Chapter Text
One of my favorite memories was my mother.
There wasn't a lot of em’, that's for sure. One of them was about her cooking breakfast for the two of us, while dad was out “working.” I didn't know what he was doing then, but it didn't matter. Because when my dad was gone, it was just me and Mom.
She'd always pack my school lunches and at the end of each week she'd make me a peanut butter and banana sandwich. She didn't make it everyday because “you would just get sick of it sooner.”
“But mooom!” I would groan and grapple at the hem of her skirt. She'd chuckle and ruffle my hair with her gentle hands then lean down and hug me. “Just think of them as a reward for doing so well this week.” She'd whisper in my ear. I was usually only focused on one thing at a time as a kid and every week I would just sit in class thinking of that peanut butter and banana sandwich. I wonder if that was her way of distracting me from Dads work.
Mom loved to sing. It's where my love of singing came from. We'd sit at our old piano and she taught me all the scales and beginner songs. Then she'd take the helm and just experiment and sing. Playing whatever notes came to her and singing whatever words came across her mind. Her singing on the piano was an easy way to tell how she felt. When she was sad she'd play slow and sing softly. When she was happy she would sing loud and proud, her voice ringing loud enough for the whole city to hear. When she was angry she didn't play at all. She was silent. She would sit and stare out the window, counting the raindrops or clouds.
My dad loved my mom. And even though he's harsh and angry at me nowadays, doesn't mean he always was. I didn't see my dad a whole lot when I was little. The only time I saw him was the few days he came for dinner. He'd rumble in, go straight to Mom and give her kiss. Which was totally disgusting when I was little, but looking back I see how much he loved her.
It wasn't bad, back then I mean.
I remember when my mom died. I left for school that morning not knowing that I wouldn't see her when I came home. She seemed a little sad that day, and she even gave me a peanut butter and banana sandwich that day even though it wasn't Friday. It rained that day and when I came home all the lights were out leaving my home in a dim gray light.
I remember the one time I saw my dad cry.
It was awful. I had turned the corner to see my dad hunched over the piano. His hands clutching his face, his clothes wet and crimson, while his shoulders shook and big fat tears fell onto the piano keys. I remember feeling the room get colder, the white noise beginning to fade out, and my stomach plummet. “D… Dad?” I asked. He took one look at me before wiping his eyes, his body shuddering as he took a deep breathe. Standing up, he faced me and I can never forget the sadness locked in his eyes.
“ I couldn't save her Johnny.” Kneeling down, he pulled me into a hug. “I'm sorry.”
I was about 6 years old.
We moved after that.
Growing up in a criminal world wasn't easy, but growing up without my mom was even harder. As I got older I went to school less and less, and was home schooled more and more. Dad taught me a bunch of the basic stuff, algebra, trigonometry, but Barry eventually taught me all the rest. He's a quiet but real sweet guy. By the time I was 10 years old I had stopped going to school entirely and was officially put into the gang. I remember that day like yesterday… I was sleeping in my room in the Garage when my dad started shaking me awake.
“Johnny!” Dad whispered as he shook my side. “Wake up Johnny.” A flutter of panic overtook me, for Dad had warned me that waking me up early usually meant running from the cops or something worse.
“Wha- what!” Sitting up quickly I checked the windows for red and blue lights. “What's wrong? Do we need to move?” Dad laughed.
“Hahah! No, we don't Son.” I noticed the big grin on his face. Raising an eyebrow I asked,
“Well, what are you smiling for then?” Dad laughed again, and pulled a present out from behind him and set it on my lap.
“Happy Birthday, Johnny my boy!” I stared wide eyed at the gift. It wasn't even wrapped in actual wrapping paper, just crusty newspapers. It didn't matter though, the fact that Dad had remembered my birthday made my heart soar.
“Aw Dad, you didn't have to-”
“Of course I did, now come on. Open it up.” Smiling, I eagerly ripped through the paper and immediately guffawed.
“That FTC skateboard I've wanted! Dad, I-”
“Wait, wait,” Dad interrupted. “ there's one more present in there.”
“Oh.” I said, while rummaging through the remaining newspaper. Feeling around a pulled at a string and what came out made my heart plummet.
It was one of Dads rabbit masks.
“Dad… I-” I stuttered.
“Now I know what you’re thinking.” Dad began and my head shot up towards him real quick.
“You do?”
“Yeah, you think you're not ready, and that you're not cut out for the job but I think it's time for you to join the family business, eh?” He had the biggest smile on his face, saw the look on mine and misinterpreted it. “Now you won't be doing anything hard or nothing yet. Just some lookout jobs. You can do that can't ya Johnny.”
I stared at Dad’s face for what felt like a century. I wanted to tell him no, I didn't want to do this. And, NO I don't want to become a part of the business. I want to do what I want to do. I love to sing. I WANT to sing. Mom would want me to sing. I felt my mind and heart setting in, ready to tell him. I opened my mouth and said:
“Yeah, for sure.”
“Attaboy!”