The Sacrifices We Make

“You have to always be there for your siblings, no matter what.” Jack and his mom are huddled tightly next to each other for warmth. His mother’s eyes are tearstained, filled with a sadness that makes Jack think he was looking at a stranger. Before, when he had lived in a house, when he had a dad, his mother would always be happy, a big smile on her face. A smile that wasn’t strained nor faked.

Now, all Jack sees is the soulless expression on his mother's face, much like the one she wore now. Just smile like before, Jack wants to beg to his mother, but he knows he cannot because that isn't how he is supposed to act, not when his mother was so sad.

Jack was eight, turning nine in two weeks, but he had a wiseness past that age, the coldest of reality can do that to a person; a jobless mom; no roof above his head; the neverending hospital bills, mocking the family with each letter.

He knows what he has to do; he has to step up in his role as his mother's child. “I promise.” Jack vows. Years later, this would be the only promise he ever kept, perhaps made more important because it was the only promise he ever made to his mom. Or maybe because it is the only promise he made that matters.

That promise changed his life forever. From a simple-headed, maybe even selfish, boy to a boy with a man’s responsibilities. The weight of expectations is not light, nor should it be the burden of a child who never got to experience childhood...

I think back to the moment eight year old Jack swears to always be there for his siblings no matter what. I can vividly recall my desperation, my loneliness, and my sadness. But, more than anything, I remember that all I had wanted was to do something that would make my mom happy. I would do anything she asked of me, and more, just to get a hint of the mom I knew her to be, the mom she was when dad was alive, but it was never enough. Even when I took care of my siblings, day after day, taking over her role as a parent, she would never look at me with an expression that wasn’t one of pain or grief.

Just smile, I want to shout every time she gives me another hopeless look. But, in my mind, I know that she can never be the person she once was, too much has happened. If only my heart would just stop hoping. Because it hurts too much.

Too damn much...

“Jack, are you listening to me?” The voice of someone, oddly familiar, brings me out of my trance. Mister Fernan, the science teacher. Fifty-ish. He’s one of those people who look exactly the same as his personality suggests. Soft features; soft personality. Kind eyes; kind person.

I can lie, but for some reason that’s never been one of the options when it comes to answering to him, the teacher who's more guileless than anything else, perhaps it’s because I feel a bit bad for him. The kids that always make fun of him. His innocence that’s so much more different than my tainted one. “No, I was not, can you repeat that?”

He smiles. “Of course.” He says, the words genuine, just like every other word that exits his mouth. “I was just saying that you’re one of the smartest people in my class, yet you seem to lack a form of motivation for learning that I often see from people who show the same form of intelligence as you. As one of the teachers in this school that doesn’t want students to just flourish, I would also like them to enjoy what they’re learning. Tell me, is there something you think is lacking in my teaching, or do you literally have no interest in science?”

The truth is much more complicated than that; it’s that I don’t allow myself to be interested, because there is no future in the academics field for me, so nothing good will come out of hoping. “Even if I were smart enough to get into a university, there’s not enough money. I don’t like to do something that has no point” Not enough money? That would be an understatement, I don’t even have money to buy myself lunch most days. University? Ha! Money is everything that matters, those that say it isn’t are the people who’ve had it their whole lives. I’ve sacrificed everything (my time, my friends, and the childish dreams of a future) just to make sure there is food on the table.

“You can try out for scholarships. I’m sure if you studied enough, it could be a possibility.” Mister Fernan says kindly. I doubt he knows what it’s like to work towards something that he doesn’t want to do.

But I do. I’ve known it my whole life. “I have three younger siblings to look after.” I tell him stiffly.

For the first time since we began our discussion, Mister Fernan seems to be at a loss for words. His mouth goes slack, for just a second, but it’s enough to give me a bit of satisfaction. Finally, the man who always knows what to say has nothing to say. “Don’t you have parents or guardians to do that?”

“Of course.” I reply. Of course I do. My mom, always working to pay back the bank for our dead father’s loan, and most likely depressed. Most of the time, she isn’t even in my life. I’ve basically had to look after myself and my siblings by myself. “They just don’t do a good job.” I purposely refuse to give him the pronoun. A low move on my part.

“Oh.” He blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice. (I’ve made him speechless again, I feel pretty good). “Is there something that I can do then?”

“No.” I tell him bluntly. “Can I go now?”

I’ve never seen a teacher stunned speechless like the way Mister Fernan is right now, it’s a nice moment for me. But also a sad moment, because the reason he is speechless is due to my unfortunate circumstance. “Ah, um, yes, of course, you have your next class, right? Well, you better go then.”

I don’t bother telling him that the bell rang a couple of minutes ago for the end of school. I just say “Bye, Mister Fernan.”

“Goodbye, Jack.”

Half an hour later, I'm in front of Jayden's elementary school, waiting for his classes to end.

Elementary school. Yes, I remember those days. I was pretty miserable back then. I guess it’s a good thing I never got to attend grade six and seven. It wouldn’t be an understatement to say those were the worst years of my life. However cute little kids can be, there are still ones that know how to cut you up. Yes, and cut me up they did.

I hope grade five for Jayden isn’t as bad as it was for me. Actually I hope he has a great time, I hope he’s happy.

When the bell rings, the door to the school open and tiny beings swarm out of the building. I spot Jayden as one of the kids that were the first to exit the school. As soon as he sees me, a huge grin makes its way to his face, and he starts running towards me.

“How was school today?” I ask my youngest brother who’s currently bouncing up and down while holding my hand, a huge grin on his face. There are many things I would give just to keep that smile on his face, and there are many things I have already given to keep that smile on his face.

He gives me a toothy grin. “Good, although I couldn’t sleep last night, so I’m a bit tired.” Just by looking at him, you couldn’t tell, at least to a person who hasn’t known him his entire life. But, I know the signs, as I have known him my entire life, his uneven breathing and eyes that blink half a second more than necessary. He is really tired.

“Some nights I can’t sleep either.” Actually, the truth is that most nights I don’t sleep. There is too much to think about that I don’t allow my mind a moment’s rest. Some nights I think about my inability to properly take care of my siblings, the way they should be taken care of. Other nights, I am plagued by nightmares.

Jayden starts skipping, he’s so short that all I have to do is quicken my pace a bit to catch up. He hums a song, so out of tune that it’s unrecognizable, but stops to talk to me. “Miss Sun says adults often don’t get to sleep because reality isn’t often kind, is that why you can’t sleep?”

Did my younger brother just call me, a sixteen year old, an adult? Yeah, he just did. It doesn’t help that I do everything an adult does, and more. I’m a bit amused. “Yeah, adults” Like me, I’m tempted to add. “are often stressed because there is a lot for them to consider.” I pick him up, deciding it would be easier than matching his small steps.

“WOO-HOO!” He shouts, happy. Piggy-backs are as popular right now as it was when he was five years old, I guess.

I smile. My happiness is when my siblings are happy. “Let’s go home, I’ll cook pasta today.” Pasta. Just noodles and potato sauce, not healthy, but it’s the best I can do.

“Okay.” My younger brother says. He’s used to pasta dinners and rice bean lunches.

When we arrive home, a downstairs apartment with two small bedrooms, Jemma and Isabel is already home. The two of them are doing homework, copying each other’s answers. “We’re home.” I say. One glare from me, the twins return to doing their own homework, no longer copying each other’s text word for word. If they got caught by the teacher, they would call our mom, and the end result would be catastrophic at the best.

As soon as I drop Jayden down, he goes over to the twins’ table, looking at their homework like it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. He does this every day, and every day it takes two times longer for the pair to finish their homework because they’ll have to answer Jayden’s neverending questions. But, in a way, I think it also makes the twins think, and, in a way, they’re smarter for it. I’m glad. Sometimes the best tutor is a dumb one, I guess.

“Done.” Jemma shouts, putting her bag away.

At the same time, I had just finished placing everyone’s food on the dinner table, its only use being during dinner. “Clean up.” I call to my three younger siblings. They don’t listen, they just sit on a chair and start golfing down the pasta. I don’t blame them, I’m hungry too.

When the food is finished, the four of us have a conversation that goes into midnight. We have no television and no phones, so our only entertainment is each other. The jokes give us our laughs. And the laughs give me my reason for being alive, for pushing myself each day for another day, for sacrificing so much, because it’s all worth it.

This is what I’m protecting, I think, my family, happiness, my siblings. Because they are everything good, and I won’t give them up, no matter what.

That night I dream of the words of nine year old Jack; I promise. The only promise I kept. The only promise I made to my mom. And it’s the only one that matters.

Twenty Years Later...

Twenty years have passed since the day I talked to Mister Fernan, the science teacher, and twenty-seven years have passed since the day I made my promise to my mom. Not much has changed, I am no poorer nor richer than when I was sixteen, just more lonely. I am still young, but I feel ancient. My siblings have left, all richer and happier than I am, yet, here I am, at the same place as the person I was when I was a teenager.

Still working minimum wage jobs just trying to get by, except now that I don’t have people to look after nor am I an underage person, so I spend most of my earnings on getting myself as drunk, in my lonely retreat, as possible. It doesn’t ease the loneliness that I feel, but to also feel something other than just the loneliness makes it all worth it. Once I had even showed up to work smelling of liquor and so drunk that I couldn’t even properly walk. Needless to say, I was fired.

Everything that had mattered in my life is now gone, and because I had sacrificed so much of the other aspects of my life for what had mattered at that time, I have nothing now. Just a house that isn’t a home and an empty heart.

Yes, sometimes my siblings will visit me and sometimes they will call me, but I’m no longer the one that’s at the center of their lives. And it hurts. But, at the same time, I’m also happy for them, proud of them to have made it into the world the way I never did.

You finally did it. I want to tell them those words every time we are in contact, but I don’t because it would make me seem like a weirdo. You finally did it! I can imagine myself shouting those words each time we’re on the phone, each time we greet each other. Of course, being the people that they are, they’ll obviously give me a nice, fake smile while their spouses look at me with bewilderment, but, in their minds, they’ll be thinking of the nearest exit. Ha! There’s definitely no chance of me ever saying those words to them again, not after the time I said it to them during their university graduation, and they had told me how childish the words were. I never told them those words again, but, in my mind, I am constantly thinking those words.

It is those words that help me get through my loneliness, because, for a moment, I will no longer be the drunk in a shithole, but a man that’s proud of the people that he raised. Nothing could make me happier than that.

I had done what I had sworn to do, to always be there for my siblings no matter what, and the end result is better than anything a king can buy with his gold.

Sadder, yes, but also better. Because, I would not have known pride otherwise. And, now that I do know it, I will treasure it with everything I've got. That itself is better than anything else I have known in my life, and it's worth cherishing.