Red
Red. I always liked the color red. I had a red shirt once. It was a bright shade of red with palm tress on it. I got it on vacation with my family before my father lost his job. After that, we didn’t take vacations. We moved into the slums where my father took day jobs that didn’t pay much but just enough to get us by. We once had a large house with four bedrooms and three bathrooms. I remember taking long baths in our bathtub. Mom would come in to check on me and playfully gasp that I had been in the bath way too long. She would say unless I wanted to turn into a prune, I better get out. Now we live in a small two bedroom apartment. It only has one bathroom. The shower head shoots water our really strong in one spot. I have to move around or it starts to rub that one spot raw. The water doesn’t stay hot most of the time either. It starts off hot but then, just as I get nice and comfortable, it turns cold. I share a bedroom with my two older brothers. They share bunk beds; I have my own bed. They always make fun of me, calling me a baby because I cry when they hit me. They say real boys don’t cry and that I must be some kind of girl.
“You’re a girl. I know it.” taunted John.
“No, I’m not.” I said, letting out a pitiful cry.
“Yes, you are. Only girls cry so that makes you a girl.”
They had just gotten out of bed to go to school. I went to a different school because I was younger. So they would always hit me while I was still in bed. If they had to wake up, I had to as well. hated when they would do that. I always told myself that next time I would expect it coming and wake up before them. Every time though, they got me and I would wake up to one of them punching me.
Mom came in, scowling at them. “Leave your brother alone. One day he’s going to be bigger than both of you.”
She was picking up the clothes that were lying on the floor and on the desk. She always came in the morning. She washe dour laundry first. so our clothes would be done before she began washing other people’s clothes. People take their client’s serious. One time, my brothers and I accidently spilled a drink on one of her client’s shirts. My mother yelled at us to get out of the apartment and find something useful to do. When her client came that day to get her clothes, she yelled at my mom and refused to pay her for cleaning any of the clothes. I always tried to be more careful around the client’s clothes after that day.
“Estragon, get out of bed. We have a lot to do today before you go to school.” said my mother. I slowly got out of bed and stood outside of the bathroom. I hoped that John wouldn’t take forever because I really had to go. Sometimes she would purposefully take a long time just because he knew I was standing outside the door.
After my brothers had left that morning, I saw with mom in the kitchen. She made me toast with extra jam on it and poured me a big glass of milk. It was strawberry jam, my favorite. After breakfast, I took a shower with what hot water there was left after my brothers used it all. I got dressed and presented myself to Mom for approval. She would playfully check behind my ears and under my fingernails to make sure that I cleaned myself. We went to the market that morning. I liked going to the market. We looked at all the fresh fruits and vegetables.
“One day we are going to have money again; we will buy as many vegetables and fruits as we want. But for now though, we’ll just get some carrots and potatoes to put in the stew.” she whispered in my ear.
“Can we get apples when we’re rich again, Mom?”
“Of course we can.” she said. She didn’t smile like that much anymore. “We’ll get you lots and lots of apples.”
“What would you get if you had the money?” I asked my mom. She liked to fantasize about what we would do when we had money again. She tried to pretend like it was just a game but I think she really wanted to have money again.
“I would get our old house back.” She wasn’t smiling anymore; she looked sort of sad. I gave her a hug because that always made her feel better. She looked at me and squeezed me back. I pretended not to notice that she wiped a tear from her cheek.
“We should get you off to school before your late my little son.” She held my hand as we crossed the street. My school wasn’t too far away. She walked me to school everyday. When we got to the school, she gave me a big hug. She gave me the usual speech about not talking to strangers. She said I was to come home directly after school. I wasn’t to make any stops along the way.