Breaking the Cycle

by Zane

“Yeah. That’s what they’re called.”

  “Lots of us, Man. Used to be diseases and gangs took us out. Now it’s parents, or when we simply happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Michael shrugged at the thought. “Just like you tonight. It’s happening a lot more now than before,” Michael said in a somber tone, reaching to grab two Sprites out of the cabinet behind him, handing Steven one.

  “I thought we couldn’t taste things here,” Steven said, wondering whether he should waste time opening the pop.

  “You have a lot to learn.” Michael took a long sip of pop.

  “Do you… get to see your parents?”

  “I check on my mama sometimes.” An awful stillness came over the room. “She’s not doing so good. Killing me really sent her over the edge. Now they’ve got her on drugs—the legal kind—but she’s no better than some street drug addicts I’ve seen. I think I’ll be running into her pretty soon on this side.”

  “Will I be able to—”

  “We all can. Some do, some don’t. It depends,” Michael said, gazing over at Steven’s parents. “Some of the guys just can’t go back, because they feel that they’ll make matters worse.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to have, you know, like wings or something?” Steven asked with uneasy sarcasm.

  Michael laughed, slapping Steven on the back. “That’s a myth—we don’t need wings to travel—we just go from place to place. Now you see us.” Michael slowly faded from view, leaving only the Sprite can behind. “Now you don’t.”

  “Hey! Come back here,” Steven said, realizing he was, in fact, a lot less lonely with Michael around to explain things.

  Michael reappeared, a smile on his thick lips.

  “Do you think my dad will get help?” Steven walked over to Hector, waving a hand in front of his face. Of course, he didn’t notice.

  “If I were you, I’d be more worried about your mama,” Michael said, directing his attention toward the woman crying into her hands.

  “Why?”

  “Mamas have it hard. Guilt can kill ’em.”

  Steven’s gaze landed on his mother; a small pain flashed over his heart. “Yeah, she’s blaming herself right now.”

  “They all do.” A disappointed frown spread across Michael’s face. “But women have to be real smart.”

  Steven’s attention was directed toward the nurse wearing a white uniform; her brunette hair was tied back into a ponytail. She checked his vital signs. “What do you mean?” he asked, turning to Michael.

  “When they leave, they have to really leave. They can’t just say it and stick around hoping things will get better. Sometimes it never gets better without outside help, and that might not always work,” Michael replied, staring at both Steven’s mother and father. “Sometimes that means they can’t tell their families where they’re going, or it means leaving the state. Sometimes, it means pressing charges and putting the man in jail.” Steven stared at Michael as though he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard right. “My mama had a chance to do that and didn’t. And here I am.” Michael’s hands spread out as though presenting himself for an Army inspection.

  “Yes,” Steven said slowly, feeling the pain in his heart increase as he watched his mom’s tears fall. “Here we are.”

  Steven was trying to take all of this in at once. He also tried to understand things that he didn’t know before about his father. Hector had followed in his father’s abusive footsteps, but hopefully, it would stop now.

  A tall, black woman, with dark, wavy hair, wearing a blue and gold Dashiki entered his hospital room. Her bright smile and flashing brown eyes showed she was obviously in high spirits. Steven had never seen someone who looked so peaceful. “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Santos,” she said, extending a hand to his mother. “I’m Kristen Willis, one of the family counselors for Michael Reese Hospital.”

  Mom absently shook the hand the woman offered, but Hector just stared at her.

  Ms. Willis took a quick glance at Steven’s body, then looked back at them. “He’s a very strong young man.”

  “How may we help you, Ma’am?” Hector asked somewhat impolitely, as if she were interrupting something, which was far from the truth.

  “I was asked to come up here by Mrs. Santos.”

  Hector took one look at Steven and then back at Ms. Willis. “We don’t need a marriage counselor.”

  “I’m not here for your marriage; I’m here for all three of you,” she quickly replied. “Now there’s no doubt in my mind that you are having marital issues also, based on your wife’s bruises.” For the first time, Hector couldn’t and didn’t say anything to defend himself. “Why don’t we take this to my office?” Ms. Willis said smoothly. “People in a coma can hear things and there are some things that might be said that you don’t want Steven to hear.”

  Mom stood and walked to the door behind Ms. Willis. Hector hung back near Steven’s bed. Steven watched, hoping that his father would, for once, remember that he promised to get help and would take the first step. Finally, Hector trudged to the door as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

  Steven turned to Michael and said, “I sure hate that I’m going to miss the conversation.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “How can I leave?”

  Michael drained the last of the pop. “Picture your mom and dad in your mind.”

  Steven closed his eyes. Soon the sound of the machines and monitors became a faint hum. Steven jolted, feeling a strong urge to throw up before he opened his eyes. Michael was still sitting on his left, but the hospital room had now become a slate-blue painted office, with certificates on the wall, two chairs on opposite sides of a cherrywood desk with maroon carpet underneath, and slivers of sunlight peeking through the blinds.

  Steven turned to Michael. “You could’ve warned me.”

  Michael shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.” Then he looked down at the scene below.

  Ms. Willis pulled out a file and notepad. “Okay, Mr. Santos, what seems to be the problem?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hector said defensively.

  “I’d like to know what you think is going on with your family,” she said, glancing up from her notes. “Based on what I see, you should be in prison right now,” Kristen said, pointing to the bruises on Mom’s jaws and arms.

  Steven was rooting for his dad to open up and let some things out. “Better out than in,” his Grandma had always said. Even though she meant it for passing gas, it had to mean other things also.

  The silence in the room was cold and hard as the two women waited for him to answer.

  Michael elbowed Steven. “Stubborn, isn’t he?”

  “Shhhhhh!”

  Hector glanced at Mom, then to the woman behind the desk. “I have—I have a drug addiction. I feel that’s what’s tearing my family apart. I need to work on that.”

  “How long have you had this drug addiction?” she asked.

  “Two years; going on three.” He felt so ashamed to say even the little that he had admitted, because it was painful for him to admit that he was wrong.

  “What caused this addiction to form, and made you turn on your own family?” Ms. Willis asked, analyzing his every move, his every word.

  “I was stressed out about not having a job and not being able to support my family.” Hector allowed his thoughts to stir and marinate in his mind. “Heather had to go back to work, and I still couldn’t find a job. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I started smoking weed to take the edge off. Then weed couldn’t do it—so I tried cocaine, then something stronger. And now I owe people for not paying.”

  Mom gasped; her eyes widened in horror. Hector’s gaze fell to the window, though he couldn’t see a thing with the blinds closed.

  Ms. Willis gave Mom’s hand a little pat, hoping to keep her quiet.

  “My family seemed like they needed more and more from me and I still couldn’t find a job. Now what’s even more unbear
able is that my son’s on life support and it’s all my fault.”

  “How is it your fault?” Ms. Willis asked, looking over Steven’s chart, as though this information was news to her.

  “Last night, I was high and I came to get some money from Heather because I knew she’d just gotten paid.” Tears caught in his throat. “I wanted it so much and I was afraid that the drug dealers would kill me this time. She wouldn’t give me the money. I lost it and started beating her.”

  Steven turned to Michael. “Yeah, that’s something that I saw happen almost every other day.”

  This time Michael said, “Shhhhhhh!”

  “Steven tried to give me his allowance, but he scared me by getting up so fast. I didn’t know he was in the room. Next thing I know, the gun went off and Steven was on the ground.” Hector lowered his head in his hands. “I shot my own son.”

  Heather got up and ran out of the room, covering her face with tears. Hector had forgotten she was even there.

  “How do you think Steven felt, watching you two fight all the time; especially watching you beating on his mother over money?” Ms. Willis asked.

  Hector let his head drop, staring at the carpet. “I know it couldn’t have been good at all. I didn’t feel good when my dad beat on my mother.”

  “So, if you didn’t enjoy it as a child, why would you do it to your wife and in front of your own son?” she asked for clarification.

  “I—I don’t know. I guess I felt in control of something, although it was wrong, and I don’t think I was in my right mind.” Hector rubbed his face, showing that he was tired. “If anything, I should’ve never put my hands on her, but I needed that money; even if I had to go through her to get it.”

  The paging system announced the need for a doctor in ER as they continued talking. Steven, for the first time, saw his father pour his heart out. It had been a long while since his father’s eyes weren’t glazed with a new high. After a moment, Hector’s own words penetrated through his thick skull as tears flowed down his cheeks. He realized that the way he handled things in his household was the way his dad had handled his household, except his dad was a drunk. Same old song, different verse—drugs instead of liquor. “I treated them so wrong. The last thing my son said to me was that he forgave me and that if I really loved him, I would get some help.”

  Ms. Willis could see that his son’s words were eating him alive. “At least he forgave you. Many children don’t get the opportunity to forgive anyone who treats their mother the way you did, and many of them are still living.” She got up from the chair and walked over to Hector. “Come on. Let’s go see Steven.”

  Steven grabbed Michael’s hand, closed his eyes, and pictured the hospital room. They made it there before Ms. Willis and his dad, but not before his mom, who sat in the chair next to the bed, rocking back and forth like a child.

  The woman placed her hand gently on Steven’s head. Steven could feel the warmth from Ms. Willis as he sat next to Michael.

  “He has such a good heart,” Ms. Willis said softly, “and he’s such a good kid; especially since he knows how to forgive. Not everyone knows how to forgive. I’m going to recommend a therapist for your family. You need to get help for the drugs, too, and try to talk to your wife.”

  Hector stood up, walking over to the bed. “But what can I do? He’s in a coma, and I’m afraid to talk to my wife, especially after all I put her through.”

  “It’s going to take some time for her to deal with you, if she still wants this marriage to work.”

  For the first time since they had entered the room, Mom spoke. “You need to get yourself right with God and right with yourself.”

  Hector nodded.

  “I can make suggestions and offer advice,” Ms. Willis continued, “but you’re the one who needs to be committed to following through on your son’s wish for you to get some help. So far, talking with me today is a good start. But don’t worry. I still believe your son is watching over you.”

  Michael nudged Steven, who for some reason felt the urge to cry. “You’ll watch over him, right?”

  Ms. Willis glanced at her watch, then reached into her pocket. “Here’s my card. You can call me or come downstairs to my office.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Willis,” he said, shaking her hand.

  “You’re welcome.” She touched Hector’s shoulder before walking to the door. “Although Steven has forgiven you, Mr. Santos, you need to forgive yourself, follow through with therapy, and break this terrible cycle. Things will only get worse if you don’t.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. As easy as it sounds, I know it’s going to take some hard work to get right again.” He placed a hand on Heather’s shoulder. “I want to work things out with you, but after tonight, I figure our marriage is over.”

  “Hector,” she said in a low voice. “our marriage has been over since the first time you hit me. We’ve been living a lie and we both know it. I wasn’t strong enough to leave, and now I’m paying for that. But more than this marriage, get help for yourself. Keep your promise to Steven.”

  Hector recollected all of those words that he said about Steven. Saying that he had given up his life for his family, as though it was their fault. That’s something that no child should ever hear. Hector paced the room, knowing what to do but not knowing where to start.

  “Go on home, Heather. I’ll stay with Steven.”

  Hector’s hands trembled with the need for another fix. Sweat poured down his face as though the temperature in the room had turned to one hundred. The drugs were calling him. Somehow, this time Steven didn’t think his father would answer.

  Hector fell asleep as Michael and Steven talked about their parents.

  A young, Asian woman entering the room startled Hector from his nap. He sat up. “Sorry, I thought you were my wife.”

  “No, I’m just coming to check on Steven’s vitals.”

  Another nurse came into the room, helping to adjust Steven’s tubes while the Asian woman wrote notes in the chart.

  “Hello, Mr. Santos. How are you this morning?” the nurse asked, retying her brunette hair in a ponytail.

  “I’m hanging in. Thanks,” he replied, walking back to the window. Even Steven could tell his father was far from okay.

  “You don’t look so well. Do you need to see a doctor, or anything?” she asked, walking toward him ready to check his vitals.

  He stretched his arms before letting out a yawn. “I’m fine. It’s just stress and I’m tired.”

  “Then I think you need to get some rest.” She reached into her pocket for a pen and scribbled something on her pad. “The doctor can give you something to help you relax.”

  “No thanks,” he said in a strong, sure voice. “I’m done with pills.” Instead, he took a sip of the cold coffee from the cup Heather had left behind. The nurse got him a blanket from the bottom of the closet as he sat down in one of the green chairs. She held it out; he took it, covered himself, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

  Michael’s lips pursed as though he were about to say something but changed his mind.

  “What?” Steven asked.

  “You can say something to him.”

  “My dad?”

  “Yeah. When they’re in between waking and sleep, we can reach them.”

  “What about my mom?”

  “Right now, your dad needs you more.”

  Steven hesitated, watching the man stretched out in the chair like he’d be there for a while.

  “Dad.”

  Nothing.

  “Dad.”

  Hector’s eyes shot open, but he didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t remember being in a bright white room, with no window and no hospital bed. Hector looked around the endless space and saw nothing and no one, until he heard a voice behind him call out, “Dad!”

  He turned around slowly. Steven stood in front of him, a smile plastered on his face.

  “Dad.”

  Hector’s dark brown eyes glistened as he could feel
more tears on his face. Hector reached up and touched Steven’s face to see if it were real. Although he could sense that he was dreaming, it didn’t matter. It was as good as the real thing. Hector pulled Steven into his arms, letting his head drop onto Steven’s shoulder. It was as though Steven was the father and now Hector was the child.

  Hector’s face lifted. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, so sorry,” he repeated with his head shaking in disbelief, all excuses forgotten; everything else forgotten. The only thing that mattered right now was his son.

  “It’s okay. Remember, I forgave you,” Steven said, wiping his father’s tears with the back of a trembling hand. “But, Dad, I’m going to need you to forgive yourself. You may have disappointed me, but I’ve learned that I can’t hold onto things either, letting them eat at me, stressing me out.”

  “Yes, Son. But I’m not sure if things will go back to being the same.”

  “Remember how you felt about Mom when you first met her? After a while you fell in love with her. You found love between each other, and nothing can top that. I’m not saying that things will go back to normal, because I’m not sure how much more Mom can take. The drugs turned you into a totally different person, and we weren’t sure whether you could change back. I know I had my doubts.”

  Hector hugged him again. “You won’t ever have to doubt me again, Son.”

  “I know that, but Mom needs to know that. She was the one much more hurt by you than me. I’m just a messenger. Don’t go back to the way you were, even before you got into drugs. A part of you was hurting even then. Losing your job didn’t make you turn to drugs.”

  “I know I must change, but it’s hard. I’m not sure talking will help.” Hector’s face twisted with confusion.

  “Prayer; therapy; Ms. Willis. Do something, because you don’t have much time. Before you know it, we’ll be gone and the time for healing will pass.”

  Steven turned away and walked back toward Michael. Hector reached out for him, stopping him. “Where are you going?”

  “It’s time for you to wake up, Dad. You have a lot of work to do, and only you can do it.” Hector pursed his lips to say something else, but Steven was gone.