Her Baby Boy

 

The cops told her that he died very quickly from the head wounds so he felt no pain at all. They probably said that to ease her mind because she was hysterical. She did not comprehend anything that they said. It was not working. Theresa only felt more pain and it increased more and more every time she thought about it. It had been two days since she heard the news that her only child, her baby boy, was dead. She was all alone in the empty, white apartment. It looked dismal now with some family pictures hanging in the main room and some brown faded furniture surrounding the small TV, the kitchen with the rust colored pots still on the stove, and a crack in the ceiling over the main door. The crack seem to grow bigger and bigger each time. The memories of him were fading and coldness now inhabited the space where he should have been. She maneuvered her wheelchair aroundthe house and made her way to his room. It was just as he left it with his navy bedspread crumpled in the middle of the bed and the dirty sock with brown dirt stains on the foot board. Theresa had spent the last couple of days holed up in the room remembering her Johnny and how unfair it was that she had to go on living at her old age when he had so many goals ahead of him. It was not right that her son had to die

Theresa was paraplegic from the waist down because of an illness that had crippled her spine when she was a baby. When she met Johnny's father, she was twenty five years old and confined to her wheelchair. Butshe was a beautiful woman. Long brown hair, blue eyes, light complexion and a smile from ear to ear. She was also quite a talker. She could talk an ear off the best listener. That's what attracted Johnny's father to her. The wheelchair was nothing important. After they were married in a small ceremony she wanted to have children. When she was pregnant with Johnny, she prayed to God to have a healthy child. She always prayed and felt he was listening to her, trying to help. When he was born, she nearly fainted from joy when the doctor showed her Johnny. He was red in the face from crying and he looked a little cranky but she did not care. He was her child.

Growing up was tough on Johnny because his father had left Theresa for another woman and she had to raise him by herself. She did not know why he left her and later on she would come to realize that she would never know. She could not work so her sister supported them until they were financially stable. Johnny was an inquisitive child with too much energy. He was quite a lot to handle. He was skinny kid with black curly hair, a mocha complexion and small almond shaped brown eyes which continually grew wider every time he spoke. He collected toys and comics to play with. His mom was his sidekick sometimes and other times she was his person in distress needing his strength and power to help her. His hero was Superman and he flew about the apartment with a bed sheet tucked into the backside of his shirt and a Burger King crown on his head. The crown was to let everyone know who was the “Protector of the House.” One time when he was saving the world from villains she began to experience a very bad migraine headache. She cried out from the pain.

“Mommy what's wrong?”

“Nothing baby. I just have a little pain but nothing to worry about.”

“Don't worry mommy. I am a super hero so nothing will hurt you anymore.”

“Okay super hero. I feel safe now.”

He smiled at her and gave her a huge hug which made her really safe. She felt the warmth of his hug. Now she wished she could steal back that moment.

In his teen years, he grew out of that phase and he was real interested in the girls. Puberty was in high gear and he was a walking hormone. He was also quite a looker with the ladies. His skinniness was now muscle and he had short cropped black hair which tinted in the sun to brown and big almond shaped eyes that always grew bigger each time he talked. He was a hair short of six feet tall and had a smile that went from ear to ear. His mother felt he would be forever young. He was just crazy about as he put it “the ladies,” which is normal. But he had no time for them. He was going to school and also working at a job to support himself, and he helped Theresa around the apartment that they had moved into after leaving her sister's place. However, he was not the kind of son who would get mad at having so many responsibilities. It seemed to Theresa that he understood she was doing all she could do. Sometimes they would fight but it would be over meaningless things like “Put your coat on, it's freezing outside” because he was walking out with just a shirt or something else. But around fifteen, his father died from a heart attack. That did not hurt the family at the time because Johnny never knew his father well. He had left Theresa when Johnny was very young. Now the son only had pictures of his father. But he grieved. That was still his father.

He was just a normal teenager growing up doing all that he could at the time. Sometimes Theresa would pray to God like she had always done. Just to protect her son when she could not be around to watch over him. The prayer would say that he was all she had so please take care of him.

He was twenty-one when the incident happened. He had gotten his GED from high school and had a job as an auto mechanic and tow truck operator. High school had not been his thing. Three years before, he had dropped out midway through his senior year. At the time, he was working a full time job at a department store and couldn't stay focused on school. He was still living at home during that time and he had big plans for moving out of the neighborhood because it had gotten dangerous. He never got around to that.

Theresa could not even remember the last time she had said to her son “I love you,” and she hated herself for not saying more when she had the chance. When the cops came to her apartment around lunch time two days before, she had thought, What the hell are they doing here? Did Johnny get hurt on the job?” She did not think that they would say that her son was the victim of mistaken identity. Two nameless, faceless creatures had decided to get revenge on some kid that looked just like her son. Oh God please don't let it be worse she thought. Anything but that as their mouths kept moving. She could not hear them. She wouldn't hear them. Then the senior officer spoke to her.

“Miss. Your son never felt any pain. He died quickly from his injuries. It seems that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. From what information we have your son was taking a break from work and a lady's car stalled in front of his workplace so he decided to help her.”

“Two men approached him thinking he was someone else and killed him. The lady said that your son was fixing her motor and his back was turned to the assailants.”

“We caught the guys and they said they thought it was somebody else. It seems they were after some guy who was flirting with one of their girlfriends. It was revenge they were after.”

“How was he killed?”

The officer winced a little and tried to emphasize the fact that he had felt no pain and he died instantly. But she wanted to know what killed her son.

“Officer, how did my son die?”

“Well he was stabbed. They were fatal blows and that's why he died instantly.”

“How many fatal blows?” She needed to know how many.

“Well… there were some on his body… and…”

“JUST TELL ME HOW MANY FUCKING BLOWS!”

The officers looked at one another then back to Theresa. God, it's worse than I thought.

“Please no bullshit just tell me how many blows. I need to know.”

The officer who had not yet spoken told her the shocking amount.

“Well he was stabbed fifty one times. Twenty times in the head, two times his throat was slashed, and the rest were to the body.”

They quickly began talking to her then, so the impact of the information wouldn't be so great. They knew they wouldn't have to see her later when it really hit her.

“Miss we would like you to come down to the station to identify his body if at all possible.” The other officer spoke to her, trying to console her. Why do I have to identify the body? Why do I have to see what those monsters did to my son? Why couldn't they just leave and let me wither away? Why didn't God protect my baby this time?

Dead? Dead? Not my son! She could not even breathe. The pain was so intense she held her breath and had not realized she was doing it until she tried to calm down and could not. Warm tears welled up in her eyes and she saw nothing for rest of the time they were there. The cops told her to have someone escort her to the station. It might not be the best thing if she went by herself. She told them no one was available. Her family was on vacation visiting her mother. Nobody was around. The cops left her soaked in her tears and wishing this day had never come.

When she went to the station later on that evening, she could not even make out his face. His face had been ripped open from all the stab wounds and his flesh was bluish in color. There was a grayish spot on his head and when she inspected the area she saw his skull. They tore off his ear. There were two deep gashes in his throat and his head was nearly decapitated from the cuts. She could not look at any more. This is not my son. It can't be my son. I can't even recognize him. What did they do to him? I hope they rot in hell. I hope they die. I'll kill them myself. She left the station to go back home to the place she could not be in anymore.

It has been two days since the cops came and told her what happened. Now she just sits in her room or goes into her son's room and listens to the quiet coldness of the area around her. She still sits waiting for Johnny, hoping it was just a mistake and he is not really dead. She still prays to God, hoping He will answer her questions about why her son had to leave so soon. She wants to know why. She wants him to come back to her. But she wishes now more than ever before that God could at least hear her prayers. He has heard in the past, but now it seems not to really be that important anymore. Because she just wants to tell her son how much she loves him, how he was the only good thing in her life and other things she never got around to telling him. She just wants to hold her son one more time and wishes that someone up there would listen.

 

 

 

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