Poor Mrs. Pauley

Here I am. Sitting on my front steps. Its chilly outside. Unlike most days. Light gray clouds blanket the sky. Its slowly starts to drizzle. My name is Christian and Im 12 years old. I see blue lights. They’re everywhere. Mrs. Pauley seems to have locked herself in her house. She’s barricaded the doors. And I can see her sons faces in the windows. Scared. Crying. And angry. What seems like a normal day to most people living in downtown is not the typical norm today. Then I hear gunshots. 

Everyones running. People hiding behind cars. False alarm. Mrs. Pauley shot the ceiling. She pretty old and blind in one eye. But she’s not giving up without a fight. She’s yelling some obscenities out her window. One by one, police officers get closer to the door. They are behind the bushes now, attempting a stealth attack. They have a door opener. Something big. And on the silent count of three, they slam into the door. Its chaos. NO one knows anything. People are screaming inside the house. And more gun shots occur. 

 

Minutes later, police are dragging out Mrs. Pauley. She’s handcuffed and battered. She gave up one hell of a fight. Her sons slowly follow her out the door and placed into custody behind the gated window in the police car. She had no money. She was behind on rent. As the police cars drove by slowly, she took one long look at me and smiled. And as she smiled, she gave me a wink as if she had something up her sleeve. And then she disappeared. 

I never knew what that wink meant. Nor why she was so behind on money. A couple years later, Mrs. Pauley died and I received a letter in the mail. It was addressed to me from Mrs. Pauleys son. His name was Andrew and he was about 20 years old now. And this is what he wrote.

“Dear Christian,

My name is Andrew and I need to tell you something important. A long time ago, my mom was lonely. We recently had left our father in jail and he was a good for nothing loser. She started talking to the neighbors and then one day, she met your father. Your father was a nice man. He came by and always helped at our house. I believe he was also lonely because his wife had passed away before you were born. Im sure you were told that your mother died when giving birth to you but in reality, Anna or Mrs. Pauley as you know her was really your mother. She kept her distance. Your father wanted nothing to do with her but she always had on eye on you. That day you fell out of the tree. She was the one who called the ambulance. And when you always asked to mow her lawn, she always said yes with a smile. 

She wanted me to give something to you after she died so this is why Im writing you this letter. In our backyard, she left a metal box under the tree. It has 50,000 dollars in it and its all for you to spend with how you see fit. I know she may not have been there for you physically as a mother and you never really got to know her but she loved you as much as she loved us. I hope you can forgive her.

Sincerely your half-bother,

Andrew Pauley

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