Don't Cry Out (2)
WHAT! What did he say? He loves me? Oh brother, just what I needed, a freak! “You what?” “I love you.” “No you don’t. You may like what I can do, but you don’t love me.” “OK” OK what? This was past creepy, this was scary. I have known this guy for a couple hours, and he calls to tell me he loves me? “Look, I think you’re a nice guy, and I understand you might be a little confused, but believe me when I tell you, the last thing you are feeling is love. Thank you for the thought, but please, don’t make this into something it isn’t.” “Well...I guess, but...I think your wrong. See you Saturday. Bye.” “Bye.” I hung up the phone and just sat there stunned. What had I done? What had I gotten myself into? Never had it occurred to me I could get that sort of reaction, and now I had. I didn’t know what to do. Oh well. He would get over it, right? He would sleep on it and, in the morning, he would realize how silly it was to even think such a thing. Don’t worry about it. Just a couple of dates and he would be gone, like all the rest. The problem was, I felt something different this time. I slept quite well, thinking about the events of the day. I had very little in my life to make me happy, but this was one that did. I knew I would talk to him again, and it would not be insulting or cruel. I felt something strange. I felt important. I picked Ceil up for school the next morning, like usual. We had a ritual on school days. I would arrive early to drive her to school, for Drivers Ed, and she would oversleep. It never failed, she would miss her class, and we would end up at McDonald’s for breakfast. When we finally got in the car she apologized, for not being completely honest about Pat, and what he was like. I told her it was OK, and quickly changed the subject. I simply could not bring myself to tell her I liked the change. It simply would not do at all. There was something different about this. All of the relationships before seemed tainted, and most of them were. I went out of my way not to share myself with anyone, just my body. Pat wasn’t like them though. With him I had to be a person first. I never had to do that before. We made our way to school, missed the class, and continued on like normal. The problem was, there was something that made me think about that one clumsy kiss, over and over. There was magic in Pat that had sparked something, and I wanted more. I spent the next two days trying to convince myself what I had with him was oral sex. Nothing more than a blowjob. There was no spark there. I was just excited about being with someone new. As hard as I tried to convince myself though, I knew it wasn’t true. Friday night was quite restless. I kept thinking about everything, from what to wear, to what subjects to talk about. Talking with guys was something new for me. The deepest conversation I had ever had with any guy, other than my brother, had been about condoms. That had consisted of plain or lubricated. My grandmother and I ate breakfast, talked about the cows, and how the chores had gone that morning. Somehow this talk was almost tradition with us. Mom would not be awake for hours yet, and if it didn’t involve food or money, my brother was not interested in it. She and I alone had this bond, and I will always treasure it. After the morning ritual had been completed, normally, the conversation would turn to either politics or the day’s headlines. She and I could talk for hours about these subjects and never fight. We never really fought about anything, just talked. That day was different though. She asked me about this boy I was going on the date with. I told her he seemed nice, but I really didn’t know him well. We chatted for a bit more, then started the rest of the day. I had house cleaning to do, and homework I had not finished yet. There were always plenty of things to do living on a farm, and if you didn’t get them done, then you had better not plan on eating either. “If the cows don’t eat, we don’t eat.” There were very few rules from my grandma, but the ones she had were immovable forces you simply couldn’t question. This was a rule you only test once. She meant what she said. End of conversation. I was being picked up at six. I showered and dried my hair. I decided slacks were the better choice, just in case we were going in the same car I had ridden in before. I put on a nice pair of jeans and a sweater, to ward off the November night breeze. I then chose a new pair of silver earrings, and went to work on the much needed makeup. I had gotten my period that afternoon, so sex was out. I was going to have to occupy the evening in some other way, and I had better look good to do it. When six o’clock arrived I was ready. When six ten arrived I was waiting. When six thirty arrived I was mad. There I was, on my first date with him, and he was late. Finally, a full hour late, I heard the car pull in. I waited for a knock at the door, and received a beeping car horn instead. This was not a good start at all. I grabbed my purse and headed out the door. At the very least I could still manage to get a movie out of it. I got in the back of the car with Pat. “What happened? You’re an hour late.” “Stuff.” What kind of reply was that? I asked why he was so late, and I got an answer like stuff! Maybe he was more like the others than I had originally thought. Oh well, you still can see a movie. There was very little conversation during the twenty-minute ride to the movie theater. The music was loud, and the car was louder. When we finally arrived, there was some discussion about what show to see. It was decided to see one that started in forty minutes. Denis and Ceil spent their time waiting making out. This left Pat and I in a very strange position. Finally he leaned over to kiss me, and I realized he was even less experienced than I suspected he was. After poking me in the eye with his nose, then starting his kiss at my chin, he finally found my mouth. A minute or so of a very clumsy kiss, and he turned away. He finally found the courage to try again, but while trying to kiss my neck, he swallowed my earring. “I am ssss ssss sssso ssss ssss ssssorry.” That is why he didn’t talk. The table at Ceil’s house, the phone conversation that night, everything. Now I knew what the problem was. He had a terrible stutter, and he was afraid I wouldn’t understand. He finally finished his apology, and was ready to get out of the car, to escape the embarrassment. I reached over, grabbed his arm, and gently turned him around toward me. “Let it happen. Don’t try and make it perfect, just let it be what it is. It will be fine.” I leaned over and kissed him softly. I stopped, closed my eyes, and leaned in again. This time it was wonderful. He gently brushed my lips, then pressed them against mine, waiting for them to willingly give way to him. He reached forward, curled his arm around my back, and gently held me as his tongue began to explore my mouth. It was not just a kiss, it was electric, and it was sincere. I will never forget that one kiss. We never did see the movie. We sat there in the car, and kissed. There was no sex, but there was no disappointment either. I had finally met a man who wanted something from me, and it was my heart. Now I had to find out if I could give it. We continued to date. We spent Christmas together, watched the snow slow its daily assault and give way to spring. I met some of his friends, and he met mine. We had fun together, and fell in love. He dropped out of school, but never stopped moving forward with his life. I knew he had a long road ahead. All I had to do was look at his past to see how long it was. His mother was an alcoholic, and could not function without him. He worked to keep her in food, and then he would deal with welfare to keep her in beer. His father died when he was barely a teen, and his brother left years before that. Life was a battle, but he never refused the challenge. I talked to him every day, and saw him almost as much. I started to rely on him and, I think, he did the same with me. Things at home were harder than ever for me. I stopped the drinking and the drugs, at Pat’s insistence, but the fights seemed to have a life of their own. Every day I saw my mother there was a fight, and every fight was a physical one. I hated to hear her voice, and she hated she couldn’t control me. After years of growing, and being grown up, mother suddenly decided she wanted to be the “mom”. It was too little, way too late. Every time she tried to tell me what to do, I hated her a little more. By the time I reached seventeen, things were at the breaking point. Pat took me out for dinner on my birthday, and we talked for hours. He still had his virginity intact, and I didn’t mind. We could make love without having sex. His eyes said volumes, his heart said more. Soul mates are what people later would call us, and they would be right. I told him, when the school year, ended I was going to move out. He didn’t seem surprised, but I don’t think he could understand either. I went so far to make it look like nothing was wrong. I hid my family’s dirty laundry and lied to keep it hidden. When the night was over, I returned home, and received another opportunity to fight. I avoided the temptation and went to my room, to hide. My bedroom was my world. There were no challenges, just me. Every inch was mine. I controlled my life in there. I started my plans that night. I didn’t know where I would go, or what would happen when I got there, but I knew it was time. I got boxes and packed my things. I made plans for school, and bought a car. It was decided I would move in with Pat, and his mother, so the money I earned at my job would go farther. Finally things were right. I could learn to live my life. The nightmares had not started, but were soon to come. Till then there were only pieces here and there, nothing connected. Denis and Ceil split up. Denis was the type who was either completely attached, or completely detached. When they split he was still attached, and it was too much for him. He took an overdose of pills, and washed them down with a lot of beer. His parents found him, and rushed him to the hospital. He was admitted to the psychiatric unit for attempted suicide. Ceil called, and I drove her, and Pat, to the hospital. Denis and I had not gotten close, but he was important to them. I waited in the activity room for them to finish their visit. There were several patients in the room with me, watching TV, or playing cards. There was one who caught my eye. He stood out. I knew him. I didn’t know how, or from where, but I knew him just the same. Maybe it was his eyes. He noticed me looking at him and started to walk toward me. He probably wanted to know why I was staring. He walked over and sat down next to me. “Hello. I haven’t seen you here before. Are you here to see someone?” “I am more of a ride than a visitor. A friend asked me to drive her. That’s all.” I got up from my chair and started to walk away. There was something about this man that scared me. I headed toward the door, to see if they were on their way yet, and I heard him calling after me. “Hey! Hey you! I didn’t get your name! You’re pretty rude to keep walking away when someone’s talking to you.” The voice. I know his voice. Something inside told me to run, but I didn’t listen. I kept walking toward the door, not looking back at him. There was something at the edge of my mind, but I couldn’t see what it was. I felt him grab my arm. I turned to look him in the eye. They were empty eyes. Lifeless eyes. His breath smelled like rotting meat. He was so close to me I could feel the words as he spoke. “Don’t cry.” He was there! The next thing I remember is sitting in the shower at home, crying, and rocking back and forth. That man had scarred my body, but the evil had wounded me deeper. It was the end of the torture, but the start of the pain of healing. I began by shutting down. That was the easy part. Then came remembering. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I also couldn’t stop it. I thought I was losing my mind. Maybe, in my own way, I was. For the first time I completely lost control. Pat stood by me. I told him things as I remembered them, and he would pretend he understood. Many people tried to help, but none of them asked what was wrong. Not like I would have told them anyhow. I acted a good part, and went on with my routine, and my plans. Then at night the battle was fought in nightmares. Nightmares so real it was difficult not to check for blood when they would end. The day finally came for me to move. I hadn’t told mother, but she found out anyhow. She tried to reason that it would never work. She told me I was still a child, and would end up back there all too soon. I knew I wasn’t ready to face the world, but I also knew I had to leave. When she decided I wasn’t going to listen to her version of how I was screwing up my life, she screamed at me that I couldn’t go. I had taken a lot of orders over the years, but this was one I would not. When it became clear both of these methods had failed to change my mind, she started to hit. She pinned me to my bed, and triggered the strongest memory I had yet. I fought, and she fought harder! We punched, and bit, and pulled hair. Then she grabbed something, off of my nightstand, and I saw that man over me! I threw her off of me, and stood up. I remember the look on her face. It was one of shock, not anger any more. She sat there on the floor for a minute, and then stood up. As she was leaving my room she turned, and simply said, “You will never leave.” When I finally stopped shaking I called Pat, and told him what had happened. He told me to sit tight; he was on his way. A short time later I saw a truck pull in. Pat brought his friend Rob with him, to help me move, and they were my heroes. I had the boxes ready. I knew while Pat and Rob moved the boxes, my job was to keep my mother from stopping them. Pat went out first, carrying a box, followed closely by Rob. I walked behind them both, and knew what was coming. As I got to the kitchen mom stood up and stopped in front of me. There we stood, toe-to-toe, eye-to-eye. There was no turning back. “Move,” I said, not blinking an eye. “I said you’re staying.” “Move out of the way. It’s time for this to end.” “No.” I moved forward, pushing her aside with my arm as I did. She gave a little, and then shoved me hard into the sink. She was ready for our last fight. My grandmother had never put up a fight in front of me. She always said, “she’s your mother, and I can’t change what she says.” Now I watched as she got up from the table and walked over to where we stood. She had a purposeful walk, and a somber expression. “It is done.” That was all she said, but my mother knew the meaning. She stood there a moment longer, then turned and left the room. “Go and make a good life.” Grandma looked so sad, and so proud. I love her dearly. Nothing could ever change how I feel, but that one act was the single bravest thing she had ever done for me. As the last of the boxes were loaded, and we got ready to leave, mom stood at the door hating everything about what was happening. Grandma looked out her bedroom window, waved goodbye to me, and smiled. I cried as we left. I had a lot of memories that were good, and I would miss my home, but I was excited to finally be moving forward. I have been asked several times since if I’m sorry I didn’t listen to my mother, and I have to answer no each and every time. I would not be the person I am if it weren’t for each of the things I have lived through. All in all, I think that would be the bigger loss. 2 We unloaded the truck at Pat’s house and headed inside. I was exhausted, but happy. I had love, peace, and a future, but it’s a good thing I couldn’t tell what the future held. The next few weeks were about working, cleaning, and trying not to upset Pat’s mother. She was a difficult person to deal with, but at least she didn’t hit. I would bide my time until Pat came home. She would usually be drunk enough by then she would go to bed, to cry over her long dead husband. There was something bizarre about the relationship we all had, but I was content with it while it lasted. I worked at a super market, stocking produce. I went to work every day, got paid once a week, smiled at the customers, and hated every minute of it. It was a job nonetheless. It wasn’t that I hated working. I hated being just a kid in their eyes. No one seemed to understand I was on my own. I was buying groceries with my pay, not new clothes and going to movies. Each day Pat’s mom, Alice, would be waiting. There was always something I hadn’t done, or had done wrong. It didn’t take long to realize, no matter what I did, it would never be enough. I learned to just apologize and go on with my business. As I cleaned I would hear I was taking advantage of her. While cooking the food I had purchased, it was the cost of feeding another mouth. When it came to laundry, it was the cost of soap, or how I folded the clothes. Nothing was good enough, ever. At the end of the day, Pat would come home, and things would change. Then I would hear about how hard Pat worked, how much he reminded her of her husband, and how I was using him. The tone would slowly change to, “why me,” and she would either retreat to her room, or scream at us all night. Once in a while Pat and I would find some time alone, and it all seemed easier. As hard as things were, I knew they could be worse. One morning I woke up to a raging thunderstorm. I had to work that day, so I got up to get ready and leave early. It was a long ride to the store, and there would most likely be trees and power lines down along the way. I dressed as quietly as possible, but it wasn’t quiet enough. I woke up Alice. She came into the bathroom and read me the riot act about the noise. I rinsed the toothpaste from my mouth and apologized for waking her. Considering the thunder rumbling outside, I doubted I was the noise she heard, but I didn’t want a fight at such and early hour. She muttered about how inconsiderate I was, and went to the living room. As I was getting the last of my things together she continued to tell me how I messed everything up. I never contributed anything. The house wouldn’t have to be sold if Pat didn’t have to take care of me. Comments such as that. Apparently I was the reason for everything wrong with her life, and there was nothing I could do to make up for her hardship. After about twenty minutes of her venting, Pat woke up. He came out and asked what the problem was. This immediately sent Alice off on a tangent about how I was so loud I woke her up, and when she asked me to quiet down I started a fight with her. She then told him it was still her house, and if I was going to be disrespectful, I could leave. I stood there dumbfounded. Finally I managed to find some words. “I don’t think that’s quite how things happened, but I’m sorry if I upset you.” I wanted to follow it with, “you lying bitch,” but I bit my tongue instead. Pat asked if he could drive me to work because he wanted to use the car. A couple minutes later we left. Alice was still going on as we left, but if we weren’t there, we didn’t have to listen. The weather was worse than I thought it would be. We tried for hours to find a way to the store. There were trees, and flooded roads, everywhere we went. Finally I decided minimum wage wasn’t worth my life, and we turned back. When I called my job, to them what we had been through, they fired me on the spot. I couldn’t see how the day could get any worse. Pat and I spent the day cleaning and sorting things. As hard as we had tried, two teenage kids could not afford to pay for a house, so it was being put up for sale. Alice pretended to help by going through old photos, and talking about the past. I was grateful she wasn’t in the way. Later that evening I made dinner, and heard how I was preparing the food wrong. I never realized how many ways there were to screw up any given meal until I met her. After dinner I cleared the table, put the dishes in hot water to soak, and went to fold some laundry. Within minutes Alice came out, and told me to leave. At first I didn’t understand, but then she made it very clear to me. She had been drinking more than usual, and was pretty upset about giving up the house. I knew she didn’t like me, but I never dreamed she could be so cruel. Pat argued with her, but she simply wouldn’t listen. Eventually she called the police. When they arrived she told them I was a freeloader, and she wanted me out, that night. They listened, and tried to talk reason, but she would have none of it. Finally they gave up and told me I had to leave. I put what I could in my car, kissed Pat, and left. I had nowhere to go, no money, no job, and I refused to go back home to mom. I wanted to be on my own, and now I really was. I lived out of my car for three months. I went to the gas station to brush my teeth and wash up. Once a week Pat would sneak me in to shower. I tried to get a job, but if you don’t have a phone, so they can call you, you can’t get a job. No home, no job. I made enough money to eat doing odd jobs, but there was nothing steady. What would have been my senior year started, and I wasn’t there. How could I afford school supplies if I couldn’t afford to eat every day? The days were hard, and the nights were horrible. The weather was getting colder and I started to wonder what I would do. Finally the house sold. Pat and I rented a little apartment together. It was a real dump. The roaches were the size of ponies, and the water only worked about three hours a day. It was home. We didn’t last long there. We couldn’t afford the hundred dollars a month rent. Pat made plans to live in a tiny studio apartment, and I made arrangements to live with a family I had done some work for. Right before we moved, my car died. I was slowly loosing what little I had to call my own. I moved in with Paul, and his family, and tried not to be in the way. I couldn’t afford to loose another place to live. Things seemed pretty good there. Pat stopped to see me every day, at first, but slowly it got to be less and less often. Denis was around a lot. He worked on his car in the garage out back. He and I would talk, and laugh over the little things in life. We got to be friends. From time to time he mentioned he would like to go out with me. I told him how sweet he was, but I had Pat, and he was enough for me. Then, one day, Pat stopped coming. Living in a small town news travels fast, and our town was no exception. I was told Pat had started dating someone else. At first I refused to believe it, but in time it became clear it was true. I was heartbroken. I cried on Denis’s shoulder, and he listened. I spent weeks hoping it wasn’t true, but there came a time when I accepted it was. Then one day Pat knocked on the door. I was elated to see him. We went outside to talk, and he started to tell me I was a slut. He heard I was sleeping with Denis, and said that is why he stopped coming around. I argued it wasn’t true, but he wouldn’t listen. I cried myself to sleep that night, and went on the next day. Denis continued to ask me out and eventually I said yes. I could see no reason not to. We went out for the first time on a cool November evening. We had dinner and saw a movie. After the movie we went back to his parents house, sat in front of the fire, and talked for hours. It was a nice evening. The following morning I received a phone call from Denis. He told me there had been a fire. His house was totally destroyed. I went to help, but there wasn’t much left in the rubble. They all moved to a hotel until they could find a place. The month passed slowly by, and we saw each other when we could. Thanksgiving came and I found out my aunt was visiting from Kentucky, and my mother would not be there. I asked if I could come for dinner, and my grandmother said yes. I had a wonderful day. I ate well and enjoyed visiting with everyone. As the evening grew late I called for a ride home, but was told I was no longer welcome. Denis’s parents heard I was going for a visit, and called the family I was living with. They convinced them if I had to stay with my family, we would work things out. I told my grandmother what happened and she agreed to hide me for the night. I stayed in my brother’s room, and early the next morning, they drove me to the hotel Denis was staying at. My mother never knew I was there. Denis said he knew someone who might put me up. All I had left in the world was a portable radio and twenty dollars. I said a quick prayer, and told him to introduce me to his friend.
Copyright © 2003 Sylvia Browne |