My Little Angel (#WattPride)

The Boys

"No, no, no, no, no. Asher, we can't do this. Why would you buy dogs? That was the one thing I asked you not to do. I let you go to your group thing, I said you weren't grounded, and you still disobeyed my one wish!" my stepmom fumed. She ran her hands through her short hair and down over her face.

"Mom... it's okay. It didn't cost anything. They're free adoptions," I said slowly. She didn't seem too comforted.

"Sure the adoptions were free, but do you know how much time, effort and money goes into taking care of a dog? And here you are buying two!" She turned and walked into the kitchen with me following behind. I could tell something else was bothering her. She didn't usually act so frayed and anxious over small things like this. I could tell her anxiety was acting up, and so I went to the cabinet and got out the tea bags.

"Mom, sit down, please. I need you to breathe and calm down." Now, I know some people with anxiety say that telling them to calm down is extremely annoying, but it is the exact opposite for my stepmother and I. We both have agreed that when we hear someone tell us to calm down, it helps us focus. Someone just being there for us is amazing. But now that it was only us two, we had to be there for each other. We were all we had. "Now, tell me what you're thinking. Vent to me, sistah," I said.

My stepmother sighed. "Asher, do you know how much work goes into animals? And you're at school or work all day, and I can barely manage to make sure I am okay, nonetheless puppies. These animals are a step that we can't handle right now, especially financially. We are walking a very thin string when it comes to bills, food, supplies for the house, fees, among other things. We can't afford puppies when keeping ourselves afloat is ruining us as it is."

I turned the stovetop off and pulled the tea bags out of the boiling tea, pouring my stepmom a cup before putting the pan in the fridge to let the rest of the tea cool down for me. I can't stand hot tea. "Mom, I know I made a rash decision without thinking, but I can't take them back now. And besides, I can get another job for the weekends, and my days off. I don't mind," I said. I went to hand her the cup, but froze when I saw tears slowly slide down her cheeks. Setting the cup down, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around as much of her as I could, rubbing her back.

"That's the thing," Mom stammered out, breath ragged as she tried to control her sobs, "the responsibilities of the house shouldn't go to you. I am the parent. I should be the one who takes care of you. I should be the one who works and brings in money. I should be the responsible one. Not you. Do you know how terrible it feels to see you come home every night tired from school, then have to go back out there for work, just so we can scrape by. Every time I look at you, I can see what all of this does to you. You try and smile and say it's okay, but it's not Asher. It's not okay. You think I don't notice the bags under your eyes, the exhaustion naps you take, the anxiety attacks you have, or the fake smiles you put on, but I do. And I can't do anything about it but watch, and it's killing me. I just want you to be happy..."

I held my stepmother with a gentle smile on my face. She really cared.

"Mom, do you remember when you were exhausted from taking care of me and Hannah? You would wake up every morning to us poking your face, or Hannah poking her smelly poop filled diaper in your face while I was laughing in the background. You remember that? Do you remember how you would lay there and pretend to be asleep, wait for us to come closer, and then snatch us up and tickle us until we lay heaving on the bed? That was your way of making sure we stayed still while you made us breakfast. You also made us lunch, dinner, behave, mind our manners, not kill each other, and didn't let us kill ourselves by jumping off of the T.V. stand or sliding around with baby wipes on our feet because we wanted to "skate" on the hardwood kitchen floor. This very floor we are standing on now. Do you remember that? Because I do. I remember a hardworking woman who bent over backwards to make sure her kids had what they needed to survive; who would put their needs before her own, exhausted herself, and still took the time out of her day to read us a book almost every night, even when her anxiety and depression became almost unbearable. You were amazing to us growing up, and if Hannah were here, I know she would wholeheartedly agree. It's my turn to give back. You helped me when I was too young and dumb to understand what was good for me, now let me help you while you are sick. Okay? If someone were to give me a choice between having all the free-time in the world, but not having you here, or this working almost everyday and having you here to help me through it, I would choose you so fast the person offering would think I was rude. You have done an amazing job raising your kids, let them help you out too."