Nate offered her every week, however.
I knew Nate loved his mom, but any respect or admiration he had for her disappeared years ago. I could totally understand that, I would be sad and disappointed, too and I never blamed him for feeling the way he did. Occasionally Nate worried; he’d told me, that without him to bear the brunt of his dad’s anger, his fear was that his mom might become the human punching bag he had been serving as for years. Thankfully, up until now, that hadn’t happened, I hoped it never did, but no matter what, that shouldn’t stop him from going off to better his life.
Sad, upset, angry; weren’t powerful enough words for the emotions I felt over his revelation that he was leaving. I was crushed Nate he was going even though I understood his motivation. I got it, I really did. I may have only been barely fourteen years old, but I knew what drove Nate to his decision, and I wanted the best for him. I honestly did, so if that meant supporting him in this, I would. It might just kill me slowly on the inside, but I’d do it for him.
Apparently, the catalyst for the timing of this move was a friend that he went to high school with. Braydon, moved to Dallas, finding work at a high end, restoration and rebuild garage.
Braydon called Nate telling him they were looking for someone with skills like his. He would be guaranteed a job as soon as he hit town, and it was excellent money for a guy that didn’t have formal training, or years of experience places like that usually require. Nate wasn’t stupid. He knew taking that job was his way out, and that opportunities like this one didn’t come along all the time, if ever for people in his situation.
The D-day came just less than six weeks later, and it signalled the time for Nate to leave. He packed up his beat-up, Dodge pickup truck with a few mementos and personal items he had, and two duffle bags of clothes. That was all he was taking with him. His dad refused to let him take things like his bed or bedroom furniture, not that he would have enough space to take it all, but the offer would have been nice. The only reason he could take his truck, was because Nate had bought and paid for it with his own money, and his dad had no claim to it.
Nate made sure to come past my house last, after saying a teary goodbye to his Mom, on her part, not Nate’s, and a cursory “See you,” to his dad first. My parents, who loved Nate like he was their own son, hugged him and gave him a thick envelope, telling him to open it when he was on the road. I already knew what was in it; I had contributed the little I could. My mom and dad had given him $2000 to help get him started on his journey. I added the $300 I’d made from babysitting on the weekends because I needed to feel like I was supporting his decision too.
Verity gave Nate a hug that lasted an inappropriate amount of time, trying to kiss him on the mouth when he attempted to push her away. Thankfully she missed, Nate turned his head just in time, thank God. After prying her off him, he asked, more like told, me to walk him to his truck, taking my hand, pulling me along with him. At first I didn’t want to see him off. I wanted to stay inside where I wouldn’t have to say goodbye, buried under my pillow and blankets. That way, I wouldn’t have to stand on the sidewalk and watch him drive away. I might just be able to pretend it wasn’t happening if I hid away in my room. It wasn’t realistic, but leave a teenage girl her fantasies. I relented, following on my own steam in the end. I always relented when it came to Nate.
Standing beside his truck, Nate hugged me tighter than he ever had before, literally squeezing the breath out of me. Inhaling deeply, he took a step back and held my small hands tightly in his bigger ones saying,
“I’m going to miss you so much, Ronnie. I’ll come back to visit, as often as I can.” I was openly crying now, and I’m sure I looked
I knew Nate loved his mom, but any respect or admiration he had for her disappeared years ago. I could totally understand that, I would be sad and disappointed, too and I never blamed him for feeling the way he did. Occasionally Nate worried; he’d told me, that without him to bear the brunt of his dad’s anger, his fear was that his mom might become the human punching bag he had been serving as for years. Thankfully, up until now, that hadn’t happened, I hoped it never did, but no matter what, that shouldn’t stop him from going off to better his life.
Sad, upset, angry; weren’t powerful enough words for the emotions I felt over his revelation that he was leaving. I was crushed Nate he was going even though I understood his motivation. I got it, I really did. I may have only been barely fourteen years old, but I knew what drove Nate to his decision, and I wanted the best for him. I honestly did, so if that meant supporting him in this, I would. It might just kill me slowly on the inside, but I’d do it for him.
Apparently, the catalyst for the timing of this move was a friend that he went to high school with. Braydon, moved to Dallas, finding work at a high end, restoration and rebuild garage.
Braydon called Nate telling him they were looking for someone with skills like his. He would be guaranteed a job as soon as he hit town, and it was excellent money for a guy that didn’t have formal training, or years of experience places like that usually require. Nate wasn’t stupid. He knew taking that job was his way out, and that opportunities like this one didn’t come along all the time, if ever for people in his situation.
The D-day came just less than six weeks later, and it signalled the time for Nate to leave. He packed up his beat-up, Dodge pickup truck with a few mementos and personal items he had, and two duffle bags of clothes. That was all he was taking with him. His dad refused to let him take things like his bed or bedroom furniture, not that he would have enough space to take it all, but the offer would have been nice. The only reason he could take his truck, was because Nate had bought and paid for it with his own money, and his dad had no claim to it.
Nate made sure to come past my house last, after saying a teary goodbye to his Mom, on her part, not Nate’s, and a cursory “See you,” to his dad first. My parents, who loved Nate like he was their own son, hugged him and gave him a thick envelope, telling him to open it when he was on the road. I already knew what was in it; I had contributed the little I could. My mom and dad had given him $2000 to help get him started on his journey. I added the $300 I’d made from babysitting on the weekends because I needed to feel like I was supporting his decision too.
Verity gave Nate a hug that lasted an inappropriate amount of time, trying to kiss him on the mouth when he attempted to push her away. Thankfully she missed, Nate turned his head just in time, thank God. After prying her off him, he asked, more like told, me to walk him to his truck, taking my hand, pulling me along with him. At first I didn’t want to see him off. I wanted to stay inside where I wouldn’t have to say goodbye, buried under my pillow and blankets. That way, I wouldn’t have to stand on the sidewalk and watch him drive away. I might just be able to pretend it wasn’t happening if I hid away in my room. It wasn’t realistic, but leave a teenage girl her fantasies. I relented, following on my own steam in the end. I always relented when it came to Nate.
Standing beside his truck, Nate hugged me tighter than he ever had before, literally squeezing the breath out of me. Inhaling deeply, he took a step back and held my small hands tightly in his bigger ones saying,
“I’m going to miss you so much, Ronnie. I’ll come back to visit, as often as I can.” I was openly crying now, and I’m sure I looked
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