Challenges

Characters: 

Mom, Mary Vaughn
Son, John Vaughn, 11 ½ years old in 1929

1929 

“John, get down stairs for breakfast, you're gonna be late for school.”

“Be down in a minute!” I wiped sleep away from my eyes and sluggishly went down stairs.

“Do you want wheaties with milk?” My mom asked.

“No! I have wheaties everyday! Why can’t we have some decent food every once and a while” I said, pushing my breakfast away.

How could I have been so picky?

“Do you want to go to school on an empty stomach?” My mom scolded me. 

How could I be so mean to my mom?

“I don’t want to go to school, why can’t I just stay home?” I said clenching my fists.

How could I not want to go to school?

My mom, having enough of my temper, muttered, “You are lucky to have food, an education, and a roof over your head. You know that our family came here to give us a better life than the one we would have had in Europe!” 

I ran up to my room stomping on every step as I went, my stomach rumbling. 

When I heard the door close and was sure that my mom had left, I went downstairs to have a snack, only to find the snack cabinet locked and a note from my mother.

“If you don't eat the food I give you; you won’t eat! Love Mom :)”

I ripped up the note into tiny pieces and gritted my teeth. 

I wish I ate the wheaties, I thought.

When my mom got home today she had that look on her face.

I knew something bad had happened. 

That night, we ate a silent dinner.

1934, Present Day

   “Hbrrrrrrrrrrrr,” shivers run down my spine. I’ve been waiting in this endless line for hours. Every step I can smell the aroma from the soup kitchen. The free food is not great, but it is food. 

Ever since Black Thursday we’ve been just scraping by. We were kicked out of our house because we couldn’t afford to pay the mortgage so in just a month we were pushed out onto the streets. We moved to NYC hoping to find ” opportunity” but there aren’t any jobs.  For a bit we lived in the Hoovervilles; Sometimes we went days without a single crumb. Now things are looking better, we got a new president, an apartment, and food (most of the time). We work where we can and eat what we can eat. 

I can’t remember the last time I had a full stomach. 

After what seems to be an endless wait, I get my vegetable soup and bread.

My mouth is watering.

I rush to our small apartment in Brooklyn making sure to stay away from large crowds and potholes.

Not going to make that mistake again.

When I opened the door to our 1 bedroom apartment, my mom was already home. 

`

She asks, “Was the line too long?”

“No! The line flew by” I responded, “How was your day?”

“Great! I even got some potatoes and other vegetables for dinner!” She says with a big smile, giving the room an aroma that makes all your worries go away.

She didn’t tell me how she gets all this food but I know; She goes through the trash of other people who don’t have to worry about food, and not having to worry about a roof over their rich heads. 

I don’t tell her that I can’t feel my fingers and that I can’t see very well out of my left eye.

Our apartment is, as I told mom, “All that it needs to be.” It’s small, we have a “compact” kitchen, and a bedroom. A couch and mattress we found at the Hooverville, in Manhattan.

Just thinking of Hoovervilles sends chills down my spine.

My mom insists that I sleep on the mattress saying, “You are the most important thing in the world.”

She sleeps on the couch. I know it’s not comfortable, in fact I thought it was kind of Spartan. Yet she never complains even though her back aches, and her eyes yearn to close after another sleepless night; she always manages to keep that smile of hers.

Nowadays, we always eat our dinner in silence, it’s not that we are resentful of each other, but you learn that you never know when your next meal will be. So, you have to savor every bit of the hard bread, slowly take a spoonful of soup, letting the warm “deliciousness” envelope every taste bud. 

We don’t leave a crumb behind.

Middle of the Night

“BANG!” 

“BANG!”

“BANG!”

The noise wakes me up.

I slowly get out of bed, my head hurting, barely seeing a thing. I walk into our makeship kitchen/living room. 

The door lay flat on the floor, my mom is lying motionless on the kitchen tiles.

Red Everywhere. Blood!

I rush to my mom's side.

Praying “LIVE, YOU HAVE TO LIVE.”

There is someone Screaming somewhere.

It seems like there's an endless amount of blood on the floor.

The neighbors are awake,

They come rushing in their pajamas. 

One of our neighbors, who I forgot their name, is a doctor. He is wearing green.

He yells at our other neighbor Ms. Green who is wearing yellow to put pressure on the wound.

It is a stab wound.

That person who was screaming was me.

The doctor leaves my apartment, no our apartment.

He comes back 37 seconds later with a First Aid Kit.

My hands cannot stop shaking.

My heart feels like it’s going to implode.

Two police officers arrive.

One of them yells at me but I do not hear.

I hear only.

“BANG!” 

“BANG!”

“BANG!”

“BANG!” 

“BANG!”

“BANG!”

Several Days Later

The cops say it was a desperate person looking for food, they just happened to go to your apartment. 

My mom… Barely made it. The doctor said if it was 2 inches to the right, she would certainly be dead. The doctor said that she would be bed ridden for at least a month. Right now I'm just praying it doesn’t get infected. 

I gave her the mattress; she needs it more than me.

What if I was quicker?

What if I made her sleep on the mattress?

What if?

I push the thought out of my head.

Today I need to get a job.

First, I will apply to a construction company. 

“Good Afternoon I am interested in a construction job,” I say. 

An old man that looks like he fought in the Civil War says “You seem a bit young to work in a construction site; but not a lot of people want to work for us anymore after the incident last week.” 

He continues, “It’s not like it's our fault, the poor fellow didn’t tell us he couldn’t see. But if you want the job, it 's yours.”

I flinched at the mention that the person who died also had an eyesight impairment. 

“I will get back to you.” I reply knowing that I will not.

I exit the building and continue to walk. 

As I’m walking down a rather nice looking street, a well-dressed man asks me if I am in  need of a job. 

I respond, “No” thinking that the rich man is just messing with me but he continues,

“If you do, my household could use a young strong man like yourself,” and he gives me his address.  As quickly as our conversation started it has ended. 

Before I return home, I look through the trash to find any food: I find tomatoes, potatoes, and stale bread.

I rush back home to my mother, some part of me worrying. 

What if something happened again?

When I arrive home, there is no smile to welcome me. The warm aroma of our apartment is not there; It seems as if the world has lost its color.

My mother is sleeping on the mattress, I leave some bread by her side.

I don’t eat dinner.

“BANG!”

“BANG!”

“BANG!”

I wake up in the middle of the night on the couch thinking something is amiss.

I get up quickly to check if mom’s alright.

She is perfectly safe. 

I decided that I will take up the wealthy man’s offer, in the morning.

Morning comes and I rush over to the address the man provided hoping I’m not too late. 

When I arrive there is a butler waiting. He asks if I’m here for a gardening job.

I replied, “Yes.”

He tells me that I will be given a uniform, that I would be paid weekly, and work starts now.

He gives me an agenda of what I am to do:

 First, I will go and buy new flowers that will replace the “old” flowers in the household that look perfectly fine to me and return the money I did not use.

When I ask what I am to do with the flowers that we are replacing he responds,

“Throw them away of course!”

I go to the market and buy the cheapest flowers thinking why would someone need expensive flowers if they will throw them away in several days. 

I arrive back at the manor and replace the “old” flowers with the new ones. 

I keep some of the unwanted flowers to bring home, not wanting to waste perfectly fine flowers. 

I return the money to the butler and he looks shocked at how much money I brought back but he says nothing. 

The doorbell rings. A lady wearing a fur coat comes inside the house she hollers, 

“Whose idea was it to put these ghastly flowers in my house!” 

The butler eyes me and takes the ladies coat. 

Seeing me, the lady gives me some sort of vase.

As I’m walking to put this down in an ideal location the butler sticks his leg out and trips me.

The vase shatters on the floor.

The lady is outraged and yells at me to get out and don't come back. 

Just like that, I don’t have a job anymore and we will be evicted from the apartment in a week. 

I walk slowly back home. 

When I arrive back home my mother is awake but very pale. I show her the flowers I took home and she smiles.

I don’t tell her that I don’t have a home and that we will be back on the streets in a week. I just smile back. 

I don’t sleep.

The next day I go searching for jobs, but I can’t find any.

I don’t sleep.

The next 2 days go the same. Still unemployed, hungry, and soon to be homeless. 

Today I decided to do something I never thought I would have to do: beg my father for money. He works at city hall as a lobbyist. I haven’t seen him in 7 years ever since he and my mom separated. He was an ‘abusive’ father to say the least. 

I go while it is still dark out; I need to talk to him before he goes into city hall. 

He comes along with the sun a few hours later. 

I approached him.

As soon as his eyes meet mine, I know he recognizes me. 

He pulls me to the side and yells “What are you doing here!”

I reply, “Mom got hurt and we are going to be evicted. I need money”

“I don’t have the money,” he says and walks away.

I ran up in front of him, “Please!” 

“You know what? I have the money, but I don’t care about you, or your stupid mother!” he says looking at me like I was a monster when really he is the monster.

“Please,” I beg thinking of my mother’s ashen face.

“If you don’t get away from me in 5 seconds, your mother won’t be the only one injured!” He says clenching his fists. 

I walk away with my head down.

When I get home my mom is laying on the floor with food around. She must have gone out. I try to wake her but she lays still.

I bang on our neighbor’s door, the one who is a doctor he rushes to my apartment like he did that fateful night. He feels her neck for a pulse but there is none.

I can’t breathe. 

My world is collapsing.

It’s all my fault.

It should have been me.

I could of been quicker.

I could have...

I could have...

This feels unreal.

Why did it have to happen to us! 

I lay by her side until the cops came for her body.

They try to console me but all I can feel is pain.

ALL THERE IS IN THIS WORLD IS PAIN!

I feel like a volcano erupting!

All of my repressed emotions are boiling over.

I cry.

I cry for hours.

I cry for what seems like years.

I cry so much that I don’t think that there are tears left but yet more come.

When the sun wakes up I am crying.

When the Sun goes to sleep I am crying. My eyes are swollen, and it burns to catch sunlight. Finally, there are no tears left to cry, yet the pain stays; the guilt stays.

I try to stand up but my legs wobble beneath me.

I can’t suppress the guilt any longer.

The thoughts overwhelm me.

I can’t handle the pressure.

It’s too much!

Life is too much!

I am volcano, about to erupt

I go outside; not sure what I am going to do, not sure what I am capable of doing

“Son, are you okay,” a distant voice asks.

An old man walks up to me.

I do not respond; 

He says,  “Come with me.”

I don’t know if it’s the warmth of his voice or that I haven’t eaten or slept in the past 2 days, but I follow.

He leads me to a penny restaurant. Apparently it’s his; he gives me the most delicious vegetable soup of my life. 

He lets me sleep there for the night.

Why is this man showing me kindness when he doesn't even know me?

When I wake up in the morning, he greets me with an understanding smile. 

He said that I could stay here for as long as I want. He offered me a job to work there.

Part of me doesn't believe him, why would he help someone like me?

For a moment I forget about the pain, the guilt.

I mourn my mom’s death but I don’t let sadness take over me. 

I think I will accept his job offer, hopefully things will get better.