by Sasha Hibbs
“Daddy,” I choked out. “Those things I said … I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to hurt you, hurt Mom.”
“Shh,” he said, a sad smile tugging at his lips as he leaned over the table and wiped a tear from my eye. “You were only saying what your mother and I have known all along, but we went along in silence. She’s never had the chance to heal and has tried through alcohol to do it. I’ve never forgiven myself for the hard life your mother had and so I worked and worked and worked, buying things like they were bandages, but our wounds needed more than cash to heal them. I see now, this isn’t the way. Your mother and I have never confronted the evils of our past to move on in a healthy way. I knew your mother drank, had often suspected it was a hereditary trait from her worthless father, but after all she’d went through, I didn’t have it in me to deny her anything, even if she were on a self-destructive path. I realize now that I was wrong. I won’t tell you what it was like for me, sitting in a maximum-security prison, but I’ll tell you that I made a promise to myself. I swore if I ever got out, I’d make up all the time I lost, would make sure my family had all the nice things in life they’d been robbed of. I’ve given much and at the same time, so little.”
“Don’t say that, Dad. You’ve given us everything. I love you.”
“Your mother and I talked all night last night. We opened up about the past, about our hopes for a different future. Part of overcoming a problem is admitting you have one. She has agreed to go into rehab. And I’ve agreed to be the father and husband I should’ve been all along.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Nothing could’ve prepared me for the last twenty-four hours of my life. I hadn’t set out with Mickey on his birthday to ultimately discover the source of his demons. I hadn’t meant to hurt my parents and plunge them back into the deep dark waters of a well they’d spent seventeen years trying to climb out of. I’d resented my parents—my mom especially—for the façade that was our lives as Chamberlains, but as I rode back to our house with my dad, the dawning truth that some walls are meant to be left up, some secrets kept hidden, surrounded me. The only regret that remained was I was the one, in the end, who misjudged them all. I’d berated my parents, silently seething until my explosive behavior hours ago, on their prejudices, their misconceptions, their inability to see past someone’s wealth or lack of. That hadn’t been what fueled their fire all these years. It was the long-buried pain of their past, the crimes committed against my mother and the poverty that accompanied it that paved them into the life we currently led. I understood now. It hurt that my mother was an alcoholic. I wanted her to be clean, healthy, but as long as I lived I never wanted to hear her harrowing tale again. It was too painful to conceive such horrors could be committed against someone. And while it hurt me to empathize because I’d resented her for so long, my entire perception was different. I could see now why my mother tried to cover the anguish of her past with alcohol, parties at the Country Club, and money. She was trying to make a past wrong right, and she’d simply gone about it the wrong way.
Once we pulled into our driveway and Dad shut the car off, I turned in my seat sideways. “When will Mom leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
“There’s a really nice center an hour away from here—in Morgantown—where we can go visit her. She’ll be there for three weeks, and if the program goes well, she’ll come home then. This is going to be a lifelong battle, though,” Dad said with a sad smile.
I reached over and held his hand in mine. “We’ll do it together. She’ll have you and me.”
“Rehab is only one part of it, Autumn. I want us all to go to family counseling. How would you feel about that?”
After the morning I had with my dad, there was no way I could turn him down. And I didn’t want to. It pained me that such sadness brought about what our family finally needed. To be together. If they were willing to take even one step, I would run a marathon for them.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Dad.”
My dad gave me a hopeful smile. “So, this boy of yours.” He tried to school his voice. “He’s not someone who’s going to go away anytime soon, is he?”
It was my turn to give him a sad smile. It was time to lay all the truth out. I owed my dad that much after the painful confession he’d made to me.
“Daddy, I love Mickey. It’s not something that happened over night, but over the course of several weeks. I know you don’t like him—”
“In all fairness, Autumn, I’m your father. It’s my job to protect you and after—”
I cut him off gently. “I know, I know,” I said thinking back to my parents finding me and Mickey the way they did. “I also know by default as your daughter, you are going to be partial to me. But, Dad, I am completely responsible. I knew what I was doing, and I took his innocence too.”
“Okay,” Dad said with a slight cringe. It was hard for me to say, and I knew it was hard for him to hear. “A father can always hope. And I want to make sure that you’re protected. Autumn, you’re only seventeen. The last thing you need is a baby.”
“We used protection, Dad,” I said a bit uncomfortably. This was an awkward conversation to have with my father, but I had to reassure him.
This led to me telling my dad about how I came to love Mickey. I believed after what the both of us went through, he could understand. As a father, perhaps he couldn’t, but he at least deserved the whole truth. To his credit when I told him about Mickey’s illegal fighting, the gambling involved, the death of his father and the obligation to his family that it led to, he never said a word. He simply sat silently listening to and absorbing what I confessed to him. At the end of my long admission he only said, “I see.”
I went on to tell him about Leo, the upcoming match that Mickey would get hurt in if he went through with it. I told my dad why this fight in particular meant everything to Mickey. I told him about Principal Oliverio being Mickey’s uncle as well as Mr. Romano. That led to the story of his mother, her being cut from their mother’s will, the poverty they endured in the face of Mickey’s father’s death. I told my dad what Mickey had done for Dakota, his honorable intentions toward his mother and brother, his devotion as a friend. We talked about what happened to Sean, to Jay, how sad my parents actually felt about their situation.
“That’s an awful heavy burden for an eighteen-year-old to carry,” Dad said at the end of my long tale.
“When you asked if Mickey was something that would go away,” I gave a halfhearted laugh. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry for too long.”
“Autumn, please don’t misunderstand me. You are my only child. I want the best for you. After listening to you, I get it. I can see where the both of you were drawn to each other. I recognized something of myself in him. I can admire that. But I will never tolerate someone hurting my baby girl. If he is as you say, I give my consent for you to see each other. But I expect you two to go about it the right way. Do you understand me?”
My heart swelled with love for my dad. As I looked at him, it occurred to me that this experience seemed to humanize him. At least we could talk and understand each other on the same level.
“I do,” I answered. “But I have to do something that Mickey will never forgive me for.”
“What is it you intend to do?”
“Just as you saved Mom, I’m going to save him.”
Chapter Forty-Three
I had several difficult tasks ahead of me. I called Mickey, telling him I’d snuck away long enough to call. I felt a stab of guilt and pain lying to him, telling him that we weren’t allowed to see each other. It wasn’t true. I told him not to text me that I would be at his fight against Leo Friday no matter what happened. That I would find a way, and then in another week we would graduate and then we could be together. To some degree, that was true. I would be at his fight, we would graduate in one week, but us being together depended entirely on him, how he would react. Would he see in the end that I
was a fighter like him, or a traitor? While my parents believed it impossible that anyone existed good enough for their little girl, we’d made up for lost time as a family. I lied because it would be too painful to see him, to have that carrot dangle in front of me. I knew if I let Mickey back in, I wouldn’t have the strength to do what needed done.
My mom waited until I got home from school Monday before leaving for rehab. Dad and I drove her there. I expected so many awkward silences, there was still so much that lay between my mom and I, but we fell into a peaceful place with each other. It wasn’t a painful journey for us. I’d learned guilt, silences, and resentments weighed me down, dragging me so far it was a burden to breathe after a while. The funny thing was once I cut those malignancies out of my life, I felt the constriction around my heart lesson, the weight on my shoulders lift. I felt so much lighter.
“Your father will come and pick me up for your graduation. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. But I can’t stay. We’ll have to celebrate once I see this thing through,” Mom said with a look of optimism.
“I’m so proud of you, Mom,” I said.
“You save that for when I actually finish,” she said, a stoic smile hiding what she really felt. She was scared and we both had that in common. A fear of the unknown.
After signing several consents, Dad hugged Mom for several seconds. Upon reflection, I had no memories of them ever being apart this long. There were times Dad had to work out of town for a few days at a time, but never had they been apart for this length of time to my knowledge aside from Dad’s long harbored confession of being in prison. If they had the same thoughts I did, it had to make this all that more painful. But it was a good kind of pain, the kind that would strengthen their bond. The love had been there the entire time, and as I watched them embrace, I wondered how I had never seen it before.
As Dad and I walked through the sliding glass doors I stopped.
“Hold on, Dad. Give me two seconds.”
I ran back to Mom and threw my arms around her. She held me tight, whispering into my ear, “My sweet baby girl. How I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
****
“Will you give these to Mickey after Friday?”
Arching a questioning brow, Dakota took the box from me. “Why don’t you give this to him yourself?”
“I want him to have something to remind him of who he is.”
“You still didn’t answer my question,” Dakota said, lifting the top off the box. He pulled out the new red boxing gloves I bought for Mickey. Examining them, he held up the left glove and read the black stitching. “Float like a butterfly,” he said, turning to the right glove. “Sting like a bee.”
“You know I can’t see him yet. Please promise me to give those to him after his fight,” I said, trying hard to remain composed. This was so hard on me.
“Afraid he’s going to lose and will need a pick me up?”
“Something like that.”
****
Thursday was the seniors’ last day of school. It was so odd to me that we went to school for the majority of our lives, and in the final moments—ones we’d counted down to forever—it seemed all too soon. I turned in all my books, locker combination so it could be reset for the next year’s nervous senior, and took one last sweeping glance of the school I’d attended for the last four years.
I would make one last journey here next Saturday for graduation where I would have to give a speech in front of the entire student body, faculty, and parents. I had a feeling of sadness creep over me. I had looked forward to this day for so long. Looked forward to jumping this hurdle so I could leap to the next one. But now, staring down the hallways, what I was leaving behind terrified me.
As I turned around to leave, I stopped dead in my tracks. Inches in front of me I was staring down my biggest fear. Mickey.
“What are you doing here?”
“I needed to make sure you were okay after … everything,” Mickey said while so many emotions played across his face.
I hid my emotions behind a smile. “I’m okay. Really. Are you?”
“Aside from my mom slapping me upside the head a couple of times, I couldn’t be better. I just needed to see you.”
I caved. I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me. I didn’t want to be reminded of his touch, the faint smell of spicy cologne on his neck, the feel of his hair tickling my ear lobe. But most of all, I didn’t want to hear how much he loved me, how he couldn’t wait for us to be together, what it meant to him that in the next few weeks all his ambitions and dreams would come true.
I wanted to tell him about what happened to my parents. That they were not the people I thought them to be. That they were so much greater, so much better than I deserved. I wanted to tell him that I misjudged so many things about my life. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to hold him, cling on to him forever. But I couldn’t do any of those things, because I had to save him. Instead, I gently broke away, took his hands in mine and examined the welted flesh around his knuckles. He would have scars from where he battled his demons. As I gazed down at those hands that had made such gentle love to me, all I could say was, “Make sure you wrap these up before your fight tomorrow night.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Mary was an immense support in Mom’s absence. Dad told her several times she didn’t have to stay late or do the extra things around the house she did. But Mary loved us. She never expressed her happiness at Mom’s decision, but I frequently saw a look of relief and contentment on her face since Mom went into rehab. I suspected she secretly wished for this all along. Mary knew this was the wall my mom needed to hit, that it would eventually build her back up again, and that our family would finally be whole.
I’d been dreading meeting with Cecelia and her two brothers, but it was a decision I made while holding Mickey in the aftermath of our love. It was in that moment, the one where we gave ourselves over to each other, that I decided I had to show him another way. All those past weeks of me trying to tell him he could do better for himself fell on deaf ears. He wouldn’t listen to me. But there were others who he might listen to. If only I could bring them all together. I had to unite them. This was going to be my last ride, the last lie that would cross my lips. I’d been ashamed of myself for lying all these weeks, but this time it was for the greater good.
Dad pulled some strings and found out Cecelia would be working at the Country Club Friday. I took the opportunity to call her there so as not to raise Mickey’s suspicions. I also knew that Principal Oliverio and Mr. Romano would still be at school. The under classmen were not finished yet, and with the school year coming to an end, Mickey’s uncles would be there tying up loose ends of the school year. I had to time this correctly or risk my plan foiling. I had an hour to make things happen.
“Cecelia?”
“Yes?” she said, not recognizing my voice.
“This is Autumn. There’s been an accident,” I said.
There were several seconds of silence on the other end before she said, “Oh, my God … Is Mickey okay? Where is he?”
“Yes. He’s fine, but you need to come to the school. I’ll be outside waiting for you.”
“What happened? Autumn, tell me.”
“I promise he’s okay, but you need to come—” I hung the phone up pretending I dropped the call.
I knew she would arrive in the next ten minutes. I got out of my car and walked down to the school. I slipped through the doors and walked down the hallway past Mr. Romano’s class. I was quiet, hoping to go unnoticed. I caught a glimpse of him sitting at his desk, grading what I imagined to be final papers. I quickly made my way to Principal Oliverio’s office. His door was slightly ajar and I could hear his voice. As I pushed the door open, he glanced at me while talking on the phone with a quizzical brow. He finished his call and straightened up in his chair.
“Autumn,” he began slowly. “I haven’t seen my sister
in years and just now I received a frantic call from her telling me Mickey has been in an accident and that she is on her way here. Would you care to fill me in on what’s going on?”
“That’s what I came to do,” I said, clasping my hands together, telling myself I could do this. “There’s some things all of you need to know, but I knew Cecelia wouldn’t come unless she truly believed Mickey was in trouble.”
“And is he?” he asked, tapping his fingers against his smooth desk.
“Yes, you could say that.”
“What’s happened?” he asked, growing pale.
“I’m going to meet Cecelia outside and show her to Mr. Romano’s room. Meet us there and I will tell you everything,” I said, not giving him room for another question.
I ran outside in time to see Cecelia park haphazardly in front of the school. She jumped out of her car and as soon as her gaze met mine, I could see the fear that only a mother reserved in her eyes. She ran down to me and I drew even breaths, telling myself I could do what needed to be done.
“Where is he?” she asked, out of breath.
“This way,” I said, leading her to Mr. Romano’s room.
I heard her frantic breathing behind me come to a complete halt the moment we entered Mr. Romano’s classroom. Mr. Romano stood behind his desk and Principal Oliverio was standing off to the side. I looked over my shoulder at Cecelia. She was scanning the room for Mickey. Once she realized he wasn’t in there, she looked at me with obvious confusion.
