.
We finally got home. The big door swung open and there my parents were. I looked up, but now I can't seem to remember their faces. But I said sorry and ran for my bedroom. I pretended to sleep, but noticed that i was still hungry. I peeped out the door, saw them still talking to my teacher and grabbed some leftovers from the kitchen. i wasn't a heavy eater, so leftovers were quite normal portions for me. I then pretended to sleep until it happened.
The sad thing was that i never said thank you to Mr. Velasquez. But I pray that he is happy somewhere and bringing another lost kid home.
