Learning to Cry

by Christopher C. Payne

  I am not sure my ex-wife really ever understood the dynamics of having a rebellious teenager. Damn, I didn’t understand it most of the time, as well. Experimentation is one thing, putting yourself in danger for no good reason, never makes any sense. I guess that is why they are teenagers. All you can do is cross your fingers and hope they make it out unscathed. It sounds so trivial to say at this point. I question myself, I question Cheryl. Is she to blame, am I at fault, are both of us or neither of us? I keep asking these questions over and over in my head. It feels, at times, the words beating against my skull will explode with atomic force. Not even my sleep is restful anymore.

  The plan was to gather our three children together, and I would meet them all at the house. We were to sit down as a team and present to them our plan for splitting up and getting a divorce. We still both loved the children, but we would not be doing so as a married couple. Our marriage was over, and our family as a single unit was not to be. We had discussed this several times, we rehearsed what to say, and we had a plan. Plans are only as good as the paper they are written on. Paper today just isn’t of the same quality as it was a few years ago.

  When I arrived they were watching “Friends” in what was now my old bedroom. I entered the room and asked if we were ready to talk. The girls were all excited to see me, jumping up and down yelling, “Daddy, we missed you!”

  I asked my bitter historical partner if she were ready, and her response has been burned into my memory for all eternity. “This is your show, say what you want,” she muttered and went back to watching “Friends.”

  I realize she was bitter. We were both bitter. I think she blamed me for what was happening and maybe rightfully so. Still, I will never be able to forgive her for that night and how it affected the kids.

  I have moved on, but to this day, that is a moment in my life that stirs up anger inside me every time I think of it. I talked to the kids while she watched TV. She finally did inject some comments, but by then the kids were all crying, and Melissa had left the room. I didn’t see Melissa again for a few months. She shut down after that. Refused to see me and refused to acknowledge the change in her life.

  Timing in life is everything. An old friend of mine (I didn’t get many friends in the divorce) once told me the reason he didn’t like professional basketball is all the games come down to the last few seconds. The first three quarters plus most of the fourth quarter is meaningless -- unless it is a blowout, which is not a regular occurrence in the NBA. The last few seconds are all that matters. Whoever has the ball, whoever makes that last shot, whoever chokes and misses the last shot. It is all about timing.

  Had I known at that moment what Melissa was experimenting with just a few days before maybe I could have adjusted the announcement to a different day. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe the reason she was finally trying drugs was she anticipated what was happening. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I guess second guessing helps very little. I do know with the news she received and her recent initiation into the drug scene, she opened up willingly, accepting any risk that came her way. I don’t think she lost her ability to care, but she did find a new drive for taking chances.

  The hardest thing for me was not being there for her. I didn’t have the answers then, and I still don’t have them now. Should I have forced her to see me? Should I have pushed the issue? Cheryl blamed me for everything at that point. She influenced the girls to blame me, as well. At one point, she actually told them she had asked me to come home, and I had refused. Maybe I was to blame. My ex-wife would have been willing to ride it out no matter how unhappy we were. Was I at fault or was I to be thanked for liberating both of us from years of misery?

  Another friend of mine at the time was very cut and dry. He, as a Catholic, feels that once you are married, you stick it out. You made your choice so you live with it until you die. I am just not convinced. I was 24 when Cheryl and I met. I was 26 when we got married. I was 27 when we had our first child. Did I need to take responsibility for my actions? Yes, I did. Did I need to live in depressed sadness until I was dead? That part has me a little stumped.

  Ironically, that same friend has a wife who does not love him. She wants desperately to leave him but cannot, strictly because of their financial situation. Theirs is a doomed marriage. It is only a matter of time. I do not wish divorce on anyone. I would not want anyone to go through the suffering my children did during that hate-filled process. But I can say how much happier I now am. How much better I feel about myself. I was able to be a better father because of the change in my mental state, and I will always have the divorce to thank for that. You can never be a healthy, loving parent when you spend every minute hating the person lying next to you.

  I am just unsure of how much harm I have caused and if the damage to my children is irreparable. We all have to live with our decisions, and I will be living with mine forever. Sadly, for the next several months I lived without my oldest daughter, as well. She didn’t budge, and her summer was filled with trials of sadness. Again, if only I had known. If only I had been aware of what was about to occur.

  Maybe I have figured out what hell really is. Maybe hell is nothing more than the self-inflicted punishment we dole out to ourselves. Does anyone judge you more harshly than you judge yourself? I don’t think so, but then again. ……At this point I feel my punishment is deserved.

  Graduation and Summer

  Father

  Graduation. Both Amelia and Melissa were graduating, yet their mental states were drastically different. Amelia was excited to have me at her ceremony while Melissa didn’t really speak with me. It is tough fighting through the dynamics of a divorce. I was getting settled in my apartment in Pacifica, starting to collect some furnishings. Everything came from Craig’s List. It is the only way to shop. Still day-to-day life moved on, and I found myself faced with the transition of my daughters into yet another cycle of perpetual upheaval.

  Amelia was cute in a “stunning little girl” sort of way on her big day. She was growing up quickly but was still so very innocent. The graduation ceremony was a little awkward with Cheryl’s parents and her family being there. One of the casualties of divorce is the new rules associated in interacting with past acquaintances. Still, they were cordial, and everyone made it through the event with no harm done. It was a moment to celebrate Amelia, not dredge up animosity toward each other.

  Melissa wore a new dress to her graduation. Her mother must have taken her shopping in preparation. Melissa’s graduation present was a new iPod mini. It was fitting because I broke her video iPod in a heated confrontation just a few months prior. I still can’t figure out how Melissa and I reached that level. We were so close and yet so heated when things got nasty. I couldn’t help but feel she was isolating herself. Keeping herself at a distance. The few chances when she did open up were amazing. Sadly, those times were becoming infrequent.

  Melissa

  Melissa couldn’t help feeling alone in her own house even on this monumental day. She felt only a frail connection to her family, and it was becoming difficult for her to maintain any close friends. She had acquaintances, but lacked that bond of one or two girls who were always by her side. The girls who she could count on no matter what. Melissa jumped around to different groups keeping several frail connections, but her social calendar was never fully booked. She spent a lot of energy watching TV or listening to music. She loved music, and her biggest fantasy was to one day end up on American Idol. The very idea of hearing Ryan Seacrest announce she’d made the finals and, then, ending up winning was like a dream.

  At times she thought she might be good enough and, then, at times felt there was no way that she could ever sing so well as to be included in the chosen few. She didn’t have the confidence that some of the kids her age had, but she didn’t lack abilities either. Being just an average girl, living an average life, with an average family that was going through an average divorce is typical, right? It was almost too much to think about, so she spent as l
ittle energy on it as possible.

  Concealing emotions was something at which she excelled. She often found herself in situations where she would lie to her parents about the silliest things, even found herself lying to her friends. She kept most of her feelings hidden. She was unsure how this affected her, but she spent a lot of effort keeping her innermost emotions concealed. The less people knew about who she was, including her family, the safer she felt. How can anyone hurt her if they didn’t even know her? The byproduct of this was the loneliness that crept upon her and the sadness that often accompanied that isolation.

  As she stood there going through her 8th grade graduation ceremony she felt alone, sitting with a few hundred other kids in the Half Moon Bay High School football field. Her thoughts wandered over the past few months and all the changes that had occurred. She began fantasizing what the summer might hold. Summer was always a time of new beginnings and the exploration of new things. It was a transition time as she would be moving to high school. She was curious about what that would be like and how her life would be different going forward. She felt she was growing up, yet she was still so young and wasn’t sure that she was ready to let go of the little girl that she was quickly leaving behind.

  The swirling, confusing thoughts filled her head and left her dizzy. It was now her row’s turn, standing for the walk to the podium to collect their diplomas. Whether she was ready, she was leaving Cunha Middle School behind. She would move on and grow up, as time didn’t stand still for anyone. It constantly moved forward in perpetual motion, even if you were unsure of the next step or of how to navigate through the unknown waters ahead.

  After everyone had their turn and the ceremonial speakers finished, she made her way through the exit and started celebrating with everyone else in her class. Her mother and father were awkwardly standing together, and as she approached them, giving her dad an obligatory hug and kiss, he said congratulations. Melissa’s mom was having her family over for a party, and as was usual, it would be more for her and her family than it was for Melissa. Her mom had never even asked her how she wanted to celebrate. Nobody really ever did ask her for an opinion.

  Apparently, her dad was unable to set aside the differences, and the tension between her dad and her mom was going to keep him from coming by the house. He was most likely going to spend his night alone, watching movies in his dark apartment, avoiding all the signs she was giving on how much she wanted him with her. It didn’t seem fair that she was the one graduating, yet she had nothing to say about who attended or what they did to celebrate or even what was offered to eat. Most likely, they’d have some chicken dish. She hated chicken, yet it seemed to be served at almost every meal.

  Melissa put on her fake smile, hugged her dad, and said thanks as he quickly made his exit, heading to his car. She gave and accepted congratulations from all her friends and their parents until her mother said it was time to go. Then, they all headed to the car for the short trip home. She still did call it home, but it had a foreign feeling now since it was broken and torn from the constant battles it witnessed during the last couple of years. Her Grandma and Grandpa followed behind them in their car. They attended the ceremony to keep her mom company. They gave her support as she faced her soon-to-be ex-husband which was always difficult for her to handle.

  Her mom needed a lot of support. Every time there was an argument, or every time her mother faced a difficult task, the troops were called in from her mother’s friends and relatives. Her mom had difficulty making decisions or confronting things without the much-needed affirmation that she got from those surrounding her. The sad thing was how positive assurance came even when her mother was blatantly wrong. It seems everyone felt so sorry for her mom. They were afraid to make her face the truth of who she was or what she was really doing.

  Melissa was more like her father and preferred meeting everything on her own. They were a family of extremes. Neither was necessarily right. Moderation would have been so much better for all concerned. The one thing Melissa had inherited from both of her parents was the stubbornness to hold steadfast to her opinions to the end. When you have no other choices, then, and only then, did you sway from your convictions.

  Today should have been a day of happiness. A day of family connections, where kids were lifted up for their accomplishments, and the promise of an exciting future was the primary topic of discussion. Instead, it was about how her mom felt facing her soon-to-be ex-husband at her daughter’s graduation and about how her father didn’t even have the strength of will to come to her sad little party.

  Melissa retreated to her room as quickly as time would allow. She used her new iPod to close off the rest of the world and fantasize about her dreams of the future and what the summer might hold. She didn’t know where she was going to spend her time, but wherever it was, she knew that she would be having fun. She would explore things she had never dared to before. This would be her summer to show the world that she was going to make her own decisions. For better or worse, she would carve her own destiny.

  The following week when summer finally began, Melissa’s mother, as usual, was working. It was a beautiful sunny day, her father was living in his apartment, and the live-in au-pair was caring for her two little sisters. Melissa would be doing what she wanted for the next couple of months. She had decided long before that she was going to take advantage of the situation and have an abundance of fun. She had grown up with an au-pair most of her life. Both her parents worked long hours, and even in the best of times, her primary caregiver had been the family babysitter.

  The current au-pair was from Mexico. She was tiny in stature and timid in nature. Even Cassandra, who was the smallest of the three, seemed fully capable of telling her what to do on most occasions. Her name was Danna, and she was extremely nice. Probably too nice to be in charge of Melissa during the summer months she was on a personal mission to forge new ground. Melissa did not spend much time with Danna, as she never felt the need to get to know the au-pairs that well. They were never there more than a year, and it seemed just when you got close to one of them they would leave, and you would be forced to break another one in.

  Danna had plans for the kids that consisted of trips to the parks, going to San Francisco for day outings, spending time at some of the local museums, touring the zoo a few times, and heading down to Santa Cruz Boardwalk, which even Melissa enjoyed. Santa Cruz Boardwalk has an old-time carnival atmosphere with rides and games, and it sits right on the beach. The scenery is beautiful, and it is a great experience. Melissa made a mental note to be available on the days that Santa Cruz was planned. On the rest of the days, she had thoughts of her own.

  Melissa’s friend Sarah lived a few blocks down the street from her house, and today it was an enlightening, warm, beautiful day. She planned on walking down to Sarah’s house and coming up with some activity the two of them could do together. Sarah did not get along with Melissa’s mom, and Melissa’s mom did not like Sarah. Sarah had the reputation of being too aggressive with the boys at this early age. She had already begun the inevitable experimentation with drinking. Thanks to her brother she had even smoked pot a couple of times. Little did Melissa’s mother know how much the two were alike.

  It was 10 a.m. Melissa finally rolled out of bed and, after grabbing something to eat, headed down for her walk. Danna and her two sisters were gone on some daily excursion, so she had no restrictions on what to do or not do. She decided to wear her swimsuit underneath her shorts and a tank top, enjoying the rare warmth that never seemed to frequent the coastal community.

  You don’t realize how much you miss a hot summer day until you live in the cool darkness for several years. Today she didn’t have to worry about how to keep warm. It was easily going to be in the 80s. She was excited about what that might mean. After throwing on her clothes and grabbing a cinnamon Pop-Tart, she pulled her hair back and headed down the hill. It was always easy walking anywhere from Melissa’s house. The difficulty was getting back. S
he lived on such a steep incline it was like mountain climbing to forge her way home from anywhere she happened to stroll.

  She made the decision before leaving that she would not clean up her room, put away her clothes, make her bed, or even put away her glass from the grape juice that she gulped down prior to leaving. She would get more than an ear full when her mother returned home that evening. She enjoyed antagonizing her mother into a flurry of verbal exchanges, as her frustration from a lack of control weighed her down. It wasn’t much of a challenge to get her mother worked up lately. She was in a constant state of an emotional rollercoaster ever since her father had moved on for greener pastures.

  Sarah greeted Melissa on the front step at her house wearing her swim suit top and a pair of shorts. She looked hot from the sun that slowly moved overhead. Nobody on the coast was used to the heat that was continuing to rise with each tick of the clock. Melissa sat down next to her, and Sarah offered her a raspberry wine cooler. As shocking as it was to so freely accept, she found herself doing exactly that, gulping it down quickly. It conjured memories, reminding her of the taste of Kool-Aid from her childhood. Funny thinking this, as she had only turned 14 a few weeks earlier.

  Sarah said her older brother went to the store earlier that morning, and she had convinced him to bring back eight wine coolers. She promised not to tell, and since she and Melissa would only drink four each, they should be fine with very little effect. They sat on the porch, talking about school and how it was going to be weird to transition to a new environment. As they talked, they gulped down wine cooler after wine cooler. Neither of the two girls were that ambitious, so it was difficult for them to decide what to do next.