I Chose Death to Please My Parents

Mom gave Dad a pointed look. Seemingly uncomfortable, she asked, "What kind of nonsense are you saying in front of Jacob?"

She kept her voice low, but her annoyance was evident.

Dad abruptly dropped the suitcase he was carrying and raised his voice. "What's wrong with what I said? Am I wrong? We've raised him for 18 years.

"What else does he actually have going for him besides playing the dutiful son? His grades have never been anything to brag about. He's always just done enough to squeak by. We were never like that.

"We even had to buy his way into high school! With his grades, he won't even get into a no-name college. He'll have no choice but to go to some crappy trade school!"

The suitcase fell heavily onto the floor with a loud thud.

Mom glanced at me, who was frozen stiff off to the side, and snapped, "That's enough! Don't talk about him like that!"

Dad's eyes were bloodshot as he glared at her. "Lori, are you seriously picking a fight with me over this ingrate?"

He turned to me, his face twisted with anger. "Jacob, be honest. Aren't your younger brother and sister better than you? For a family like ours, isn't it embarrassing for us to have a kid who can't even get into college?"

Suddenly, all the anger was directed at me. Panicking, I turned to him, and all I could do was apologize. "I'm sorry, Dad. I know I've let you down."

But somehow, that only made him angrier. "Enough, Jacob Brewer! Every time I say anything to you, all you ever do is apologize and play the victim. What else are you good at besides acting like you're devoted to the family?

"For all I know, even that so-called devotion is just an act to make people feel sorry for you!"

With that, Dad spun around and slammed his bedroom door shut. Loud crashing and banging came from inside.

Mom glanced at me and sighed. "Jacob, your dad's just stressed about your grades. He doesn't mean what he says. Don't take it to heart…"

I swallowed my bitterness and gave a small nod. "It's okay, Mom. You should go check on Dad."

She soon went inside to calm Dad down. As I stared at the closed door, my chest ached terribly.

I'd always known I wasn't as smart as my younger brother and sister. I'd watched Mom's face fall with disappointment every time she saw my grades.

So I always tried my best to make up for it in other ways, hoping I could at least make them a little happier. That was why I helped care for my little brother, Ivan Brewer. I did everything—from feeding and changing him to putting him to bed and playing with him.

On weekends, I'd even take my little sister, Willow Brewer, to and from her extracurriculars.

Even when Grandma became paralyzed three years ago, the moment her caregiver left for the day and I got home from school, taking care of her was my responsibility as well.

I did all of this hoping Mom and Dad would think that I was at least a good son, even if I wasn't a great student. But just now, Dad even accused me of faking it.

That must be how he saw me. To him, being stupid was a disgrace, and no matter what I did, it was simply just an act.

I turned around and quietly slipped into Grandma's room. To my surprise, she was awake, staring at me with her cloudy eyes.

I sat down beside her bed, taking her hand. "Grandma, am I really that horrible?"

She moved her hand to gently touch my palm. She seemed to be writing something, so I focused on the movement.

She was writing a word with a lot of loops. She was writing the word "good".

Tears spilled over before I could stop them, and I choked up. "You're the only one who thinks I'm good… Only you do…"

Grandma made a soft, unintelligible sound, her own eyes growing misty. Wiping away my tears, I forced a smile.

"It's okay, Grandma. I'll take good care of you. It's the only thing I'm actually good at, anyway."