THE BOY
So you laughed at his hair.
You said it looked stupid.
You probably forgot about it five minutes later.
He didn’t.
He went home crying,
wiping his face before he opened the door
So no one would ask questions.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
His sister was in her room.
He heard her crying.
He opened the door a little.
She was holding razors.
Not like she was going to shave.
He couldn’t put a name to it.
So he closed the door.
He went to the hospital.
It was a routine part of his day.
His mom was there.
She looked smaller than usual.
Pale. Tired. Weak.
The doctor was talking in a quiet voice.
Like he didn’t want the words to hurt too much.
Like doctors do, when they deliver bad news.
His mom was crying.
That’s what broke him that day.
She never cried.
Not when she lost the baby.
Not when she found out she had cancer.
Not when his dad left and didn’t come back.
But she saw him standing there.
And she sat up.
She wiped her eyes.
She pretended she was okay.
She asked him if anyone liked his new hair.
The one she had done herself.
Because she had wanted to fulfill her dreams of being a hairstylist.
Before she went away.
He said yes.
He lied.
She smiled.
And somehow,
That smile hurt more than anything else.
You never really know
what someone’s life is like.
So be kind.
By Lauren T-H G7