Grappling with Morality

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All it took was one quick signature, inscribed in pitch black ink. It was a near entrance to wealth and an easy “feat.” to prosperity. But during that exact moment, a torrent of thoughts flooded William’s head as he questioned “At what cost?”

Before this notice emerged, every day remained unchanged and every passing second was a reminder of the drab quality of life. The grimy stains and critter droppings, that only accentuated the revolting state of his home, were ubiquitous. The repellent odor of tobacco smoke and the conspicuous cracks in the wall met William every time he arrived from school. William wasn’t supposed to take pride in these traits, yet he always knew that they would be waiting for him once he arrived “home.”

But as he rushed to his mother’s bedroom, he could already sense that something was different. Next to his mother, laid an ashtray filled with a dozen cigars, as usual. But what he noticed was her appearance - her cheeks were ashen and her eyebrows were cocked in deep uncertainty, a plethora of creases forming on her pale forehead. Therefore, William did what he had always done to grasp the truth; he searched his mother’s stern yet desolate eyes, refusing to back down. And knowing how futile her attempts would be, his mother whispered the six words he would’ve never imagined would be said, “You must go live with him.”

William didn’t even need to question who “him” was; he was well aware that it was his father. But he couldn’t comprehend why his mother, who had tried to limit all communication between the two, was now encouraging William. As if she had read his mind, William’s mother took a deep sigh and continued. Breath reeking of nicotine, she uttered, “I made a vow to take care of you wholeheartedly, and I’ve failed to live up to that. I would much rather have you stay with your father in the suburbs than keep you here for the sake of my pride.”

[...]

In spite of economical tribulations, his mother had cared for him for seventeen years; she never hesitated to lift up his spirits or sacrifice anything for the sake of his well-being. On the other hand, William couldn’t help but dream of the life he’d have with his father. Musings of wealth had crept into his thoughts, and he hated it. He’d hated himself for allowing it. But his hatred didn’t obliterate his desire. William experienced a grapple with his morality and his yearning, but eventually, one side was deemed victorious.

William fell asleep bitter that evening.

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Published April 6, 2021

Written by Nana Opare-Addo ~ Edited by Farah Mourad ~ Graphics by Elwin Fu