I Forgave You Anyway

by B S Steele

“My Mom will never let that happen. She and Aunt Jesse don’t exactly get along.”

  My Mother had always had a chip on her shoulder regarding her younger sister, Jesse. Call it sibling rivalry, jealousy, or just plain family drama. Either way, she wasn’t about to let her sister do what she’d been unable to do. Nor take the credit for seeing me through High school.

  “I’ll talk to your Mom about it, and maybe we can all work something out,” Grandma said, smiling.

  “Let’s hope so, because at this point, I just don’t know how much longer I can take it.”

  I’d already been to see my school therapist, telling her about the conditions in our home and inquired about possible emancipation. I’d embarrassed my parents and put my siblings on the spot. They were called one by one, to the councilor’s office to answer a battery of questions. I didn’t want my parents to get in trouble, I simply wanted help. My Mother’s depression worsened every day and at the rate we were going, one of us was going to end up with more than a broken heart if something didn’t change.

  Watching Patricia lose Leslie had brought up a lot of old wounds for my Mother, and the strain of having Eric living with us only added to her sense of overwhelming responsibility. Something was starting to give and after a long talk with my Mom, she finally agreed to let me try living with my Aunt Jesse.

  I’d have to finish my schooling for the year, and then I would start my Senior year at the small country High school just five miles away from my Aunt’s home. I was nervous to leave everything I knew, but I was excited for the future.

  Aunt Jesse was going to let me learn how to drive and I’d have my own bedroom, all to myself. When Aunt Jesse arrived, it was like a breath of fresh air. I felt like I was finally going to be allowed to grow up.

  Chapter 25: A New Start

  I felt naked coming out of the dressing room. My Aunt and I were shopping for the upcoming school year. It was going to be my Senior year and my one chance to finally be a teenager. A woman was staring at me. Did she think I was immodest? There I went again, using words my cousin would be sure to make fun of me for. He’d told me that “normal,” teenagers didn’t use words with more than two syllables.

  My Aunt came through the racks of clothes, her arms full of other selections for me to try on.

  “That looks nice,” she said, eyeing the maroon and grey active wear I had on. I looked down at it, unsure. I wasn’t used to pants that hugged my thighs. I had no idea what was in style, or what the other teenagers my age were wearing.

  Sure, I’d borrowed a few clothes from Faith now and then. Mostly jeans and a few tops that I only wore for a few hours at a time. I’d tried to fit in towards the end, but I still always felt out of place in what most people would consider “normal” clothing.

  “Thanks,” I said, looking at her shyly.

  I also wasn’t used to being taken shopping. I had the strange feeling that I was going to get home, and all the things she was buying me would disappear, or she’d start screaming at me, telling me I didn’t deserve them.

  I was baffled at how different my Aunt and my Mother were. Aunt Jesse was tall, blonde and had light freckles that she covered with makeup whenever she went out. My Mother rarely wore makeup and was curvy and dark-haired. Aunt Jesse was hard-working and never seemed to stop moving, while my Mom had so many ailments, it was difficult for her to even get out of bed most days.

  Aunt Jesse had an easy smile and a loud goofy laugh while my Mom usually wore a solemn expression, her brows creased together in a hardened frown. Aunt Jesse was matter of fact about things, while my Mom tended to be emotional. They were as different as night and day, yet I loved them both.

  Leaving my Mother had been one of the hardest, yet best days of my life. I wanted to learn everything I could from my Aunt. I respected her hard work and no-nonsense attitude. She’d set up my bedroom in the upstairs of her home. I was amazed that the entire loft space was mine. There were leather couches, a stereo, TV, and a desk overlooking the yard and pond in the back. A small fireplace nestled in the corner to heat the cold winter nights ahead.

  On top of all that, I had my own bedroom she’d decorated with cute girly teenage things. My only roommate was my Aunt’s Calico cat named Patches. I could barely believe how generous and loving my Aunt was. She and my Uncle had opened their home many times when the family’s wayward children needed a home. My cousin Rachel had come and went before me, staying the previous summer. Aunt Jesse had an obvious soft spot for strays, evident by her collection of dogs, cats, chickens and rebellious teenagers.

  Either way, I was here to stay, and I was a four-hour drive away from my Mother, which was just the right amount of space that we needed. We pulled into my Aunt’s driveway a few hours later, her dogs jumping and barking at her truck. I’d never lived in a house with spoiled pets before.

  In my home, they were looked at as just another need to fill, and our dog Buddy had lived his life as a glorified lawn ornament, being tossed chicken carcasses and chained to his doghouse day after day.

  I think my Mom loved the idea of a dog, but just didn’t have the energy to care for one. Every so often, she would go out and bathe him, brushing his coat and giving him treats. Mostly, he was an afterthought in our busy household.

  “Hey guys!” My Aunt exclaimed. The three dogs jumped and tripped over themselves to get to her as she greeted each one of them with a pat on the head. The two Jack Russell’s were the most rambunctious, shoving their way in front of Mel, the oldest of the fur crew.

  Mel was secretly my favorite, with her soft black fur and sad eyes. Aunt Jesse always brought her when she visited on holidays. She wagged her stump of a tail at me, looking at me with her grey beard and half blind eyes.

  My Uncle sauntered out of his workshop, looking to make himself useful helping with our bags. He was a man of few words, nearly ten years older than my Aunt, but his affection for her was undeniable. He pretty much worshiped the ground she walked on.

  “Little shopping today, eh?” He asked.

  I beamed at my Aunt. “Yep, school clothes mostly.”

  He nodded curtly; his bright blue eyes hidden under a ball cap. “There’s some pork on the grill. . . thinking about frying up some potatoes too.”

  I smiled, another new experience. My parents didn’t starve me, but with five, sometimes six children in the house, we didn’t buy things like crackers and cheese, pork ribs and potato chips, and certainly not name-brand cereal.

  Every morning was like a treat for me, my Aunt laughing in disbelief as I asked permission to open the brightly colored boxes.

  Once I was up in my room, I laid out all my new clothes. My Aunt had spent more on me in one day than I’d ever seen spent on one child. I ran my hands over the soft material of one of the sweaters. It was cream colored with quarter length sleeves and a tortoise shell clasp in the front. It looked like something that the girls in the movies would wear. I’d rarely chosen my own clothes, and I didn’t really know what my style preference was. Getting used to the new freedom wasn’t easy. I kept feeling like my Mother would show up, forcing me to leave it all behind.

  Chapter 26: Out of the Nest

  My Mother never did show up. In fact, she never visited, rarely called, and when we did speak, it was short and to the point. My life with Aunt Jesse moved forward. I lived a normal teenage life my last year of High school.

  I made friends, learned to drive, got my first job, fell in and out of love, and finally, graduated with honors. My Aunt proudly displayed my honor cord around my photo on her mantle. Even though things were going well for me, I was still left with a gaping hole in my heart where I’d had to tear my Mother from.

  Aunt Jesse worked with me, listening and giving advice. Helping me through leaps and bounds, making up years of brainwashing from the Baptist church, pain, abuse, and isolation in the short time we had together. I was finally allowed be a “normal” teenager, but I still had a long way to go.

  I was stubborn, feel
ing bullet proof and ready to fly. I’d chosen a college a few hours away, and as fate would have it, I met a boy just a few weeks shy of graduation. David was freshly home from college, handsome and muscular from a year’s worth of athletics on a sports scholarship.

  With my gusto for the future and his bleeding-heart, we were a match made in Hell. It was kismet at first sight and a few months later, we were headed off to college together, excited for our first apartment as a couple. Despite the warnings of our family, we were determined to make our budding love bloom.

  Chapter 27: Three Years Later

  I’d been wearing a tattered band sweatshirt for days, finding comfort in its over-washed crumpled fade. I’d worn it out since my late father had bought it for me nearly 10 years ago. Even though my Mom had so eloquently told me that he’d never actually been my father, in my heart, he would always remain my Daddy. Ten years to the day had been the last time I’d heard him sing or watched him drink a beer in his backwards baseball cap, his ridiculous ponytail curling out from underneath its brim.

  He’d been gone for six years, and everything that remained of him ended up stuffed into a basement, burned in a tin casket, and then laid to rest in an urn that we’d buried in a lonely country cemetery.

  I shuddered to think of how disgusting it was, a person’s life being wrapped up and tucked away like that. Even worse, how I’d been unable to move the portion of his ashes I’d kept in my glove box for months, until they finally spilled all over my unsuspecting Uncle, who’s curiosity about the little box in my glove compartment got the best of him.

  Thinking back, I couldn’t help but smile a little as I remembered the look of utter shock on his face when I’d slammed on my brakes, screaming at him to put it back, his lap dusted with grey powder.

  The very last time I’d saw my Dad, he’d walked away from me, his cart loaded down with a twenty-four pack of cheap beer. His back towards me, he’d stopped to inspect some steaks underneath the sales counter in front of him.

  Michael was barely three years old, strapped into the front section of our shopping cart, grabbing at strawberries, and smiling at every woman that walked by.

  At the time, I’d been working for an insurance company. My suit and silk shirt was a far cry from my usual jeans and sweatshirt, making me unrecognizable to even the man whom I’d believed was my father since I was just a baby.

  “Dad?” I’d called.

  He didn’t hear me over the noise of the other shoppers, and it didn’t help that I hadn’t been gifted with a voice that carried well either.

  “Dad?! I yelled louder.

  He turned, recognizing my voice.

  “Hey, Turkey!” He’d exclaimed, dropping the steak in his hand, and coming over to crush me between his beard and plaid coat.

  I pulled back to look into his face, grinning like a little kid. He bent down to greet Michael, picking him up out of the cart, and holding him tightly in his arms. Michael giggled, showing his pearly baby teeth and grabbed my Dad’s nose.

  As I’d watched him play with my son, it was like time slowed down for a moment. I’d noticed that he looked a little under the weather. Perhaps a little older than I’d last remembered. I had a flashback of us from the time we visited the Washington D.C. Zoo when I was about nine years old.

  We’d walked side by side, both of us scrunching our noses up like pigs, and talking in silly voices. I’d smiled, loving him more in that moment than I ever had.

  “Me and Uncle Todd are headed up to the river, going canoeing with the boys for the weekend,” he’d said nonchalantly in-between blowing raspberries on Michael’s cheeks.

  “Oh, that sounds like fun,” I replied. “I’m just trying to get some shopping out of the way. It’s a big week coming for the company. I’ll be headed towards Traverse City for a business meeting on Thursday.”

  His eyes shone, he’d always been proud of me no matter what I did, but this was big news for me, and he wasn’t ashamed to be happy about it. So far, I’d made enough cash to rent a quarter million-dollar house with a golf course view. Sure, it was still empty inside from lack of furniture, but I was getting there, one step at a time.

  David and I had come a long way from a one-bedroom apartment in the ghetto, eating beans and rice to survive.

  “Congratulations, honey. I know you will be great. You remember what I always told you when you were just a little squirt, sitting on my lap?”

  I rolled my eyes at him and smiled.

  “Yes, Dad, I know. I can be anything I want to be.”

  He winked at me, setting Michael back down in the cart.

  “Well, sounds like you might need a babysitter. I haven’t gotten to see little Mikey in weeks.”

  I raised my eyebrows. My Dad liked to smoke rolled cigarettes and watch Food Network until he fell asleep drinking a forty ounce, which was not exactly my idea of a great babysitter.

  “Yeah, I think that would be okay,” I’d said hesitantly.

  Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

  “Don’t worry, I will smoke outside. We’ll watch cartoons, and I promise I’ll only feed him one bag of candy this time.”

  I laughed, reminding myself that somehow, I had survived in his care, and that I should give Michael a chance to bond with his Papa, just like I’d been allowed to bond with mine. We said our goodbyes, he kissed me on the forehead, and hugged us both one last time.

  The following Wednesday, my cell phone lit up with his picture.

  “Hey Dad!” I said brightly. “You ready to watch Michael?”

  His soft, deep voice sounded tired. “Actually, babe I was calling to tell you I have to cancel. I’m not feeling so well. I think canoeing did me in. Guess I’m not as young as I once was,” he said, sounding disappointed.

  “Hey, that’s okay. There will be other times,” I replied.

  He sighed heavily. “I’ve been home all day. Called off work last night and again this morning. Grandma just gave me a bunch of tomatoes and jars, and I haven’t even gotten a start on canning yet. I’m not sure, but I think it might be the flu.”

  “Well, you just get some rest, and call me if you need anything. Those tomatoes will be there when you get better.” I smiled, trying to cheer him up.

  There was a bit of a long pause, “Okay, sweetie. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Dad,” I said quietly.

  If only I could have known that at that very moment, his heart was struggling to pump oxygen into his body. If I had known, maybe he’d still be alive. That’s the ironic thing about life. We are almost always blissfully oblivious until it’s too late.

  I hung up the phone, looking at its blue LED screen for a moment, then scrolling through my contacts to call my Mother.

  “Hello?” Her voice cracked, sounding like I’d just woken her up.

  “Hey Mom. It’s me,” I said. “My Dad can’t watch Michael. He’s sick. Been off work since yesterday.

  “Oh,” she replied, yawning. “Well, tomorrow is Emma’s bachelorette party. He can stay with me if you want.”

  I sighed with relief. “Thanks, I was hoping you’d keep him overnight?”

  “Yeah, that’s no problem honey. You could stay here too, you know. The party is going to be right next door. Emma’s friends are having it in the neighbor’s garage.”

  “Classy!” I said, laughing. “Okay, that sounds good. At least no one will be driving. I’ve pretty much stayed out of the party planning, but I wanted to at least show my face.”

  I didn’t know my sister’s friends well, since I’d left our hometown when they were barely fourteen. To me, they were still the eighth-grade brats I’d left behind. Corn fed farm girls who paraded around in their glitter lip gloss and Ugg boots, dragging Emma around to house parties and drinking stale beer lifted from their parent’s refrigerators.

  I was the only one with a husband or a child, and I felt more like the annoying hall monitor than anything else. After hanging up with my Mom, I looked hopelessly at
my closet, trying to pick an outfit that wouldn’t make me stick out like a sore thumb.

  I kept reminding myself it was going to be held in a garage, and whatever I wore was probably going to be sloshed with beer within the first twenty minutes. I rolled my eyes and grabbed a simple blue top, pairing it with black leggings and a cotton black sweater jacket.

  When I arrived a few hours later, Emma’s friends shouted in unison as I walked through the garage door. Immediately, I was bombarded by four half-drunk girls, all cackling and wearing plastic penises on their heads.

  I smiled in disbelief. Emma was holding a traffic sign that read: ‘Wet Area,’ and was doubled over laughing, while one of the girls snapped a photo.

  “Hey, sister!” She yelled over the music, skipping over to me, her plastic penis falling forward onto her forehead.

  “Hey!” I said, laughing despite myself, and wishing I’d taken a few shots myself.

  “Wanna play beer pong?” She asked breathlessly, gesturing towards the long table in the center of the room.

  “Maybe in a little bit. Mom is coming over with the cake.” I shouted, feeling myself getting excited to let loose.

  “Shots!” Emma shrieked. “Shots! Shots! Shots!”

  All the girls whistled and started scrambling for the bottles of Fireball and Vodka that lined one of the walls, pouring and splashing over the edges of rainbow-colored shot glasses. My sister’s best friend Hailey handed me a shot, and raised her eyebrows, her straight blond hair pushed up into a ‘bump,’ on top of her head.

  “To Emma,” I said, raising my glass.

  About an hour later, my Mom came through the door holding a chocolate cake, baked to look like an enormous penis.

  “Oh my God, look at that thing!” Hailey squealed, laughing.

  My Mom stood there looking embarrassed, but happy to have pleased everyone.

  “I’ll take it, Mom,” I said, shooting her an apologetic look.