Into the Fire

Sandra walked down to Joey’s bedroom shortly after he awakened on a Sunday afternoon in late May.
“Hey, Mom, what’s up?” he asked, rolling over in his bed to face her.
She sat down on the edge of his bed. “I hardly ever see you, son.”
“So what else is new?” he smiled.
“I know,” she responded quietly.
He propped himself up on his elbow. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Now don’t jump all over me, Joseph, but I’m concerned about you . . . some, I guess.”
“You are? How come?”
“Look, Joey, I feel responsible for you quitting school.” She held up her hand as she heard him heave a big sigh. “Hear me out, and then you can have your turn,” she instructed firmly. “Things were falling apart between your father and I before you were born, but they just seemed to get worse as you were growing up. I can’t place all the blame on him, but I can say I honestly didn’t understand how to make things better—or I would have. Anyway, now you’re working and in a band, and you’re never home, and it’s like we hardly ever talk about anything important, and I feel like I’ve lost you, son.” At that final admission the tears began to fall.
Once again those dormant feelings of compassion began to rise to the surface of Joey’s consciousness. He felt the tears coming, but he wouldn’t allow them this time. Instead, he said, “Mom, I don’t know why I hated school, but I hated it from the very first day of it, so, tell me, how could you have changed that? I’m sorry I’m not more like Janey or Sam—they liked school and were good at it. I never once liked it—not even a little bit—even when I had a good teacher. I guess I’m just different, Mom.”
“Please don’t think I want you to be someone you’re not, Joey. It’s important that you find out who you are and not try to be someone else. Believe me, that’s not what I mean. I just hope when you discover who you are, you’ll let me know. Do you remember how we used to talk together when you were little? You used to ask me some of the most profound questions—I couldn’t even answer some of them. You were such a little thinker. That much hasn’t changed,” she said wistfully.
Joey smiled at the memories. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Remember Trey?”
“Oh yes,” his mother laughed. “You two could get in some kind of trouble now and then.”
“Yeah. He was the best friend I ever had,” Joey said as if he just realized it for the first time.
“I thought you two kind of faded away from each other.”
“Yeah. Trey liked the school scene. But I hated having to say good bye to him when he moved away to live with his Dad.”
“Trey was a pretty good kid.” She sniffled a bit. “Joey, I just want you to know I love you. Please take care not to do anything that’ll hurt you in the long run, okay?”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
She reached over and kissed his forehead and then went back upstairs and got ready for work.
Joey wondered fleetingly if he ever would find out who he was supposed to be.

Taken from The Famous One (2005; written by Nicole Petrino-Salter)