Home


Published
1 year, 5 months ago
Updated
1 year, 16 days ago
Stats
2 1596

Entry 1
Published 1 year, 5 months ago
837

Vincent is a teenager with divorced parents. Son of a deadbeat absent father and a mother who fosters other children.

Theme Lighter Light Dark Darker Reset
Text Serif Sans Serif Reset
Text Size Reset

1. Be the man


Vincent at age 17.

(Vincent is Sacha’s biological son but he almost never addresses her as “mom”, he avoids addressing her completely.)

Sacha is fidgeting around looking for her purse. Her foster daughter Venice (15) has a play at school and is about to leave. The girl is wearing a school backpack, phone in one hand and script in the other. “Don’t you DARE go out without a jacket!” Sacha screams.

Venice turns around to face her foster mother, leaving the front door open. “It’s warm outside.” She waves her hand outside of the house, making sure her statement was correct.

“IT WON’T BE AT 8PM. TAKE IT NOW!” She snaps again while taking Venice’s jacket and shoving it into her arms.

“I need to show up for rehearsal, please just take it with you! I'll wear it in the evening I promise!” Venice pleaded.

“I won’t carry YOUR jacket! Take it and close the door! You want this house to get infested with flies?”

Vincent steps in and stretches his hand out. “I’ll take it.”

“Thanks. I gotta go.” Venice is relieved, turns around and leaves.

Sacha rolls her eyes and scoffs, ignoring her son’s presence.

Vincent and his mother later left to watch the play. Vincent carried his foster sister’s jacket in a shopping bag as he walked alongside his mother without talking.

At the school play, Vincent was rather entertained. The play was a funny spin on the classic tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. He clapped the loudest whenever Venice was done with her narration.

Sacha didn’t look so amused, she looked like something stunk. Her nose must have hurt for holding the world championship for having such muscle range.

After the play, Sacha reached out for the bag on the floor and grabbed it before Vincent could. Venice is being praised alongside her friends. Sacha walks towards Venice, her friends and their moms. She announces out loud. “My goodness it’s so dark and cold outside, thank goodness that I brought your jacket!”

Vincent is visibly upset and clenches his fists, he remains silent.

Vincent at 19.

Vincent is brewing mint tea for Sacha and her guests. The kitchen and the living room are connected, the place is rather small so he is more-less forced to listen to them.

Sacha is fake-crying to her two friends as they sit together on a couch. “Nadia is gone. I’ve been taking care of her for a whole year! She was like my own child, I would sleep alongside her, bathe her, buy her adorable tiny clothes! I don’t think I can ever foster one again.” She blows her nose. ”Her adopters-”

“Her parents.” Vincent corrects Sacha and stares him down.

Sacha frowns at him for a split second before returning to her crocodile tears. “They never had children before, they don’t know how to take proper care of one! Just last week when they took her out for a stroll she got SICK!”

“Children get common cold all the time, it’s inevitable. You’re being nitpicky just to antagonize this young couple.”

One hour later.

“SHE’S NOTHING TO YOU.” Vinced screams. “Why would you buy gold for a toddler who is no longer in your care? She’s ADOPTED. SHE HAS A FAMILY! AND WHY WOULD YOU BRAG ABOUT BUYING GOLD TO THOSE TWO GOSSIPERS? WE DON’T HAVE MONEY!”

Sacha is slowly finishing her tea. “Her adopters invited me to her baptism. They are grateful to me for taking care of her and they want me to attend.”

“How are you gonna go to Spain? Dad won’t drive you there and I know for sure you don’t have any gas money!”

“I’ve got it covered. You’re riled up for no reason.”

Vincent shakes in anger. “YOU DIDN’T EVEN TAKE CARE OF NADIA! I DID!” He slams his fist against the wall. Sacha with each passing second appears more enraged. “You didn’t even change her diapers regularly. I HAD TO LEARN TO DO THAT. I made her purée on daily basis because you couldn’t bother to buy her other baby food. Because all you spend money on is makeup, art supplies and cigarettes!”

“You ungrateful brat! Do you know how hard it is to be a foster mother?! The money I earn by taking in these kids I have to spend on your education. You’ve got your own room and a warm bed. A little babysitting won’t kill you, instead of yelling you should be grateful I don’t charge you rent like American parents do.”

“You haven’t paid 60% of this year’s tuition fees. I work part time to make ends meet! TO PAY OFF YOUR DEBTS! NO WONDER DAMIAN LEFT YOU WERE LEECHING OFF HIM TOO!”

“DON’T MENTION THAT BASTARD’S NAME. I FED HIM AND KEPT HIM CLOTHED, THE ONLY REASON HE ATTENDED COLLEGE IS THANKS TO ME.”