The Greaving
Mother
by
Rob Cottignies
Once
you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must
be the truth. -Arthur Conan Doyle
I wish I was clever enough to make up this bizarrely true and truly bizarre story. Also, I did not change names
to protect anyone.
Enjoy…
A friend and I were destroying robots,
running from dinosaurs, and battling aliens. It was the coolest gaming system
around.
My father interrupted the fantasy worlds
by calling and telling me to "Come home NOW". He was clearly angry
but what could a good 12-year-old have done to make that so?
My friend obviously asked why I had to
leave.
"I don't know."
I really didn't.
As soon as I got home, I desperately asked
what was going on but was told it would wait until my mother got there.
So I
sat, confused, in the living room with my furious dad. Seconds, minutes, hours.
The whole time wondering what I'd done. No alcohol, no drugs, no girls,
no bad grades.
I just sat there, without the faintest of clues but frightened to
ask why again.
My mom arrived and they stood above me as
I sat on the couch. Intimidating. One of them firmly said, "Is there
anything you'd like to tell us?" I could think of nothing so I remained
speechless.
"Mrs. Greaves stopped by a little
while ago. Why do you think she would do that?"
(Mrs. Greaves was the mother of twins my
age- Brian and Paul. They were known in town for consistently acting
fragile during school sports. In soccer, the slightest touch would send either
one of them flying and crying, which prompted the mom to run onto the field
screaming at the ref, the coaches, the kids, anyone. After a while of this (and
not realizing the kids were certainly not to blame), everyone started viciously
hitting the boys. If chaos and a penalty would ensue regardless, why not earn
it?)
Back at my house, I had no idea why Mrs.
Greaves would stop by. I wasn't friends with the boys and our parents had never
met before.
Once more, "Is there anything you'd
like to tell us?"
I still had nothing to express but
confused rage so I demanded to know what was going on.
Mrs. Greaves had brought Paul with her and
there were finger marks on his neck. He had clearly been choked, and I was
accused of doing it.
I hadn’t, and told my parents as
much.
To my frustration, they didn't believe me. Why would they? Sure, I was
their son but an upset mother had more clout than an adolescent.
I was sent to my
room while they sorted out the details. I was so scared that I wondered how I
could have strangled someone then forgotten about it. It was the only thing
that made sense. I must have done it. His mother was crying, there were marks
on his neck, and they both accused me.
But I didn't remember doing it! And it
would've just happened!!!
After another indeterminate amount of
time, my parents came in. They gave me one last chance: I was in trouble
regardless but if I confessed, my punishment would be less severe. I'd taken
that road a few times in my youth but not this time; there was no way I choked
this kid.
Possibly because I'd been so honest in the
past, I felt like they believed me, at least a little bit. Plus, I likely
seemed shaken and nervous instead of defiant.
The night went on and I was asked a few
more times, though more casually. They were angry, I felt helpless, and
everybody was confused.
The next day, my parents took me to school
to meet with the principal. They explained what happened and I explained what
didn't happen.
Surprisingly, she did not seem alarmed.
Situations like this had happened before with the twins and their mother. The
principal had a thick folder of accusations and investigations. Most of them
went nowhere or were deemed false.
There was no proof but we all determined
that Mrs. Greaves herself had choked Paul then blamed it on me, which was
curious enough without adding that any quarrels I’d had were with his brother. Her
fatal flaw was picking the wrong kid to strangle. Regardless, a grown woman attacked
her own son then blamed it on a 6th-grader without any apparent motive.
The whole thing made no sense but it was
the only reasonable theory.
My parents profusely apologized to me but
I understood their predicament. Though a stranger, Mrs. Greaves had a strong
case and I was 12- naturally wired to cause mischief and deny it to save
myself.
Two more years went by without incident
until the twins went for schooling elsewhere.
I've heard they're doing all right
now, so I guess the crazy old witch didn't affect them as negatively as
predicted. I wonder if Paul remembers this story or if it just got archived
along with other unimaginable lunacy.
My point here is that you should trust
yourself but weigh the facts because you just never know what people will do.
And don't strangle your kids, unless they
deserve it.