I remember Mom telling me not to go into the mine, saying it would kill anyone who went in. I now understand why. I’m sorry I ever went into that mine. Mom roughly grabbed my arm and dragged me back to the house, madder than a hornet. “You can wash at home, Sonny,” she growled at me. I became scared. I’ve never seen Mom this mad. We arrived at home and I went straight to the basement to wash off the coal. When I got out, I could still feel the coal grime in my pores and smell the coal dust caught in my nose. I walked up the basement stairs ready to receive my punishment. I was trembling. I couldn’t control myself. Mom looked up from the table when I walked into the kitchen. To my dismay, Mom had tears and a sadness in her eyes. However, the anger was still visible through the tears. …show more content…
I don’t want to see you till tomorrow morning. Get out of my sight.” I laid up in bed for the longest time. I wasn’t tired. At quarter till midnight, I heard Dad enter the house through the front door, which was unusual. A kitchen chair scraped back and footsteps could be heard. Mom must’ve stood up. “Never bring another child of mine into that killing place. I won’t allow my children to work in that mine. I’m done with you working there. I want to leave this place.” “I’m giving you the best life I possibly can, but you’re always wanting more. This is the only life that I know. You’re asking me to give up my livelihood! I won’t stand here and listen to you tell me my job isn’t enough! The mine is my mother’s milk! How do you expect me to give up the mine and walk away? I care about the mine like a child!” Dad forcefully yelled. “Yes, I know you care about that mine like a child because you treat that devil’s place better than your own child!” “How can you say that?! I give Jim everything he wants!” “I’m not talking about Jim! I’m talking about Sonny! He’s your son too!” Mom yelled at Dad. “I gave Sonny a tour of the mine
... all, we must not forget there comes a time when a worker’s life and happiness is worth more than the hourly wage he is paid.
The expression on my mom’s face showed fear. I knew something was wrong by the way she looked so worried and confused.
She waited until the next morning and went to prison with the special shoes and socks he wore. She begged them to let my father have these things. They only laughed at her! “He doesn’t need anything where he’s going, lady. Go home and take that with you.” Six weeks later the postman brought a letter. My father’s name was Martin and it said the following: “Martin Wolf, age 47, died of unknown causes.” Then they sent a little urn, where you put ashes when someone dies. My father had died! My mother wrote to me, “Our father is no longer with us. What am I going to do? How am I going to exist?”
When she and her Ma got home, it was almost dark outside. Frances saw something suspicious, her brother(Mike), shouldn’t be out at this time. Once they got inside, Frances and her mother tucked in all the children and went to bed themselves. Frances was still wondering about Mike, “What was he doing?” She fell asleep falling wiry of her younger brother. When she up, they had breakfast, and headed to their jobs. Frances was still wondering what Mike had done. “Was he stealing? No, their Da(father) had taught them better than that before he fell ill and died. She had never seen her mother cry until then.
The women went inside the boy’s room, and saw him laid on the bed, crying and sobbing. When the boy realized she had just come in, he took out a huge brown packet from under his bed and showed it to his mother. “In it, is money, lots of money, and I am going to run away and make a fortune more.” Suddenly, he stood up, wiped of his tears, and rushed downstairs with it. His mother followed him. He took almost all of the bread that the family had, and rushed to the door. As he was going out the door, his mother laid her hand on him. “I will let you go, only because your father is no use to me. You are the only hope.”
As I walked out of the courthouse and down the ramp, I looked at my mom in disappointment and embarrassment. Never wanting to return to that dreadful place, I slowly drug my feet back to the car. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and I didn't want anyone else to know what I had done. Gaining my composure, I finally got into the car. I didn't even want to hear what my mom had to say. My face was beat red and I was trying to hide my face in the palms of my hands because I knew what was about to come; she was going to start asking me questions, all of the questions I had been asking myself. Sure enough, after a short period of being in the car, the questions began.
She came running down the stairs of my house looking frightened. I immediately grabbed her and ran down to the cellar of my house. ¨Hello? I heard coming from the phone. So I grabbed the it.
Walking into the gym, I could feel my heart racing. "You will do fine," my mom said as she grasped my hand. "All your hard work will pay off," she said as she hugged me goodbye. I could see in her eyes how nervous she was for me. It was true though.
Besides the fact that he had his fists clenched he looked decently calm, he muttered a quiet”hi” and then went back to his room. I wondered if my mom had said something to him. I felt the cold wood of the kitchen table and shook my head. My mom rubbed my hair with her warm and luxurious hands and smiled at me, “ I messed up mom” I
I am finally going to confront her. “ Mom, you here?” I scream from the other room. “ Yeah, I’m in the kitchen,” she replies back. “ I need to ask you something about dad’s murder,” I utter trying to fight off the tears.
I felt uneasy but still managed to put on my boots and coat. My parents were upstairs sleeping like a baby. If my dad would have known that I sneaked out the house he would have hit the ceiling. I shivered outside, as I walked to the corner to meet Selena.
My brothers shouted together as they bolted up the stairs, pulling their hoodies over their heads. I tied on my worn out, faded white Converse, kissed mom and walked out the door, up the gravel steps. My dad started the ignition and turned to look at me in the passenger seat. “You okay?” he inquired.
As I bounded down the stairs, the foul stench sifting up my nostrils told me I forgot to do something. At the bottom of the stairs, I was certain of this mistake when my mother confronted me and asked me, “Open those choppers, let me see.” My mouth opened quite slowly to ensure that she understood, that Hope Goodman does not need her mom to check her teeth every morning. “Uh, uh, uhh. Looks like someone forgot to scrub these teeth in here,” my mom chastised. My face turned a bright, peachy rose and my feet swirled around on the wood floor and raced up the steep blocks of carpet.