The one year living with my mom provided me with some of the best memories of my childhood, though none of them involved her. It was difficult to, since we were like boats passing at sea. School was from 8AM to 230PM, and my mom worked (or at least was gone from the house) from 11AM until 2AM. We never held a conversation any further than me telling her what I needed. Signatures for field trips, replacing school supplies, and money for food. The money part was a bit of a scheme I devised, since I was being fed by the school and my friends' parents most of the time. I volunteered everyday serving breakfast at the cafeteria, which guaranteed a morning meal, along with extra peanut butter and jelly graham cracker sandwiches for an evening snack. The free lunch program took care of my noontime meal.
Is five dollars enough for dinner son?
I don't know, mom. A pizza and a soda is about five dollars. Sometimes I'm still hungry.
She never objected to my allowance increase requests. At one point, she was leaving me fifteen dollars a day. It's absurd now that I think about how much money I was getting, but I guess that was her way of making up for the time we didn't spend together. After school everyday, I would find my allowance/bribe left for me on the dresser, which I would spend on things I really needed, like cookies, video games, and trips to the arcade. All of my time after school was spent at either Nick's or Vincent's house. They were my closest and only friends, and they both lived across the street from a Mountain Mike's Pizza and a 7-11. Countless hours and quarters were spent on the arcades there, though we were always sure to save enough money for a hot dog or garlic cheese bread, my personal favorite.
On the weekends, we would collect our savings and head out to Golfland, a short two mile bike ride. We weren't interested in the miniature golfing or water slides; it was all about the arcades, pizza and icees. I still remember the large double wooden doors with its giant handles, the clacking sounds of air hockey right when you walked in, the smell of pizza, and for me, the feeling of complete freedom. Unlike other kids, I was never told when I had to leave. My money determined that. When Nick and Vincent had things to do with their families, I had no reservations about going solo. When the money ran out, I simply biked to the mall across the street and freeloaded. There were video game demos at Montgomery Wards in the electronics section, and Pinocchio was often playing on the big screen televisions. I would literally sit there and watch, as families walked by doing their shopping. I often wonder now if anyone noticed a ten year old kid loitering by himself around the mall.
By that age, I had learned how to keep good company with myself. I was an expert loner, since my two close friends couldn't always hang out with me. They had normal families after all, with their summer trips, church, and all those other things I didn't know enough about to be envious of. As for my mother and I, we still did our weekly Sunday routine; Lunch at Tung Kee on Story Road, the one near the Children's Shelter by Sleepy Hollow. After lunch, we'd both go our separate ways. There were times when I experienced a great sense of loneliness, which would prompt me to call her. It was usually on a weekday, when my friends couldn't go out due to homework or other plans. My calls were usually met with the same answer.
I wish I could, but I have to work.
I could usually expect to find a slight bonus left on the dresser the next day. That was our relationship by the end of the fourth grade.
Coming up: I spend Christmas with a black family, and I start stealing from Toys R Us to amass a huge Lego collection
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