Joey entered this world destined for hardship. He wouldn’t have the privilege to know where he would be and how he would get by. I all began as a day by day struggle that threw him into a vast wasteland of abuse and exploitation.
While his mother shifted from lover to lover, he was left alone in anticipation of the next one leaving and having to fill in by taking care of his mother – more and more.
I don’t know if it was her self-centeredness, mental illness, lazy or selfishness that kept her on the couch in front of soap opera’s all day. Abandoning the child she had brought into this world. Leaving him alone to deal with day to day life and their support. The results were all the same to Joey.
He had to see that she ate, he had to see that he got groceries to the house, he had to see that he had clothes and got off school all right.
She wouldn’t even get to the Social Services offices to get signed up for any kind of aid or food stamps. After all, Brandon always took care of things for her. Somehow.
she really had no interest in how things just appeared. Groceries, rent, etc. And awesome job for this little man of 11.
They had traveled from a life of shuffling all over Florida; headed north. One state at a time. At first the school took little notice of Joey. He would show up dirty, most of the time. Usually had most of his homework. Seemed bright enough. Never made any trouble. Was very quiet.
More and more he was dozing in class. His homework was getting more careless. Finally the dozing turned into full sleep, several times a day. Notes were sent home. But, no response. A few more notes. Then, a call. Side Job.
Besides taking care of his mother, Joey had to earn living for both of them. He was a cute boy. Blonde hair, blue eyes, dimples. Cute enough to have been a model or appear in commercials.
He was getting closer to the streets and street kids. He was never meant to fit in with normal family life. Go to school; come home, do homework, eat supper, watch tv. He really didn’t fit anywhere. So, he took to the streets. He found similar souls on the streets.
And, old men were somewhere close by the street kids. This is how he was offered a ‘side job’. It was confusing to him. Who these men were. Why they were messin’ with him. The things they wanted to do. And how they wanted him to perform.
First one, then two. His nights were filling with many faces of men wanting enjoyment from this young, blond boy.
His sex education so far had been around his mother and her lovers. He was in for some of life’s raw experiences. He was sold, on an hourly basis, to old men in the back of limosines. At 11, then 12, then on – anyone over 20 was an old man. Somehow they kept getting older.
His hours kept getting later. His side job more routine. He wouldn’t start until about 10 and at first would just go on until about 1 a.m. Then, it was 2. Then 3. Little by little, there wasn’t much left of him. Nor room for life’s routine. Sleep. Homework. Classes.
By 13, he was beginning to look old. His face began to show how weiry his life had become. His face was dull. His eyes had bags under them, he was pale and he smiled less and less.
It was just a job. It put food on their table, got them clothes and kept his mother undisturbed.
He paid such and awful price.
Copyright March 20, 2000
Karole K. Jensen