Learning to Cry

by Christopher C. Payne

  Maybe Karen would bring some much needed sanity to her family. Maybe Karen would be somebody she could talk to. Maybe she would be someone who would understand what Melissa was going through. Maybe Karen would be just be one more adult telling her how screwed up she was and what she was doing wrong. Everything Melissa did was wrong. She was screwed up, and she knew it. How does one ever figure out how to find oneself? Her head hurt, and every time it did, she got scared. Her father thought things were better. Her mother told her how great she was doing. Did either one of them have eyes?

  Once when Melissa was young, she played hide-and-seek with her cousin and a couple of friends. They were at her cousin’s house, and she found herself in her aunt’s bedroom. Her aunt had this huge hope chest at the end of her bed. A beautiful handmade quilt that her grandmother made covered the chest.

  Melissa crawled in the hope chest and shut the lid. It was dark in that chest. It wasn’t the kind of dark at night where you can see. It was so dark she couldn’t see her own hand. It was like something had sat down next to her and sucked any semblance of light from all around her being. She remembered feeling as if she would suffocate. She almost couldn’t breathe. She screamed and hit the lid. She couldn’t get out. She panicked and didn’t know what to do.

  She beat the lid, her face grew wet, and she couldn’t catch her breath. That was the worst part. She literally couldn’t breathe. Her aunt lifted the lid, and Melissa scrambled out, clawing at her aunt’s shirt as she jumped in her arms. Her hands were bleeding, and she couldn’t stop crying. She tried to crawl inside her aunt as she clawed at her sweater. She kicked her accidentally, but she couldn’t control her arms or legs. She cried and cried. She just couldn’t stop.

  It took her hours to calm down that day. Her dad laid down with her in her aunt’s bed, holding her. Eventually they watched some TV, took a little nap, and everyone else left them alone. Her mother came in, but Melissa just needed her dad at the moment. Her mom was too busy anyway. Her mother was quite the social butterfly at family gatherings.

  Melissa never forgot that feeling, and at times when she had her headaches, she felt that overwhelming suffocation coming back.

  What was wrong with her? Why was this happening?

  When you are young and happily innocent

  You find your life to be so consistent

  As you grow through adolescence

  You lose your grasp on youthful essence

  One day you wake up and sadly find

  You seem to have misplaced your aching mind

  You wonder if insanity is another stage

  As you lie in the dark, locked in your cage

  Cheryl sells the house

  Melissa

  Melissa woke up every morning, wondering what might be the next shitty thing that a new day would bring. Every day seemed a little worse than the one before. Is it possible for every single moment of your life to be a monotonous decline into the pits of hell? It is like walking on a hill without reaching higher aspirations. Your descent into a pile of shit is a one-way ticket. You do not pass “Go,” you do not collect $200 dollars, and there never has been nor will there ever be a “Get Out of Jail Free” card.

  At least it was a Saturday. She was going to stay in bed until her mother came and dragged her out. Since this was her weekend with her mom, she had the luxury of sleeping in. Her dad always planned “special” events. Going to a museum, heading out shopping, or going on some trip for a weekend. Every single day with him was turning into an activity zone. Sometimes she didn’t want to hang out with the family and spend all of her free time engaged. Sometimes she just wanted to sleep.

  If not sleep, then maybe dream. She loved dreaming. It was the perfect way to take her mind away from the constricting vice that engulfed her head on most days. It was an easy way to get away. She loved watching movies for the same reason. It was perfect how the couple always stayed together in the end, in most cases anyway. Life should be as predictable as a movie. The good guy should always win, and the man should always get the woman back before the credits rolled. It would be so much simpler.

  She remembered the last family trip they took together in Mexico. Not her father’s new make-shift family, but her real family. Every time either one of her parents asked her what her favorite vacation was, it was always Mexico. She wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was because she had felt so grown up. It was a different country, but she had now been to a few different countries -- France, England, Canada, Mexico. She was lucky enough to have traveled, but she didn’t really know if that was good enough to be called lucky.

  They ventured off to Mexico with two other families, and everyone shared rooms. The kids even stayed in their own room one night. It was amazing. It was like having your own space and getting to make your own decisions. The adults mingled down by the pool and drank themselves silly until the wee hours of the morning. When she looked back, she could have done almost anything she wanted that night. Nobody would have known the difference.

  Her favorite day had been at Oceans World, or Oceans Park, or something like that. It was a huge park and focused on ocean animals. She and her dad used fins and snorkels to swim in a large bay to see huge fish. Her mom stayed in the shallow end with her little sister Amelia. Cassandra hadn’t even been born yet. It was strange to think of her not being born. She was such a huge part of the family now. It was like she had always been there.

  Melissa’s parents let her swim with the dolphins which was, apparently, expensive but was amazing. She had on a life vest, was in the water with nine other people, and she got to pet the dolphin, feel its teeth and, at one point, the dolphin picked her up by her feet and shot her forward through the water. It was something she would never forget. Amelia had been too young and afraid at the time to even try it, and her mom was always a little too scared.

  She loved that trip. Hanging out at the pool during the day, enjoying the night, eating at the buffet whenever she wanted. The kids could just go to the restaurant without even asking the adults. Everything had been free, or at least it was all one, pre-paid price. One day, they travelled a few hours to some ruins and explored some old pyramids. The thought of that trip always made her happy. It was like everything was ok again, and they were all still a family.

  During that trip, she spent most of the time with her hair up in corn rows with beads flapping all over the place. That had been fun, as well, until she tried to take them out on her own. A few got tangled together, and her mother cut a huge chunk of her hair out to remove the rubber bands. It always seemed to come down to cutting her hair. Her hair had given her trouble more times that she could remember.

  This was also the first time they had tried parasailing. At first, Melissa’s parents told the girls they couldn’t try it because it cost too much. But her dad snuck her and one other girl off for a couple of hours, and they tried it. They were strapped into their harnesses, and Melissa was amazed as the boat launched them into the air. All three of them went up at the same time, and they were so high they could see for miles around their hotel. Everything looked so different flying from above.

  They wouldn’t go on any more family vacations, that was for sure. Those kinds of trips were long gone. As she lay there in the middle of her flashback, she heard her mother screaming for her to come to the kitchen. It wasn’t even 10 a.m., and she was no way in a mood to get out of bed. It was so much nicer to pretend nothing in life had changed. How could you do this if you were pushed into reality, before you were ready?

  After the third high-pitched scream, Melissa finally got out of bed and grabbed her robe. She slammed her door against the wall as it opened and stomped down the hallway. Her mother and two sisters sat in the living room.

  “What?” she bellowed as she stopped short of joining them. Why was she being bothered so early and what was so important? She cringed sometimes when she saw the disappointed look on her mother’s or her father’s face, but it was always after she was worked up. She couldn
’t stop herself once she got going.

  Her mother wanted to speak with all three of them. It was important. She asked Melissa to sit down, give her a few minutes, and she would explain. Melissa curled up in a chair on the opposite side of the room, as far away as she could be, and still remain within talking distance. She then listened to the pre-planned speech.

  The house where they lived for several years as a family, the house her father left, was sold. It had been on the market for several months, and they finally had a buyer. They had to move out in five weeks, and everyone needed to work together to get it all packed up and organized. Melissa could feel her head squeezing tighter with every word her mother said.

  They looked at a house a couple of miles away. It was on the same block as her aunt’s house and was within walking distance to the ocean. Her mother rented it, so they would move by the end of the month. Each girl would still her get own bedroom. Life just had a way of working out perfectly for her mother, didn’t it? Melissa asked if she could go back to bed. Her sisters cried and said how happy they were. They acted like moving into a rental house was exciting. So much for growing old and living out their childhood in a home.

  Melissa went back to her room and flipped on the TV. She lit up a joint she had in her back-pack and started getting high. She didn’t even care anymore. She was so tired of this shit and everything that accompanied it. Out of habit, rather than fear of being caught, she opened the window and blew the smoke outside. What was her mother going to do at this point, anyway? Melissa already felt all alone, completely isolated, except for these damn voices that seemed to never stop anymore.

  Maybe if she quit fighting it and just accepted them her sanity would return. Maybe the voices kept her functioning and should be embraced. At times she felt her headaches were caused by the displeasure of the voices within her. If she cooperated with them maybe they would be a little bit nicer. Maybe they would stop incessantly pounding the inside of her skull. Maybe everyone had voices inside their heads, but they just didn’t talk about them. Everyone lies about everything anyway.

  She was hungry but didn’t want to leave her room. She knew if she faced her mother again in the next few hours it would result in a fight. She didn’t have the energy to fight right now. She was so tired. All she really wanted to do was sleep. Is it possible to get too much sleep? Can you become so lethargic that you turn into a fat lump of nothing?

  She remembered the Web site she discovered a few days previously and chuckled to herself. It was a fat lady who sat in front of a camera and did nothing but eat. Everyone sent in donations so she didn’t have to leave her table. She continually shoveled spoonfuls of food into her mouth. She ate anything, whatever happened to be on the table at the time. Her goal was to get as obese as possible. Is that not a form of suicide, and were the donors doing nothing more than watching her kill herself?

  What kind of a sick world did society occupy? Had perverted reality reached this iconic level of insanity?

  Her mother knocked on the door and opened it. Why the hell do people knock on the door if they are just going to open it anyway? Just open the damn door to begin with. The pretense of knocking is an insult to an educated person’s sanity. Not that Melissa was educated. She was struggling to pass high school.

  Melissa wondered if her joint was laced with something because her mother’s mouth moved, but Melissa couldn’t understand what she said. It was like listening to Charlie Brown’s teacher. You never saw her, but you heard her characteristic “wha wha wha wha wha wha” phrase. How the hell did the other characters know what she said? It didn’t make any sense.

  Jesus, Melissa realized her mother was screaming at her.

  Melissa heard herself beg her mother to stop.

  “Please stop yelling,” she said.

  It was like listening to a recording of her voice and hearing it play back over and over again. Still her mother would not shut up. The voices were gearing up, as well, and she couldn’t make them stop either. It all consumed her, and her head began to throb. Her mother still screamed.

  “Jesus, shut the hell up, you damn bitch!” she screamed. God, it didn’t seem like she was even the one saying these words.

  Then, her mother hit her. She smacked Melissa across the face with the palm of her hand. Not very hard, and Melissa didn’t feel it anyway. She was unsure that she could feel anything. Melissa kneeled by her dresser and pounded her head against the side harder and harder. She just wanted everything to stop. She heard her little sister crying somewhere in the background. She wondered if Cassandra could see her. She wanted to hug her for some reason, but she couldn’t stop beating her head.

  She had a nice rhythm going, but her mother pulled her shoulders back. It felt like her mother was trying to stop Melissa from pounding her head. But this was the only thing maintaining Melissa’s sanity. She couldn’t stop Melissa, not now. She tried to hit her mother, but her strength was gone. She focused all her energy on her head. She pounded it again, and she suddenly felt OK. Everything was calm. The shouting died down to a low murmur. It was quiet, finally. God, it felt good to relax.

  Melissa woke up in the bathtub fully dressed. Her mom was screaming and her aunt was in the room, as well. She tried to figure out what was happening and why she was being given a bath.

  Her mom was crying and said, “Thank God, oh thank God.” She reached up and brushed the hair out of her mother’s face, but it was so difficult. God, she was so groggy. Her mother told her to just relax as her aunt helped her to her feet. They both helped her get her clothes off and walked her to her bedroom.

  It felt so good for Melissa to lie down. It was so relaxing. She automatically reached for the remote and turned the TV on. She could hear her aunt and mom talking about taking her to the hospital or to see a doctor, but her mom said no. Thank God – she didn’t feel like going anywhere right now. Her head hurt like hell, though. It was strange. She had a huge lump in the middle of her forehead, as if she’d been hit. She felt it with her hand. Her aunt handed her a glass of water and told her to drink it. She did.

  Her mouth tasted as if she had recently vomited. Her aunt and mother talked about her puking, so she guessed she had.

  God, there is nothing more disgusting than throwing up. What is it in the pit if your stomach that smells so bad? Food should never take on the form of puke with a smell like that. It was probably one of the biggest mistakes God had made when he created man. Well, shit didn’t smell that good either, she thought. When something is so used up and anything remotely good has been extracted, everything left over is bound to be disgusting, she thought.

  Maybe that was Melissa. Maybe she was nothing more than the remnants of a normal human being. Simply a shell of leftover puke and shit. Sometimes that was how she felt. She just wanted to curl up in the toilet and have somebody flush her to the end, wherever the end might be. Who the hell knew where shit ended up, anyway? It just circled the toilet and found its way through the hole in the bottom going off to wherever. It didn’t make any sense.

  Melissa vaguely remembered taking several hits of weed. She hadn’t intended to get this messed up, but she remembered not caring in the slightest. Her mother cried, and her aunt held her in the doorway. They debated whether to leave the door open or closed. The issue was apparently her younger sisters seeing her, but they were also worried about her well being.

  She smiled over to them and said, “I really am fine. The water has helped a lot. Just shut the door or leave it open a crack, and I will just watch some TV.”

  This seemed to surprise both of them as they stared at her for a minute with their mouths open. Then, they shut the door, leaving it open a tiny crack. What did they think she would do? Kill herself? She felt despondent, but not to a point of suicide. She might hate her life and everything that was happening, but she wasn’t stupid. Her father talked about suicide all of the time. He was obsessed with it. It all had to do with his friend from high school and all that crap. How many time
s had she heard that story?

  She did wonder about death sometimes. What it would be like. Would it be peaceful? Would it be a calmness that surrounded her until she floated out of her body, finding her way to Heaven. She couldn’t imagine going to Hell, even if Hell existed. She made mistakes, but technically she was still a kid. Didn’t all kids go to Heaven, or was that dogs? If all dogs go to Heaven, then kids should go there as well, right? It wasn’t like she had killed anyone or robbed a bank. She made mistakes, but they were still kid mistakes, not adult ones.

  She stayed alone the rest of the day. She watched TV in her room. She spent the night in her bed, as well. She got up the next day and went about her routine as normal. Her mother didn’t talk about the incident nor did Melissa get in any trouble. It was as if nothing even occurred. It was like that on most occasions. They pretended things didn’t happen or they glossed over them with a pretty color, acting like everything was ok. It was all about the painted picture that everyone else saw. Reality meant very little in that household.

  It was humorous, listening to her mother at family gatherings and or parties. Everything was great, family was perfect, life was a bowl of fucking cherries on most occasions. Isn’t it so strange how cherries never seem to spoil for some people? No matter how long they are neglected, cherries are always perfectly ripe and ready to go. Melissa never understood if her mother was scared of the truth or just afraid of looking like a failure.

  At least her mother never told her father. Her mother and father talked very little, and when they did it was strained. Like everyone else, her mother wanted all appearances to form a perfect picture. It was such an oddity that nothing in life ever went wrong. Wouldn’t somebody question things sometime?

  Melissa never talked about things like this incident in counseling. Maybe she was more like her mother than she thought. Realizing you aren’t so different from you parents is a defining moment in the passage from your adolescence to adulthood. Appearances didn’t mean that much to Melissa, but why would she keep something like that a secret from the very people who were supposed to help her?