Say Those Three Little Words

One of the only people Oli had in his life, besides his mother, was his 90 year old grandmother. She’d always send him little trinkets or letters letting him know that she’s still alive and still thinking of him, and every time he gets mail from her, his heart soars and a smile never fails to appear on his face.

He and his grandmother have a very close relationship. She helped raise him from a toddler to eight years old when his mom was battling through depression and alcohol abuse. A kind and compassionate woman, making sure she gave more than she received, she became a staple in Oli’s emotional development. He was more empathetic and understanding because of her, and strove to follow in her footsteps.

He half ran down the stairs, trying to contain his excitement a little as to not embarrass himself in front of Josh, and approached the letter sitting on the kitchen counter, next to a folded wad of paper bills. Ripping open the envelope, he pulled out the paper with his grandmother’s elegant handwriting and began to read.

Oliver -

It quite saddens me that your family moved out to the States, but I know your mother had to take up that job opportunity, so I am not going to dwell on it. I hope you are adjusting well, and just know that I already miss you very much.

I am afraid I have some bad news… your father came to see me the other day. He said he stopped by your house to talk to your mother, and when he saw the FOR SALE sign in your front yard, he became livid. His face was still red as can be after he traveled the 45 minutes to the nursing home!

He demanded that I give him your address, even threatened to kill me if I did not. He never really liked me, as you know, so I fully believe he is capable of taking my life. I refused. I would rather die then put you two through all that trouble (but do not worry about it, dear. This home has maximum security).

Your father is a stubborn fool though, and he will not ever stop until he gets what he wants — whether it would be a phone to call, a direct address, or even just the city you are in. I’m sure he will find you two eventually.

I am just warning you, Oliver. Keep your eyes peeled whenever you go out, and the same goes for your mother. I want you to protect her. You are a grown man; you are probably at a point in your life where you could put up more than a fight than her if it was necessary.

I do not know what he wants to talk to her about, nor do I know if he will get physical. Judging by his past, he probably will.

On a lighter note, a good friend of mine’s daughter brought in chocolate chip cookies the other day. They are phenomenal. I’m going to ask her to make another batch and send it to you guys.

Much love, Grandma xox.

A sigh escaped from Oli’s lips. He felt dejected, and a bit paranoid about the future. Josh, who had taken a seat at the kitchen table and was watching him curiously as he read, cocked his head and frowned. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Oli murmured, putting the letter back in its envelope. “Just… news about my father.”

His dad had left when he was 5 years old, just after his mom started to get worse with her addiction. The day he left was the only memory he had of that year, one that was permanently burned into his brain and left emotional scars on his heart.

He remembered sitting at home on the couch with his grandmother, watching reruns of cartoons, when his dad came home from work. His mother was sitting in the arm chair adjacent to the couch, obviously hammered although she tried to play off her behavior from not getting enough sleep.

Unfortunately, his dad saw through her facade and, finally at his breaking point, unleashed all of his thoughts in a fit of rage. “You have a kid you’re supposed to take care of, yet you’re sitting here drunk off your ass while your mother is doing all the work. Tell me, how is that fair? Do you know what type of example you’re setting for Oli? Do you even care that this is going to influence our child? He’s only five years old, for chrissakes. He needs his mother right now, and you’re not being that for him.”

“Shut up, Ian.” She had slurred, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure you do, Carol.” He sneered, slowly coming towards her as he spoke. “You’re never sober enough to make any decisions regarding him. All you care about is your stupid fucking alcohol and watching soap operas. You’re lucky that your mother is kind enough to watch over him, or else he might not be alive right now.”

Oli’s mom had stood up halfway through his speech, and now the two parents were standing face to face, both scowling at each other. His mother drunkenly flipped her hair over her shoulder and squinted her eyes.

“I take care of my son” was the only thing she could manage to say.

“Carol, just look at you!” His father boomed, his hands clenched at his sides. The sudden increase in volume made Oli cover his ears, the tears already starting to sting his eyes. “You can’t even take care of yourself, let alone someone else! I’ve been here long enough during the day to know that you do absolutely nothing. You wake up, booze, do stupid shit, watch TV, then booze some more before you collapse.

“I’m tired of it! I’m tired of coming home from working my ass off just to see that nothing gets down around here! If you don’t promise to get help, I’m done. I’m out of here, and I’m taking Oli with me. This has—”

“You’re not taking my son!” His mom shouted. She pressed her fingers against her temples and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were wet. “He’s one of the only good things in my life and—”

“Yep, ‘cause you’re totally showing us that.” His dad replied, the vein in his neck throbbing from how angry he was becoming. “You wouldn’t really care if I took him, in fact, I doubt you’d even notice. It’s just alcohol and TV for you. Pathetic.”

His mom burst into tears, drunkenly hitting his father multiple times in the chest. “Stop it. Stop it! STOP IT. STOP IT!!”

She repeated the two little words, as if that alone could change his dad’s mind. Her voice raised in volume and was soon equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. His grandmother had also covered her ears, watching the two with contempt. Oli was crying now, and slightly shaking, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene.

Not even when his father punched his mother in the face and shoved her back in the chair, shouting that she was a stupid bitch.

“Hey, now.” His grandmother said, the only time she’ll speak the entire night. “That was not necessary, Ian, and you know it.”

“She wouldn’t shut up.” His dad growled, shrugging. He looked over at the woman he was married to and sneered. His mother’s hand was slightly cupping her broken nose, blood staining the palm of her hand, with an incredulous look on her face. The tears were flowing silently, and her eyes widened when her brain registered what just happened.

He took off his ring, threw it at her, and stormed off in the direction of their bedroom. Ten minutes later, he came out with all his belongings packed, mumbling about how he’ll send the divorce papers, and left.

Oli didn’t realize he was crying in real life until Josh wrapped his arms around him. He hated thinking about that day. That day was when his entire life basically fell apart. His mom never left her room for at least a month, and late at night Oli could hear her crying softly when she thinks he’s asleep. The broken nose was a constant reminder of how his father showed his true colors, and it made Oli’s stomach churn just thinking about it.

After he sent the divorce papers, he also sent a letter explaining how he really felt. He never wanted a kid. Once his mother got pregnant, he begged for her to get an abortion.

When she refused, he did what he thought he had to do with a kid on the way — marry her. They got married a month before Oli was born. The marriage was rocky from the start and probably the main cause of his mother’s addiction.

In the letter, he talked about the plenty of times he almost killed his son. He was never good with kids, he said, so whenever Oli got into things he wasn’t supposed to or didn’t follow orders, he wanted to get his shotgun and unload it into the kid’s back.

He almost did once, he said, when Oli was 3 years old. He loaded the shot gun and pressed it against the toddler’s head, only intercepted by his grandmother walking in at that very moment. After that day is when his grandmother took up most of the parental duties.

He finished up the letter by saying he never loved Oli, and when he offered to take him away, it was only to strip his mom the rest of her happiness. He was going to dump his only child (Oli used to have a brother, but he died of unknown causes as an infant) into an orphanage as soon as he got the chance.

Oli hugged Josh back and, being the shorter of the two, laid his head on the teenager’s shoulder. He didn’t know why he was crying so much, but the tears wouldn’t stop and his heart kept clenching and unclenching, sending shock waves of pain and despair throughout his entire body. He was shaking, clutching on to Josh for deal life.

He felt pathetic, and he almost wished his father did kill him.

Josh was rubbing his back, whispering things like “everything is going to be okay,” but Oli couldn’t make himself believe it. Everything won’t be okay. He’ll be forever plagued by that memory of abandonment, of knowing his father never loved him, and seeing the emotional pain his mother went through. It’ll become too much for him, and he’ll break down. Again.

Or worse, his father would find them again and finish the job he tried to do 19 years ago.

When Oli had calmed down to the point that the tears were silently falling down his cheeks, Josh did something that surprised them both.

He began to sing.