Mama Needs Us

“Shhh! Stop crying, Lovey! He’ll hear us.”

Lovey tried to be as quiet as he could, but tears continued to flow. His trembling subsided. “He’s hitting her. What are we going to do?”

“Quiet! I have to think…Please!”

When they heard their mama’s scream, they instantly froze.

Ally hugged Lovey’s paper-thin body. His shivers subsided. “I’m afraid, Ally.”

“I know, but we have to be brave…For Mama! Remember what Nana said?”

“Mama needs us,” Lovey whispered.

“Yes!”

A door slammed. The house grew quiet. The children stopped whispering. Did they dare to move? As they crept towards the door, ears glued near the keyhole, they heard their mama crying.

Almost immediately, their stepfather’s truck stuttered then roared away. They waited until the sound died. Still distrustful, they inched the door open.

Tiptoeing down the dark hallway, they paused when they heard their mama’s wrenching sobs. Throwing caution aside, they dashed into the room.

Mama was on the floor, bloodied with a bruise around her left eye. Rubbish scattered around the room. They rushed towards her and tried to help her up.

“Are you hurt, Mama?” Ally finally asked.

“No, dear.” Her tear-stained eyes contradicted her words. “I don’t like you seeing me like this…A cup of tea would be nice.” When she realized that they were staring at her, she added, “Please?”

The children, their faces pale, slowly backed out of the room. In the kitchen, they decided that they had to do something.

“What’s wrong with Mama, Ally?”

“I don’t know. Let me think.”

“Is she going to be OK?”

“Please stop, Lovey. Let me think!”

“Will he come back?”

“Stop!” Ally screamed. She immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry, Lovey. I have to think. Do you understand?”

When Lovey started trembling again, Ally realized that she had to figure something out fast.

Two little bodies hugged. It was a warm day, but they were shivering as if cold. Ally tried to light the stove, but her hands trembled so much that she almost gave up. When they finally got the kettle on, they watched the flame.

“I miss Nana. She’d know what to do.” Ally sighed. “But it’s been two years since she died. And we promised.”

Lovey remained quiet. He wasn’t sure if they’d ever give their Mama what Nana gave them. They were supposed to give Mama the little box on one condition: that her husband, their stepfather, was gone. Forever.

They didn’t know what was in the little box. They’d imagined a treasure map, or some secret compartment, and other countless possibilities, but they had never peeked inside.

“How are you feeling, Lovey?”

Watching the flames had calmed him down.

“Couldn’t we run away?” he finally asked.

“We can’t leave Mama. And where would we go?”

“We can all run away!” Lovey suggested.

“And leave our home to him?”

They jumped when the kettle whistled. Mechanically, they made tea, arranged some biscuits on a plate, then brought it all to their Mama.

Mama appeared calm. She’d washed her face. Her hair was neat. She’d even tidied up the room. They watched as she poured her tea.

Ally, who was almost eleven years old, had seen things that would challenge most grownups. And seven years old Lovey had withdrawn from everything since their mama bought The Man that they’d never called ‘Papa’ into their home.

It wasn’t too bad when Nana was still alive. At least they could stay with her whenever The Man started drinking.

Nana had warned Mama about The Man, but Mama, forever a believer that she could fix all human frailties, had told Nana that The Man only needed a stable home and that all would be well. That was over five years ago. In the two years since Nana died, The Man had become the children’s, and now Mama’s, worst nightmare.

The constant loud fights had escalated to physical violence. Mama seemed drained of life when The Man was around. Lovey seemed catatonic whenever The Man glanced his way. Only Ally seemed unfazed, but for how long?

“Mama, can we talk?”

“If you want, Ally. What about?”

“About us, Mama. You, Lovey, and me. What are we going to do?”

“Do? I’ve done all I could. What else can I do?”

“We’re afraid, Mama!” 


“He’s a good man. It’s only when he drinks! And he’s never touched you, has he?”

“And what about Lovey?” Ally pointed at him.

Mama glanced over at Lovey. “Come here, Lovey. Give me a hug.”

“Mama, Lovey was badly hurt last time.”

“Lovey, I promise he’ll never touch you again.” added Mama.

The sound of brakes and tires squealing on the pavement shot through the house. They froze. The Man entered, a bottle of gin in one hand, twirling his keys with the other.

“Well, well, well, the welcoming committee! It’s about time we have a little family chin-ding. Move over, woman. Let’s see.” He stank of alcohol. After settling next to Mama, he took a swirl, his bloodshot eyes on Lovey. In a loud slurred voice, he said, “Come on, Lovey. Come here. Let’s have a good look at you.”

Lovey stood in front of him, looking down at The Man’s soiled shoes. The Man watched as he continued drinking. Lovey’s shoulders started shaking.

“I never liked the name ‘Lovey’. Sissy sound!” Another swig. “Look at me, boy!” he screamed. Lovey jumped. The Man laughed, then noticed Lovey’s pants, the spreading urine going down the boy’s legs. “Gees, you’re disgusting.”

“Go change your pants, Lovey,” Mama said.

The man slapped Mama’s face so hard that her head snapped back. “Did I say speak, woman?”

“I’m speaking to my son!” whispered Mama.


“You dare talk back to me? You, you…” He lifted the bottle to strike her.

As his arm started to move, Lovey dove towards his mama. His body diverted The Man’s arm. The bottle hit the wooden back of the armchair. Glass splintered everywhere. Some grazed Lovey’s back, but a glass shard lodged on The Man’s neck. Confused, he yanked the piece of glass out. Blood gushed out in spurts. The Man screamed. Clutching his neck, he continued screaming.

Ally rushed towards Lovey and Mama. The smell of blood and gin suddenly filled the room.

The primal sounds pierced the quiet neighborhood. The neighbor, hearing the screams, called the cops. By the time the ambulance arrived, The Man was dead.

Lovey spent half the day in the hospital. After getting stitched up for various cuts on his back, he was allowed to go home. Mama refused treatment for her swollen left eye. She had asked the neighbor to hire someone to clean up the house. Ally stayed home to help.

It was hard for Lovey to believe that The Man wasn’t going to be there when he got home. The fresh-baked bread aroma couldn’t hide the lingering smell of gin. It was a reminder that they’d had a close call with death.

Ally brought out a small wooden box wrapped in linen for Mama.

“What’s this?” Mama asked.

“From Nana,” Ally and Lovey simultaneously answered.

Mama reverently unraveled the brown linen wrap. The little box, stained in spots, had a greenish brass clip, and a tiny key tucked under the buckle.

Ally and Lovey held their breath as Mama struggled to open the latch. Finally, there was a squeak as the rusted lock clicked open. Inside was a little black book and an envelope with two photo negatives.

On the inside flap of the little black book were the words: ‘Remember how we used to play. Who hides? Who seeks?’

That was it. There were diagrams and drawings, but no other words.

“Was Nana an artist?” Ally asked.

“I don’t think so,” said Mama.

“What about those negatives?” continued Ally.

Mama held the negatives to the light. She was puzzled at first, but a wide grin slowly appeared on her face. “It’s a book and a diagram. We have a book, so where’s the diagram?” Mama examined the little black book. Tapping on the back spine, she paused. Nothing! She examined each page carefully, then flipped the pages faster. “Oh, look!” When she flipped the pages faster, the lines turned into a drawing of a clock. “Lovey, it’s a clock! The one in your room.”

They all rushed to Lovey’s room. The old clock was more of an ornament than a timepiece. An antique. It was heavy. Laying it on Lovey’s bed, they noticed that the wood on one side was caving inwards. They pried the panels apart.

Inside was a neat roll of cash. Twenty-thousand dollars total. A fitting end on such a frightful day.