Because

by Jack A. Langedijk

“But how, how, how? After you called the police that night, my parents actually let them search my room. I’d never seen my parents so freaked. They found some alcohol and some pills and stuff. And then they brought me to the hospital in an ambulance! My parents hadn’t seen my bare arms for the longest time, so when the nurse told me to take off my shirt...then they saw all the cuts and scars...and they...well, they just lost it. I mean my dad starts yelling, ‘Who did this to you? WHO did this to you?’ And then my mom quickly picks up my shirt and she is telling me to put it back on...’PUT IT back on!’ She’s almost yelling at me, like she was worried that someone might see her own daughter all wrecked up. And my dad is still asking me, ‘Who did this to you’ and I lose it and then I start screaming and swearing at my parents. ‘I don’t know who fucking did it, Dad...Do you know...DO YOU?’”

  She stopped to take a breath. Robert could hear a cry welling up, but she swiftly suppressed it.

  Nancy needed to let this out.

  “And then...then they take me to this other room. Three different doctors ask me all these questions, stupid questions. Like I’m some brainless idiot and then they do these crazy kind of psyche tests on me. My parents are standing right behind me the whole time and every time I look back at them, they just look away. Yeah! They do! They turn their heads like they might throw up if they look at me or something. And you know what? They don’t...they don’t even try to touch me. They can’t even touch me! You know, like parents do when their kid is—”

  Nancy stopped. She didn’t want to cry, so she took in five or six heavy, deep breaths and continued.

  “And then my mother, as one of the doctors spoke with them near the door, I heard my mom tell the doctor she was sorry. And then I hear her tell him how embarrassed she was. And then she starts crying. She cried! I mean like, not a little cry. I mean she cried, like weeping, and then everyone starts consoling her. But she’s not crying for me, she’s crying as if it was all happening to her! Not to me. Crying like it happened to her!”

  Nancy stopped to gulp down another sharp cry, keeping it from coming out. “And for the last two weeks, she hasn’t even said a word to me. Not one! She avoids me like I have some kind of contagious disease. No, worse! Like I don’t even exist! So you tell me...how...how is that ‘care’?”

  “Care?” Robert spoke softly and slowly. “That’s kind of hard to answer. I mean, care is something different for every person. Everybody shows it in so many different ways. Look at you, Nancy. You showed you cared enough about yourself to call some crisis hotline, right? But with your drinking and cutting yourself, how is that showing care for yourself? Or that you even care about how that affects your parents?”

  “I’m the one who is bleeding, not them! How does that affect them?”

  “Nancy, you’re their little girl! And now they see their little girl is all cut up and—”

  “You don’t understand. Have you ever cut yourself?”

  “Well, not on purpose.” Robert knew about teenagers cutting themselves, but he had never actually spoken to anyone who had, so he asked her, “But Nancy, let me ask you a question. Have you ever cut yourself when you were laughing or happy?”

  “No, of course not. That’s not the point.”

  “What is the point, then?”

  Nancy got furious and screamed into the phone, “I’m not happy, okay?! I’m not happy! Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Maybe not, Nancy. Maybe it’s not so obvious. Maybe no one else knows you’re not happy. I mean...Do you cut yourself in public so everyone can see you’re not happy?”

  “Shut up! You don’t understand at all, so just shut up...and stop talking about it.”

  Robert was silent. The last thing he wanted was to rile her up. He could hear her breathing and for a full minute they both sat quietly, waiting for the other to speak. A little sound of crying came first and then Nancy broke the silence.

  “Look, I do it alone, okay...because I am alone...all alone, okay?!”

  Robert waited a moment and listened to Nancy’s crying. “No, actually it’s not okay, Nancy. I know I don’t like feeling alone and I’m pretty sure being alone and feeling alone is never okay for anybody. I’m sorry Nancy, really I am. I’m so sorry you feel that way. But can I ask you one last question? I promise, no more, alright?”

  He listened to her sniffle into the phone and could just imagine how huge her tears were and how wet her face must be, so he asked the question with as much care as possible.

  “Nancy, please ask yourself this. Are you willing to change? And how much, how much really, do you want to stop being unhappy and feeling alone?”

  The phone went dead.

  Robert’s eyes opened wide in shock. Had he gone too far, pushed Nancy to where she wasn’t ready to go?

  It was impossible for him to call her back as Nancy’s number was now unlisted. He had only one hour left on his shift at the crisis centre. He sat staring at the phone, willing it to ring, trying to cast some magic spell to get her to call him back.

  Five minutes passed. Ten. Half an hour. Bringgggg. The phone rang. He went to it so quickly, attempting to answer it, that he fumbled the phone around like he was trying to catch a hot potato.

  “Hello, Nancy?”

  “No, no, dear, just me, I’m feeling a little sad right now and I was wondering if you could help me?”

  It was the old woman who called every Thursday, always complaining about her children not visiting her, and how they never called her. Today her complaint was no different.

  Usually Robert would just listen and every now and then acknowledge the woman’s feelings, but tonight, just as the woman said, “They don’t care about me. These kids, they just don’t care anymore,” he couldn’t hold back his question.

  “Well, Ma’am, how do you show your kids you care about them?”

  The old woman got flustered and angrily repeated exactly what Nancy had said. “Well son, you just don’t understand, do you? You really don’t get it, do you? I have cared for my children all my life. Do you hear me? ALL MY LIFE! I think it’s time they showed they cared. It’s only right! It’s only right!”

  “Well, if you have been caring for them all your life and you’re still alive, doesn’t that mean you should still be doing it?”

  “You don’t understand. It’s them, not me! I think it’s time they showed they cared. It’s only right!”

  “But when was the last time you phoned or visited them?”

  The old woman’s voice became bitter and indignant.

  “I’m their mother, they are supposed to come to me. I shouldn’t have to run all over the city to see them. I’m the mother. Don’t you have a mother, son? Don’t you go and visit her?”

  “Sure,” Robert answered, “but my mom also comes to see us, too.”

  And then the phone went dead.

  Not again! Twice tonight! Robert knew the old woman just wanted the same thing he gave her each week, to feel listened to. But somehow, after Nancy’s call, he just couldn’t let the old woman off the hook. Parents need to show their care to their children too, no matter how old they are.

  Great! he thought, what kind of crisis centre gets the callers more upset after they call? The crisis centre had the same oath as the doctor’s oath: “First, do no harm,” and now Robert was wondering how much harm he had done Nancy and the old woman.

  What could I have done differently? They both felt no one cared. They both felt so alone. Yet, neither Nancy nor the old woman could ever tell the people who they cared for how they felt. You know, I never thought about it then, but almost everybody that called that centre...what was their crisis? They all had one thing in common. They were all confronting the same thing: change. A change they wanted desperately to occur. Some didn’t even know what that change would be or could be and most had no clue how to change. Some were hoping the change would be that everyone else would change and, well, most just didn’t have enough courage to do it themselves. And sadly, some people are
so completely without hope that they can’t believe a change could ever happen for them.

  You know darling...I must say it’s so strange every night writing about all these things that happened in the past with Phil, Nancy and Troy...because the present is so amazing up here. Every day, small little adventures of finding!

  Tonight after supper, Satya was as quiet as always. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, but he always wears this yellow coloured scarf around his neck. It’s not a bandana. It looks more like one of those prayer flags we see flying around everywhere. He ties this scarf real high, right under his chin, completely covering his neck. He kind of resembles some rich guy you could see having a butler and a British accent or wearing an ascot. The boys tease him and call him ‘Richie Rich,’ after that kid in the comic books. Well, after we ate, Ang had turned on that old tape recorder he has and was showing us this funny dance step of his: something between what you’d see a highland dancer and one of those Russian folk dancers do, with his arms crossed and kind of squatting and kicking. Philip thought the kids back home might want to get a little taste of Sherpa dancing, so he took out the camera and started filming. Then Troy joined Ang and all of us got a good laugh watching Troy, this muscular street kid, fumble his legs around like a tangled up marionette trying to learn Ang’s step. Then Ang got Nancy to get up and as she got up, she took Satya by the hand and tried to get him to try the step as well. And for the first time, Satya looked like he was actually smiling. But just as he started to rise, he glanced at his dad and then he just pulled his hand away from Nancy’s and quickly sat back down. So then she asked Satya for his scarf to use it in the dance, but just as she reached her hand out to Satya, his dad, Mingma, violently swatted Nancy’s hand away! He hit her so hard that she let out a loud yelp. Then Ang and Mingma started shouting in their native tongue, pointing the whole time at Satya and the scarf. Ang grabbed both Mingma and Satya and took them outside to continue their yelling match.

  Ang came in and apologized and said he had fired Mingma and his son for their behaviour and told us he knew of two other Sherpas in Namcha that would take us the rest of the way. But Nancy said it was her fault and Mingma was just being protective, and he didn’t hurt her at all. She’d overreacted, and she begged Ang to please give Mingma and Satya another chance? Ang asked the four of us if that is what we wanted. Troy and Phil tried to make light of it and joked that if they do come back, Ang had to promise them that...that Mingma would have to refrain from his non-stop chatting as it was driving them crazy! Ang laughed so loud, nodded his head and said, “You good people...must make parents happy with proud.” Phil and Nancy both looked at Troy, knowing he didn’t have any mom or dad and then Phil said, “Ang, it’s more important we feel happy and proud first.”

  Four months later, the crisis call centre ran out of funding and was disbanded. Robert never heard from Nancy or the old woman again. Yet for those last four months, Robert still had at least one or two mysterious hang-ups each night. A couple of times he found himself questioning into the phone, “Nancy, is that you?” but it would always end with the same dull ache of a dial tone.

  The only change that old woman wanted, Robert thought, was probably to find someone else she could complaint to about her children. Yet Nancy, Nancy...He tortured himself with questions. Where was she now? Had her wish for change become more permanent? Had she maybe overdosed or just cut herself too deep this time and help had come too late?

  For months he spoke of his concern for the girl at home. And one night at supper, Monique had finally heard enough and said, “Stop, Bobby. Stop torturing yourself! My God, you see hundreds of kids a week and some with tons of problems a lot worse than this girl. Why is she bugging you so much?”

  “‘Cause I think she killed herself! Because of me. I failed this kid because of what I said.”

  “You don’t know that, Robert, not for sure...You don’t know that!”

  Robert opened his mouth to speak but instead let out a troubled sigh. He pushed his plate over to the side and lowered his head onto the table.

  Monique reached over to her husband, put her hand in his hair and gently stroked his head. “Okay, what did you tell her? What, Bobby? That she needed to change? To be more happy? How can that be so bad?”

  “It’s bad if the change she chose was death!”

  Then Jenny put her hand on her father’s and spoke to him simply and directly, like a mother would, comforting her child after losing a big game.

  “Daddy, it’s not the first time you have ever failed, is it?”

  Robert turned his head to look at his daughter. She was almost twenty and was blossoming into such a bright, beautiful young woman.

  “What?”

  “Dad, you once told me that if there were a hundred kids and you could only get through to maybe sixty or seventy of them, you would know you hadn’t failed. Remember that?”

  “Yeah, but Jen, this is—”

  “Different, Dad? Why?”

  “Because this girl might have killed herself and I couldn’t help her.”

  “And I’m sorry, Daddy, but maybe she did. You can’t save everybody. YOU were the one that told me that Dad...you!”

  Robert sat up, staring at Jenny with a look of awe as she continued on.

  “You said that sometimes the only thing you can do is help the core get stronger. That you can only help make the world they live in more positive. And you said doing that would help the other thirty whom you couldn’t reach. That the core you did get through to would be the support for the others—the ones you couldn’t help—because then they would always have a positive place to go to, right? So, Daddy, just keep doing that!”

  Monique gave Robert one of those listen-to-your-daughter nods. Robert took his daughter’s hand in his and gave it a kiss.

  “When did you get so smart, Little Rock?”

  “Oh, and while I’m being so smart, Dad, here’s something else you said: that everything happens for a reason. And that no matter how dark something might seem, it’s up to us. Right, Dad? We all have to try to find the light or positive in that reason.” Jenny paused, smiled at her father and asked, “So what’s the positive reason for this, Daddy?”

  So just like Troy’s yellow notebook, the adventure of Nancy Archer found its way into the high schools throughout the city. ‘How do we deal with personal failure?’ was now part of his high school workshops. Robert would speak about his failure to listen and help out this one caller at the crisis centre. He would stand there. Surrounded by the young participants. Sitting in a huge circle in some gym. And there he would speak about the girl he had failed to help. He spoke of his guilt and his inability to move forward. He would never use Nancy’s name, but the isolation and pain of her story was easily recognizable for many of the teenagers.

  Seven months later at Dufferin High School, Robert stood before eighty grade eleven students. “I’m human and I failed,” he confessed. “And you know what? I also failed at being a probation officer. My very first case was a young man named Tyrell. He was shot—on the street, in front of me and his ten-year-old brother. And then, there I was, volunteering as a crisis counsellor, and again, I failed. I failed this girl so miserably. But that’s not enough. No, because then I also ended up failing myself and my poor family and friends who tried to help me cope with my failures. You see, I was totally unable to see anything positive to learn from my failures.”

  He then asked the students, “What could I have done differently? What would you do to help this girl?”

  These questions really engaged the kids. They would all break off into small groups and share stories of their own personal failures and how they would do things differently the next time. For some it was a welcome relief to have this unique opportunity to say the words out loud, “I failed. I’m human.” For many, this journey was difficult and awkward. Yet it never failed that the hushed tones would soon melt away and the volume and energy in the room would build with the open sounds of
“Yes...I did the same,” or “Man, I’m sorry, I did that too!”

  The gym came alive with purpose as these young human beings suddenly felt the unbridled freedom to say to their peers, “I failed. Can you please help me to find something positive to take away from that experience?” One could almost feel the four walls of the large gymnasium let out a great exhale of grief and misery and then take in a huge lung-full of hope.

  There were always those who had their reasons to not join in and today was no different. Robert could see one girl sitting far in the corner by herself, looking like she was being scolded by one of the teachers.

  Robert walked towards them and asked, “Can I help?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Sanchez, but she refuses to join a group,” the teacher loudly said, knowing full well she would be heard by the other students.

  Robert calmly put a hand on the teacher’s shoulder and motioned for her to step away so he could talk to her in private.

  “It’s okay, lots of kids have difficulty with sharing. Maybe later she’ll decide to join, but if she wants to just sit around, that’s good too. At least she’s here.”

  It was obvious as she spoke that this teacher was personally fed up with the girl, “Well, she never joins in and it’s not like we don’t try. She’s a new student this year and all of the staff have tried everything to help her. You can’t believe how many times we...Oh, never mind, Go ahead, you try talking to her!”

  Robert took the teacher a couple of steps farther away from the girl. “It’s okay. She’s here in this room. That’s a good start. And, I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

  “Penny, Penny Mooreland,” She seemed pleasantly surprised by Robert asking for her name and her harsh tone suddenly changed into that of a shy girl.

  “Well, Penny, I want to thank you for being here, too. Believe me, it’s appreciated. You know, a lot of teachers don’t even like to be at these workshops. They like to treat it as a day off but look at you. Here you are, showing the kids you support them. They don’t act like they appreciate it but, believe me, they need you!”