Chapter 2: The Son That Never Was

Late at night, when the world was quiet, Mom would whisper to me, voice trembling, that Dad would kill her one day. I’d hold her hand under the covers, promising to never let that happen, even though I was just a kid and terrified myself.

One day after school, I came home to a crowd outside the building. I pushed through, heart pounding, and saw Mom—battered and desperate—straddling the third-floor balcony, her cries echoing down to the street below. My heart stopped.

The people below were shouting—

"Jump! If you’re so tough, jump!"

"She’s just pretending—she won’t do it."

Dad, already drunk, was humiliated, his face twisted in anger. He looked ready to explode. He yelled up, "Get down! You’re embarrassing me!"

My world spun. I dropped to my knees, hands scraped raw on the pavement, crying and begging:

"Mom, please, please don’t leave me..."

Thud—!

After the sickening crash, everything went still. The crowd fell silent. The air was heavy with shock and the scent of dust and summer heat.

There was a maple tree in front of our apartment. Planted by Mom when I was born. It had always been my favorite, its leaves turning the brightest red in the fall.

She once said, "When you get married, I’ll cut down this tree and make you a hope chest." She’d smiled, her eyes full of dreams.

No one expected that act of motherly love would one day save her life. When she fell, the maple’s trunk snagged her clothes and broke her fall, saving her from a fatal injury. It was like the tree reached up and caught her, refusing to let her go. I stared, breathless, hardly believing it.

But the baby was lost. The hospital was cold. The air was sharp with antiseptic and grief.

When the doctor told Dad and Grandma that the baby had been a boy, both broke down. Dad bawled in the hospital hallway, slamming his fist into the wall, "My son! My son!"

When Mom woke up, Grandma burst in, her tears hot with anger. She started scolding through sobs, "What kind of curse are you putting on this family? You want to end the Johnson line?"

But it was them who’d driven Mom to the edge! The injustice burned inside me. But I was too small to say it out loud.

When Dad came in, Mom hung her head and wept, her shoulders shaking. For once, he looked a little guilty, shifting his weight. I watched, hoping for something different. "Mom, that’s enough."

"Enough? I’m just thinking of you! Now you’re defending your wife? She killed your son!" Grandma’s voice was sharp as broken glass.

Dad fell silent. He sided with Grandma again, glaring at Mom with a hatred that chilled me to the bone.

Two days later, Grandma insisted on bringing Mom home. "Every day in the hospital costs money! Back in my day, we gave birth in the morning and worked the fields by night. Besides, she didn’t even give birth this time!" There was no arguing with her.