Questions without words – always there, always haunting. His mother murdered in prison when he was five; the loss of his grandmother to cancer two years later. Then his grandfather, killed in a car accident when he was eight. Killed by a drunk driver. A drunk like his dad – should have killed his father, a grandfather should never have to die like that.
His grandparents raised him from the age of two; they were gone, lost forever. Gone, the evenings at the sweat lodge, trips to Pow Wows and stomp dances. Gone, the bedtimes when the legends of his ancestors came alive, ancestors who had conquered and still watched over the living. No more stories of Mother Earth caring for her charge. No more myths of spirits leading and guiding – myths his grandfather never doubted were the true reality. Grandfather, I need you. I need your comfort, your touch. Don’t leave me alone.
After the death of his grandfather, Steven lived mainly with his father. Life with his father was unpredictable, and often dangerous. When drinking, his dad would beat him for any and all infractions, finding any excuse to exert power and authority over his child, declaring he was in charge and demanding his son’s respect. When not drinking, he would disappear into his bedroom, brooding, hiding, refusing to live. Countless times Steven went to bed having had only water to drink for the entire day. He started going in and out of hospitals at the age of ten. The psyche ward of St. Jimmies became a second home – somewhere peaceful, nurturing, safe.
Grandfather, where are you? I need you, need your touch, to know you’re here, know you’ve not given up on me. Always the outcast. Wherever I go, that’s what I am, nothin’ but a damn outcast. Stop the arrows, stop the pain, the loneliness. Eff it all. Lost. Lost. Lost.
How long had he been in the Monster’s Hole? A few minutes or a few hours? Time stopped, a peace and stillness embraced him; he felt weightless, heavy tethers severed. An arm slipped around his shoulders and he felt the hardened skin of a warrior’s face on his cheek; the face of one brave and wise, one tested and strengthened by time. Steven whispered, “Grandfather, why did you leave? You shouldn’t have died. You should not have left me. I’m lost now. I’m lost.” His grandfather stood and reached out his hand. Steven rose and took his grandfather’s hand and looked him in the eyes. “Help me. Please.”
Grandfather stood silent, but his eyes burned deep into Steven’s wounded soul. He knew the words his grandfather wanted him to embrace. “Courage young warrior, strength is yours. The tribe knows no outcast. The Little People, they always find their lost children. They are always there to help you.”
A few minutes or a few hours? A dream? Did grandfather come to comfort him? “Courage. Strength. Running Fox. Running Fox. My Indian name, given by my grandfather. Running Fox is who I am.” Steven smiled, then laughed. He filled his lungs and let out a high-pitched war cry. He ignored the bellows of laughter as he emerged from the Monster’s Hole and joined the others already sitting at the dining tables.
***
“God, I love the fall. Nothing like the autumn trees. Nothing like the crisp cool air biting at your cheeks. And here we are, stuck in here. No Halloween parties this year.” Joe said to Maddie as they walked around the perimeter of the courtyard. Both had their hands stuffed in their jackets. This was the first time they’d spent together without Steven running circles around them, blurting out every random thought that entered his brain; he was suffering the consequences of his outburst during last night’s visitation. Joe wanted to enjoy these uninterrupted moments he had with Maddie. He nudged her. “Don’t you love fall?”
“Sure.”
Sure? That response lacked conviction and sincerity. How can any reasonable and thoughtful human not love autumn in the Ozarks? Joe glanced at her; he felt an urge, a need to know more – no, not allowed. To pry into her life would give her permission to ask him personal questions, permission for her to meddle in his life. All their bantering at meal times, at the gym, their walks in the courtyard, had always remained superficial, insincere. The focus was on other kids; sizing them up, creating elaborate stories about how each one had ended up in the psyche ward at St. James, imagining the deep and dark secrets that were destroying these unfortunate kids’ lives. More recently, they began enacting imagined scenes from their peers’ therapy sessions, taking turns playing the patient and the therapist. Of course, they never dared talk about their secrets, about what went on with their therapist in the sacred office of confidentiality. Perhaps Maddie would have shared about her life; why she cut, why she was depressed, suffering, struggling, damaged. She probably wanted to talk about her life, her family, expose the secrets that flawed and hapless parents desperately seek to hide. At times, Joe sensed she was about to peel back the sacred façade that protects and shields and hides; that’s when he would point toward another patient and create another fictitious problem, which would thoroughly divert them from the reality of their own worlds, their own secrets, and would keep him safe.
Dismissing his urge to pry, Joe motioned across the courtyard and said, “Over there. That new kid, Dylan. Bet he’s into ICP, a jugalo. Paints a clown face on himself when he goes to bed. I bet …
“Joe. Why’d you want to … you know, die? I’ve thought about it sometimes. But …but I never tried. Never wanted to try. I’ve never wanted to die. Did you really want to die?”
Joe felt his stomach tighten. Screw this. Speed up, leave her behind. She can’t ask that question. His words came out with distinct meanness. “Well, why do you cut? Isn’t that like kind’a wanting to die? Seems to me you want to die.” No. Don’t treat her like that. You idiot.
“No. It’s not like that. It’s just not.” She paused leaving an awkward moment of nothing. Joe knew his tone had hurt her. He knew he should apologize, say something; nothing would come out of his mouth. She finally spoke, ending that forever moment. “I am sorry. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I shouldn’t ask. It was stupid of me.”
Tears. Tears wanted to come. Damn tears. Joe wanted to turn and run, run fast and furious, run into oblivion. She wouldn’t understand, no one would understand. He didn’t want to die – he had to die. Oh, he’d done what he had to do, and was glad he did it – at the time. But choices and actions, even those assumed to be noble and right, inevitably give birth to an altered future. Evil choices and actions demand negative and harsh consequences. What did his English Lit teacher call it? Karma. Yes Karma. His life was now a Greek tragedy, where one grave choice gives birth to a course of events that must end in unrelenting sorrow. No one would understand this, no one. He bit his lower lip and pulled his hands out of his pockets, wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed his forearms. “Damn, it’s getting cold. You ready to go in?”
She nodded and they turned and walked toward the door. As they neared the building, she grabbed his arm and squeezed, a gentle and caring grasp. “You’re afraid aren’t you? To get close, to open up. To be real. That’s okay, I guess. But you know, it is safe.”
Tears welling up again. That can’t happen, not allowed. He quickly pulled his sleeve across his face and glanced at her. What would it be like to hug her? A nice warm embrace that would last for … for hours. What would it be like to touch her, kiss her? Safe. It’s safe. Let her in. No, she’s wrong, nothing’s safe. “This just isn’t the place to get involved, make friends. You know what I mean? We’re friends, but only sort of. Does that make any sense? When we leave this god-awful place, we shouldn’t … we just have to leave our problems here. I don’t want to take any of this home. It’s like … we’ll leave this place and that’s it and I’ll never see any of these … these people again.”
Maddie stopped, grabbed Joe’s arm and swung him around. “You mean these crazy people? These lunatics?” She put her face close to his. “I guess that’s how you see me. Just one of the loonies. Another off her rocker, wacko, crazy, out of her head, lunatic.” She turned and started walking off. “Well, how awfully kind of you to be so nice to me. How humble of you to mix with such a crazy psycho
like me. Why don’t you just … just go to hell? You’d probably feel nice and safe there.”
Joe caught up with her and reached for her shoulder. She pulled away. He said, “No. Don’t. It’s not like that. I don’t mean that you’re … Geez, this just isn’t the place to … to make friends, or anything else. ”
Joe could see a lone tear slipping out the corner of her right eye. Maddie quickly wiped the tear away and with seething but controlled anger said, “Why? Anywhere is a good place to find a friend. You just might miss out if you just keep pushing people away … pushing them away because you decided it’s not the right time or place, or the right sort of people. Or that you’re just too good for anybody else. Thanks a lot. Thanks a lot. Just get away from me.” Miss Linda opened the door and she hurried through, leaving Joe three steps behind.
Joe caught up and jumped in front of her. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just not ready to … oh hell. I don’t know what I mean. Being in here I … Heck. I am scared. I don’t know why, but I’m just scared. I don’t even know what I’m scared about.”
Maddie leaned toward him and whispered in his ear. “We’re all scared Joe. That’s why we’re here, we’re all scared to death. Scared to live, scared to be. We’re all scared senseless. Might as well be scared together.”
***
“I just don’t understand this … this cutting. I can’t believe you’ve been doing it for more than year and we never knew. Madeline, honey, I feel so bad. You needed help and I didn’t know. I should have known. How did I miss it? And why? Why the cutting? How can you do that to yourself?” Maddie’s mom, Judith and her father, Howard, sat across from Maddie in her therapist’s office. Maddie glanced up and shook her head. Judith held her father’s hand. Maddie looked back down at her shoes; still without shoelaces – doctor’s order, make sure she’s safe, that other kids are safe. How could you hang yourself with a shoestring anyway? Stupid rules, stupid rules. She glanced up again, tears filled both her parents’ eyes – their eyes, they looked lost and confused; parents should never look lost and should never be confused. Guilt and shame gutted Maddie’s soul and twisted her inner being. She looked at her therapist begging for a lifeline, a clue, anything. Isn’t time up yet? I gotta get out of here. Just say something, you’re the therapist.
“Maddie?” Her therapist, Angie, said as she leaned forward in her chair. “These are important questions. Help your parents understand … understand what you’re going through and the why.”
The why? That’s not fair. I’m not ready to talk about that. Not ready. Maddie shifted in her chair. Her left leg started to move up and down, faster and faster. She glanced up but quickly looked back down at her lace-less shoes. She knew her therapist was pushing her, giving her the opportunity for the revelation, the declaration of the secret that she had thought was safe and harmless, but a secret that had been cunningly at work undermining her sense of worth, her sense of selfhood. In their last session, Angie brushed Maddie’s bangs to the side and tucked them behind her ear. She put her hand on Maddie’s shoulder and, in a whisper, said, “It’s time to let go of the secrets, Maddie. You have to. And if you don’t, I’ll have to tell them. I think it’s better coming from you. They need to understand why you cut. They have to know what happened. It will have to be dealt with.”
Maddie’s right leg began to move up and down.
Angie said, “Do you want me to …”
Maddie’s words came out quickly, with a growing quiver. “No. It’s hard. I don’t’ know. I cut because it gets the pain out, the emotions, it just helps. It’s like a release, watching the blood come out. It’s like my emotions are being let out, escaping. It just makes feel better. But I’ve realized … I see that … well one reason I cut, it’s because I feel that’s what I deserve.”
“What you deserve? How could you possibly think you deserve such a thing?” Her father said as he wiped a tear just beginning to slip down his left cheek.
“You’re gonna hate me. I can’t talk about it. I thought I was ready. I’m not. I can’t. I’m sorry. Miss Angie, I can’t. I need to go. Can I go now?”
“It’s okay, honey. There is nothing you can say that would alter our love for you. Absolutely nothing could make us hate you, for goodness sake.” Judith got up, kneeled on the floor and put her arm around Maddie. She caressed her hair and said, “Nothing can and never will change our love for you and our belief in you.”
“Uncle Billy molested me. Raped me. Raped me again and again.”
CHAPTER SIX
“This is your time Joe-boy. What do you want to talk about?” Braxton was cleaning his reading glasses, looking straight into Joe’s eyes.
“I suppose I should apologize.”
“For what?”
“God. You know for what. Cussing you out the other day. Sorry. Sorry I lost it.”
“That’s okay. I’ve heard worse. You can be sorry for telling me to screw myself, but don’t be sorry for losing it, for having some emotion. Emotion. Good for you. Cursing, you can work on that. I hit a nerve though. Want to talk about it?”
Joe stood up and stared out the window. Those adults, meandering around the court yard, in slow motion; mechanical in the way their feet move, taking half steps, steps that try so hard to show determination, but steps that take them nowhere. “They sure drug those people up don’t they?” Joe laughed and pointed “Oh my God! Look at that! A heavyset woman was running in circles repeatedly lifting her shirt up exposing a braless breast.
“Come on Joe, sit down. This isn’t about them. It’s about you. Do you want to talk about it?”
“My mom?”
“Yeah. How’s she doing in all this?”
Joe turned and sat in the nicely cushioned love seat. He felt his body sink and imagined it swallowing him up completely, disappearing into an eternity of comfort. “What do you think? Heck. Look what I put her through. I nearly killed her.”
“Guilt?”
“Yeah. Lots of guilt.”
“That’s okay. That can be dealt with. Tell me about your mom.”
Joe stretched his legs out and slid down as far as possible without landing on the floor. He put a cushion behind his head, leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “There’s stains on your ceiling. You should get that fixed. Needs to be painted over.” He took a breath. “She’s what a mom’s supposed to be. She’s there. She cares. Takes good care of us. Strong. She was always strong. Never cried after dad left. Never. Capable. She could do anything. She was always strong.”
“Was?”
“Was? Yeah, was. Things changed. About two years ago. She met a guy. I thought that might be good. She hadn’t had anyone since … you know, dad left. I wasn’t going to like any guy she brought around, but I thought maybe that’d be a good thing for her. You know, make her happy.”
“Not gonna have a happy ending, is it?”
“They dated a while before we met him. He was okay. Nice guy. After six months, he kind of moved in. There most of the week. And he was really good to us. Took us lots of places, got stuff for us, like he really cared. He even spent time with us, me and Chuck, helped us with our football, training us up a bit, pushing us hard. Then Chuck went off to college and it was good to have someone like that, being kind’a like dad to me. And … then they got married. For a while it was cool, good. Nice, a … a nice sort of guy. Looking back, it was like, too nice.”
“A charmer. A real nice charmer. Yeah, those are the ones you have to be wary of.”
“You’re telling me. After a few months, the fights started. Always in the bedroom, between mom and him. They got louder. Came more often. Then he started drinking, probably already was but hid it. And the drinking got worse … and worse.” Joe chest tightened, he paused and took a few quick breaths.
Braxton leaned forward. “Joe. I’m sorry.”
“You know where this going, don’t you? He got mean. Got violent. Pushing mom. Then started hitting her. He nearly hit me a
few times, but stopped himself. But then … the bastard hit my sister. Knocked her out. Flippin’ knocked her out. Sent her to the goddamn hospital. CPS got called. Some social worker came out and investigated. Of course, he lied about it and … and mom backed him up. She backed him up.” Joe bit his lower lip and shook his head slightly. “And then … well, he apologizes to us. Oh, he was so so sorry. ‘This will never happen again. I’ve stopped drinking. I don’t know what happened to me. I’m really not that kind of person.’ All that bullshit. Mom was… she wanted to … it makes me so angry, she gave him another chance. And then another chance, and another.” Joe pulled himself up further onto the loveseat. “It’s like she had to have him, I … I guess because it was the first guy who cared about her, since dad got off his ass and left us.”
“Bad love’s better than no love. Hard to understand that, but it’s too often true.”
“I … we ran him off. Chuck and me. Mom was gone to her sister’s one weekend, with Amber. We cornered him. Got into it, telling him what we thought of him. Then … we beat the crap out of him and chased him off, chased him with baseball bats. And we … I … I …” Joe stopped and closed his eyes. Careful. Careful. Like we practiced. No more that than that. “I threatened to kill him if he ever came back. I tell you, that was a promise not a threat. He got into his car and disappeared. We packed all his clothes and other junk and threw everything into the lake. When mom came home, we told her he’d just left her. Went back to Texas, where his family was supposed to be. Well, he’s never come back. Never even heard from him. And that’s it.” Joe got up and walked to the window and stared at the distant landscape. “Mom has never been the same, not since he started abusing her … us. I blame that goddamn bastard. And … I blame myself.”
“Why? Blame yourself for what? For running the bastard off?”
Joe turned around and glared at Braxton. “You ask flippin’ dumb questions, don’t ya? Can I go back now?” Emotions rumbled in Joe’s gut – feelings that had no business existing. He drew in his breath slowly and held it; tame them, kill them, ignore them – emotions have no purpose. He exhaled and took a step toward the door.
Life So Perfect Page 3
