Chapter three. Old games.

I loved playing games with Rodger. That was awesome. When I was in second grade he and I would play games all the time. One of the games I remember well was something called swing high kick ball. I had a swing in my front yard for reasons I never knew, and when ever him and I both felt up to it would go outside, and play. I would swing, and as I was doing so he would toss the ball at me, and with my feet I would try and kick the ball. I didn't want to kick it too high because then the huge sized ball would fly over the other person’s house and be lost. I loved playing the game. I didn't ever want to stop. Rodger also had this huge thing about recording whatever I would be doing. If I were playing a video game shooting ducks he would be videotaping me doing it. Years later I would stare with complete awe at myself sitting in a chair slightly to the right of the screen pointing a gun at it as ducks flew by. I was a pretty good shot. As each duck flew by a flash would come up on the screen and then ducks would fall to the ground in funny animations. I don’t remember doing it however. The only memory I had of ever doing that was watching tapes later one day while home alone.

For reasons unknown my grandfather would often go to the doctor and come back the same day. My grandmother told him

“Rodger you have to stop drinking. The doctor knows best. Better than you do.” I was shocked. Drinking what? He never would let me drink what he drank most of the time even when I tried sneaking one. When he caught me he angrily shouted at me that his drinks were for grown ups only. They must have been, because I never saw any kids drinking from those silver cans. After a few days of pondering over it I forgot about it, but I always wondered what my grandmother meant when she said “stop drinking.”

In second grade I was a hot shot. I loved to sweet talk all the female adults, and I had an awesome memory. That's because my grandfather would make me get getting praise. I was always good in school because I had a sharp memory. The reason for this was because instead of doing homework the night before I would do it that morning. Rodger would make me get up and do it two ours before school, although it only took me like thirty minutes to do my spelling words and math problems. When my grandmother found out, which wasn’t long, she had screamed at him so loudly that I was sharply woken up by her voice one morning.

“That’s not healthy!”

“Look at how well he's doing in school. His grades are A’s now… how can you tell me that am not healthy. The brain has a tolerance for short term memory more than long term. You remember things that happened recently more clear.”

“I still don’t like it. He’s got to be exhausted.”

“He’s not complaining.” He answered with an air of smugness in his deep slightly scratchy voice.

“Rodger he never complains about anything. Stop it right now. I don’t like him getting up at six every school day. What if he gets stressed?”

“Remember, he doesn't complain about anything. You got to let him grow up. This is ridiculous! You’re still dressing him at nine years old!”

“I can't help it…” she stopped then started again like nothing ever happened.

“johns my baby!” she stopped for some time then quickly said “Robert is my baby…” no one moved… they just stood there leaving me to wonder what they were doing in my room. I listened even harder but no sound came from them any more. I went to my full length mirror in my room and looked at myself. This was nothing new, my grandmother and grandfather fighting like this. It would happen so often I didn't even think of it as fighting anymore. Standing in the mirror I looked at my shirt. A picture of a star wars X wing fighter was on the black surface. I looked at it studying it until my head hurt. I then felt the back of my neck to see what was itching me there. It was the tag. Whenever my grandmother would dress me this itchy thing would always be in the back. I took the shirt off, and admired how skinny my body looked. I loved it! I would stand there and flex all the while. I then wanted to try putting the shirt on by myself. I put it over my head and didn't look where I was putting my head and before I knew it my head was in a much smaller hole. I had put it in the arm hole. Moving around I accidently kicked the mirror and my grandmother came running like I had just set my room on fire.

“Oh my poor baby!” she squealed as I screamed inside of the shirt.

“Go away! I don’t want you in here!” she kept helping me with the shirt but I didn't want her to.

“Leave!” I screamed in the shirt but the shirt was pressed up against my mouth so all she could hear was a muffled scream. I know I was being a brat but I didn't care. I wanted to put on my own damn shirt.

“Go away! Go away! Go away!” I kept thinking in my own head but she didn't. After she was done I just stood there crying.

“Leave me alone!” I screamed at her and she drew back hurt in her voice.

“Okay… okay… I'll leave.” She did leave, and I just stood in my room crying to myself. I did however beat up my pillow.

“Why doesn't she let me do things?” I sobbed into my pillow. “I hate her! I want to put on my own shirt! I want to I want to I want to!” I stayed in my room for the rest of the night. I was mad at my grandmother and I didn't mind showing it. I gave her the silent treatment the rest of the morning as well. When she was putting on my clothes I just went limp. I didn't want to do anything that would make her life easier.

“Robert you have to turn so I can put on your socks.” Stone faced I did as she told me to d. I didn't want to be a brat too much because if I did that then they may take away stuff from me. It never happened but kid’s ob TV were always talking about it. I was nice to my grandfather even though he was mad at me for getting mad like I did. They didn't understand. None of them did. I wished wishbone were here… then I at least could have someone to talk to about all of it. I loved wishbone. I would watch him all the time. He was such a cute dog, plus he would go on all sorts of adventures. I loved that and wished I had someone like that in my life. Even though I was surrounded by family… I never felt so alone.

On the way to school Rodger told me

“Because of the way you acted I'm not taking you to pizza hut this afternoon.” I pouted in my seat now opting to give him the silent treatment as well. I couldn’t and soon turned to him.

“Can you do something?” I asked sincerely.

“Yeah. What is it you want to have me do?”

“Tell grandma I'm sorry.” he looked at me then… I'm sure he was thinking “he's not a bad kid after all. We did okay.” But he said

“You’re still going to be punished.”

“Okay.” I said. I didn't mind. I knew what I did was wrong and I accepted it. Why shouldn’t I?

After a hectic day at school where I took two tests and didn't eat lunch, I returned home with Rodger to find something I knew was not going to be there. In my room I had the old huge yellow Daytona tape players stacked with audio books on tape. When I ran into my room it was not on the bed. I knew they were going to take something away from me. I just didn't know what. When noticed that my tapes were gone I turned to my grandfather grinning a wide toothy grin. Grandmother called it my devils grin.

“If you wanted to punish me you would have removed the games also.”

“Don’t push your luck.” He sternly told me. I shut up instantly and went to play a detective game with my self in the mirror. I pretended my room was a hideout, and the house was some kind of secret base, and I had to escape. I did that all night long until I went to sleep.

At ten years old I was very nosy. I would ask all kinds of rude or inappropriate questions that would either get me yelled at, spanked, or just sternly talked to. One of these questions was

“Do girls have a floppy between their legs like I do?” to which my grandfather would get so mad his voice shook.

“Don’t ever speak of that again!”

“Fine. I won’t.” I also had a smart mouth at ten years old, but I never caused damage to anyone or anything. That was the only and main issue with me was my mouth, and I was a damn quick learner. The proof would be the video games I had beaten at least nine times in my room beside my full sized pin ball machine. This one time I got the highest score on it and it popped sounding like a gun, letting me know I won. I couldn't stop bragging about it, even after my grandmother and grandfather calmed down after the boom that came from my room. One day however, my quick wit nearly had my grandparents put in jail.

It was a Saturday, and my grandfather had gone to the store to get food. My grandmother who sounded like she wanted to drop on the floor right then and there came in and told me.

“I'm going to do some errands okay? I will be right back when I can. You want to come? Your grandpa won’t be here.”

“no.” I said beating up sub zero with my own video game character.

“Okay. Love you”

“Uh-huh.” I mumbled. After they both left I called Rodgers name. When they didn't answer I went looking for them. When my eye landed on an empty driveway from my screened in front porch I started to cry.

“Stop it poop head.” My brain told my sobbing self.

“Why?” I asked myself. “Their gone and I'm scared.

“So make defenses… like in star wars.” I didn't know how to do that, and I started to panic even more.

“You’re a do-do head. Stop… idiot!” I did stop.

“Okay… so who helps people? Get someone here who can help you” I remembered seeing a show on TV about cops guarding someone's house.

“I can call the cops!” I shouted in my head.

“Yeah… but you don’t know the number.” He did have a point.

“I can just use the operator.” I told my other voice in my head, and blew him a raspberry.

“dork.” It retorted but I just ignored him. I started to cry uncontrollably again as I picked up the phone and pressed zero.

“Hello… how may I help you?”

“I'm home alone, and I'm scared, and I want my grandma and grandpa here, but their not… so can you send some people to guard me. I'm scared.”

“Okay son… how old are you?”
“I'm ten years old.” I answered smugly like I was the smartest ten year old on the planet because I could sound so grown up… even crying.

“Ah. Okay. What's your address?” I told her, but I didn't know the zip code.

“Oh and miss…”

“Yes?”

“My eye’s stupid. It's messed up. Thought you may want to know.”

“Okay. A guy will be out there shortly.” My hand went numb. I didn't even feel myself holding the phone.

“Okay. Thanks. Hurry!”

“He is.” She hastily assured me. After she hung up, I just sat there and cried. What I didn't realize however… was my grandmother did in fact tell me that Rodger wasn’t going to be here. I didn't hear her… and there was something else I didn't know as well… both of them were on their way home…

“You did the right thing, but I told you he wasn’t going to be here.” My grandmother sternly told me after the policeman, a nice guy with crew cut hair, drank some tea after declining the beer my grandfather had offered him.

“Well you two scared me.” I pouted. “So I shouldn’t get in trouble.” The cop laughed at this and said

“You have quite the Einstein on your hands.” He ruffled my hair. That's about all I remember of the conversation. I don’t even remember if I got punished or not. I did get a good talking to though, and I listened real hard as Rodger explained why him and my grandmother would be in trouble. I shocked him even more by saying

“I understand.” And then when he quizzed me I passed. We never saw that cop again by the way.

“He's not any dummy.” Rodger had shouted at my grandmother that night.

“obviously.” My grandmother said sarcastically. Our ten year old son nearly put us in jail.

“So should we move him up a grade?”

“No.” I was in my room angry that they were talking so loudly.

“I want to go to sleep!” I yelled. The voices died down then started again.

“He needs social skills… not a higher education… to be honest he's just rude sometimes.”

“Not all the time.”

“I know that Rodger but…” she trailed off, and they both fell silent.

“Why do you look like that?” my grandfather asked with deep concern in his voice. I heard him pop a beer can open. “You’re damn pale.”

“Shut up. I'm not. My head hurts though; I'm going to go to bed.”

“Love you”

“Hey… tomorrow do you want me to take him to school?” my grandfather paused.

“Yeah… sure… you sure you look okay? You don’t fucking look okay to me.”

“I… am… fine…” she said and went off to bed.

After my grandmother got me up the next day I noticed something was a little off. She lurched with each step, and she was shaking so bad I thought she was cold. She even called me john, a few times. I watched her blurred outline like some hawk. When we at last took a step out on the porch I sensed something wrong behind me. I turned, and saw my grandmother’s round body and white hair just collapse on the floor face down. I had to move out of the way so she wouldn't land on me.

“Help!” I cried, and thank god Rodger came out there, and helped her into a chair. I didn’t like the way she looked with her wide eyes and shaking body. You just stood there crying.

“Rodger… I… can't walk.” My grandmother said sounding scared which got me crying even harder.

“Yes you can.” My grandfather said sounding annoyed. “Let’s go.”

“No!” she said crying now. “Stop it stop it stops it! I can't! Please… no.” I didn't like this at all.

“Call a doctor!” I yelled at Rodger. “Now! Call him now!”

“Calm down.” My grandmother said. “I'm okay baby. Look. I'm okay.”

“Stop lying!” I yelled even louder “oh yeah? Walk.” She didn't… I stepped back watching the whole scene, I began to feel sick. I ran into the bathroom and threw up. In the back of my mind I knew what she had. “Her brain exploded.” My mind kept telling me as I kept throwing up and crying at the same time. When I was all done… I lay down on the bathroom floor and cried my lungs out. My throat hurt from screaming, and my shirt looked like it was dipped in the ocean. I then became so angry I kicked the floor.

“Stop playing games!” I sobbed and hiccupped as I pounded the floor with my fists.

“This isn’t funny you sick old woman. Stop it! STOP IT!” I screamed, but she didn't… and I didn't stop crying. In my room as I heard sirens pull away, and felt my grandfather take me in his strong shaking arms, I knew what had happened.

“Her brain exploded” I told myself again.

“Shut up idiot.” I told my own head. I didn't want to think, talk, and breathe. Walk, or even do anything. My grandmother was hurt. I looked up at my grandfather’s face, the tears never halting even for a second.

“Will she die?” as his shaking hands due to tremors, he had them since he was little, held me, and rocked me, his voice floated in my ear.

“No. she won’t die.” Crying myself to sleep in his arms, feeling at peace and frightened all at the same time… I knew one thing for sure, and nothing he said could make me change my mind… I thought he was lying.

“You’re a bad liar.” I thought as sleep took over my whole body taking me away from god’s sick games.