penance. a love story (The Böhme Series)

by Sarah Buhl

  I’m sorry for judging you and telling Mom and Dad. I did it because I was jealous of your freedom with it. Sex means freedom for you, but chains for me. It chokes me and I want the freedom to experience things without being haunted by memories. But the memories will never leave me. I have learned that now. This is the only way to make them stop. I just want them to stop.

  I love you with all my heart, Hannah. You are the other part of me that will always know and remember the real me—the little girl that hid with you on the branches of a cherry tree. I was strong once, and that’s how I want you to remember me. I was the one that helped you up and held you tight. Remember me as that. Don’t remember me as the broken person I am. Remember me when you watch falling stars and smell the blossoms of the cherry tree. That’s where I will be.

  Love you always little sister,

  Your Lilith Billith

  After reading the last sentence, I fell to the ground, and every broken part of me pushed to the surface and expelled itself out through my cries. I shook, and the world darkened as I fell forward onto my hands and knees and screamed. I held the letter to my chest and rocked back onto my knees and Wynn’s arms wrapped around me. I dug my nails into his arms to pull him tighter to me and he didn’t hesitate to hold me. He took the pain I inflicted without a word or even a wince. He held tighter as I clawed at him trying to bring myself out of the hole pulling me under, drowning me in the pain of losing Lilith again.

  Everything I had thought and believed was wrong. She did this, because it was her only way to make the memories stop. I understood that. I did what I did, to try to make memories stop.

  She never said anything to me. She protected me from the demons holding her captive at night. My father never told me and he kept this letter from me. The pain, guilt, and heartache I inflicted on myself for the last two years were because of his selfishness. He didn’t want to face the fact that he could have saved both his daughters’ lives years ago if it wasn’t for his own pride. “I… Hate… Him,” I said through clenched teeth and rolled forward onto my hands again, handing the letter to Wynn so he could read the truth. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.

  I watched Wynn as he read the letter and folded it back into the envelope. He stood and walked into the house without a word. Yelling resounded from the house and I wondered what happened. But my curiosity wasn’t strong enough for me to stand and find out. I rolled back to the grass and stared at the clouds rolling overhead. “Why didn’t you just tell me, Lily?” I asked to the open sky.

  New tears formed as I thought of all the times Lily seemed to hold back with me. Times when Maggie and I discussed men and Lily would shy away. I always thought she was a prude, but in reality, her fears choked her. Haunted by her own past demons, she retreated into herself, much like I had the last two years.

  I listened to the muffled yells coming from the house for several minutes before my mother came out to find me. She stood over me, arms wrapped around her. “Did you know before this letter?” I asked without emotion as I stood.

  She gave me a blank expression. “Did—you—know?” I asked with more forcefulness and anger.

  She lowered her head and pulled her lip in, fighting back tears, before she nodded. “I’m sorry, Hannah. Your father’s rationalization at the time made sense. I didn’t want your sister to be seen as someone hurt or tarnished. We wanted her to be seen as the prize she was, the beautiful, lovely, pure bride that she was going to be when she grew older.”

  “Appearances, mother are just that. Appearances—they are a fucking façade. Just like this family. Just like this farm,” I said as I stood and threw my arms around to point out the things I hated that were fake. “You never wanted to know either of us. You never wanted to talk to us. You never cared to stand up to the ugly words he said to us.” I pointed at the house hoping that every angry word forced its way into the house and into my father.

  “She was a fucking child, and you made her hide it away! You didn’t even let her tell me!” I fought back tears that were threatening to fall again. “You showed us that our only value came from being a good, submissive wife. That is what we amounted to in your eyes,” I said quietly as I let the tears fall. “Did you have any dreams? Was this what you wanted out of your life? To live here on this fucking farm raising pigs, cows, and bees; making meals for an ungrateful bastard that treated you like shit?” I said the last word with so much anger and determination I hoped she felt it to her bones.

  And as she turned angry eyes toward me I saw she did feel it. She let it ripple from her as a slap across my face. She put her hand to her mouth in shame, as soon as she completed the action. I pulled her hand from her mouth. “No, thank you. Hit me again. Show me fucking emotion. Stop being timid—stop bowing to him and stand up for yourself. You just stood up to me. Stand up to him!” I yelled as I threw my arm toward the house again. My face covered in tears, I let out a scream of frustration.

  Looking at the house, I hadn’t realized that my father and Wynn had come outside and were standing on the porch taking in the scene between my mother and me. “She’s right, Claire,” my father said as he looked at his wife. “I’m not going to be here much longer and I’ve held you back for too long. It sounds like these are just words of a dying man trying to make amends and maybe they are. But on a daily basis I regret the way I’ve treated you. There is a monster inside me that I try to tame every day and this disease has been the turning point for me. Since I didn’t have the strength to control it on my own, maybe my body decided to control it for me,” he said as he looked toward me.

  “Both of you need to know that I’m weak. I always have been. Your strength threatened me.” He hung his head. “All of your strength did—including Lily’s. I had to fight for control because there was so much strength in you. Then… then when that happened to Lily, I lost the last shred of control I possessed. I was weak and couldn't protect her.” He lowered his head even more and groaned as tears began to fall. His face contorted in pain and tears as he continued. “She was so pure and sweet and innocent and that asshole took every ounce of her strength and I had to protect both of you from the outside world, because I didn’t want that to happen again.” He stepped toward me and lowered his hand to take mine. With reluctance I took his as I turned to face him. His hand was dry and clammy and it wasn't the strong hand I remembered of my father.

  He touched my face before pulling me in for a hug. Whispering in my ear he said, “I’m sorry for the part I’ve played in your brokenness. I see it in your eyes and it breaks my heart that I had a hand in that. You entered the world to be wild and free. The thought of what you might face in that chaotic freedom scared me. But it wasn’t my place to cage you. No one should do that to you, Hannah.”

  I wrapped my hands around him and put them on his shoulder blades as I pulled him close. He was so fragile and nothing like the strong man I wanted to defy in my younger years. We lived in our brokenness for years without speaking to each other. I realized in that moment that words were always important. That sometimes yes, they need to be unspoken, but sometimes words cannot go unspoken. They have to be shouted and let out so as not to consume everyone around them. Unspoken words will kill us.

  “I don’t want to spend your last days in silence, Daddy. I need you with me,” I said through my quiet tears.

  “Neither do I, Hannah. I need you more than you may know,” he said as he put his hand out to my mother and pulled her into our hug. I looked over my father’s shoulder and looked into Wynn’s eyes. He was leaning against the post on the porch railing with his arms crossed, watching us. I felt loved in that moment. It didn’t start from my parents embrace though. It was in his eyes as he watched me. He truly saw me and it was in that moment that I knew we were never going to be able to let each other go.

  We stayed and helped my mom for a few hours around the house and Wynn ate his first farm fresh meal. Watching him with my parents was amazing. I was seeing a new side of them and I c
ouldn’t help but believe he had something to do with it. He was filling a hole in all of our hearts that we hadn’t known was missing.

  He saw the same strength in me that my father described. Wynn, without even knowing my history and what I believed I had done, stoked the fire and brought that strength back to me. He fanned the tiny ember left with his love. Love. It was love that he held in his eyes when he looked me and I hoped that my love mirrored his when I looked at him. Because that is what I felt for him and I wanted him to know it.

  We had known each other for a short time, but since we held so much pain in our lives, love was clearer to us than other people. I compare it to when someone is surrounded by darkness and a light brightens your vision. You see the brightness and it hurts your eyes at first, but you blink a couple times and realize it wasn’t painful at all; your eyes needed a couple seconds to adjust and focus. That was what this love was. It took that moment for me to realize it, but now that everything came into focus, I only saw him. The darkness was fading.

  I stood to the side as he hugged my parents good-bye before we left, reminding them that we planned on returning the next day and a warm smile formed on my face. Without a question, he immersed himself into my life and he fit. I gave him a kiss on the cheek before we returned to the hotel to get our belongings. He smiled at me as he climbed onto his bike and put his hand over mine that wrapped around his waist. We needed to be together. I couldn’t leave his side and he couldn’t leave mine. We intertwined our lives in such an instantaneous way, but remained individuals. We weren’t losing ourselves in each other. But we were better together

  When we reached Joe’s the sun was setting. He came out to greet us and with excitement, informed us of what he did in our absence. We followed him into the cottage and found it dusted. “I know it’s just a start, but I wanted to make it more comfortable for you on your first night here.” He walked toward the room with the large bed and he waived his hand in the door. “I had the neighbor kids come by and move this mattress set in here for you. It isn’t much, but now you at least have a bed,” he said with a smile.

  I looked over at Wynn and the nervous longing he held as he looked at the bed. We both stood dumbfounded as we listened to Joe tell the story of the kids delivering the mattresses. I don't think either of us could recite the tale though. I imagine his thoughts were on the same path as mine, we were going to be together for the first time in that bed. There were many yets held in our eyes as we looked at it. Our attention came back to each other, and I saw the hesitancy and nervousness vanish from his eyes as I willed the love I had for him to show. Joe laughed at the end of his story and walked us to the bathroom, not knowing we hadn't heard any of it.

  “The water is on now and I had the tank filled out back, so you should have hot water now too. The shower doesn’t work though, so it's just baths for the time being,” he said as he pointed toward the now sparkling tub.

  “Okay,” Wynn said, turning to Joe. “Thank you for this. I’m looking forward to getting to know you and hearing stories of my family,” he said squeezing the older man’s shoulder as they turned toward the kitchen.

  Joe turned a sad expression to Wynn as he put his hand over his. “It’s a shame how things have turned out with your family. Lydia was a good girl. The last time I saw her she was eight or nine.” He looked off with distant memories as he continued. “She was a beautiful little girl and Evie loved her more than life itself. Jacob was no different. They were inseparable—all of them. It was their anniversary the night they died.”

  His eyes began to gloss as he ran his hand across the table in the kitchen. “Evie loved this place. She dreamed of having many families living here on this land with their own little adobe houses.” His voice drifted along with his thoughts. “It was her dream, and we followed in her wake. She was a force to be reckoned with that woman,” he said as he looked through the window toward the now dark sky.

  “What was my mother like?” Wynn asked waiting for Joe's response.

  “She was like any other little girl, I suppose. But she had a strong will and imagination in her. Your grandparents always wanted her to live a life that was full of creativity and possibilities. It breaks my heart how she ended up in the system as she did.” He brought his hand up to pat Wynn’s face. “There's a sorrow in your eyes and it breaks my heart again. Things were bad for Lydia and I fought like hell to get custody, but back then the state wasn’t willing to allow a single man the right to adopt. It’s still difficult now.”

  “I know. I’m thankful for what she did for me. It was because of her experience I realize now. The one good thing she did was make sure she left me with Sid if anything happened to her,” Wynn said as he looked at me. “She never spoke of my grandparents. It was like she wanted to block the memory of them out. I thought it was because she had a bad experience with them. I think now though that she did it because it hurt too much to talk about happier times.”

  Wynn took a seat at the table and rested his head in his hands. I could tell he was battling with the memories he had of his mother and the stories told to us. What happened to drive a person that was once so beautiful and free to turn into such a monster that would sexually and physically abuse her son? I knelt next to him and wrapped my arm around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder.

  Joe gave my back a pat and nodded to me as he left the cottage. He shut the door and as he did I saw the deep sadness that he held from his own years of pain. The more people I met, the more I was coming to the realization that all of us held onto our own pain and went through our own self punishment. We just chose to cope in different ways.

  Joe lived here in the middle of nowhere away from people because of his own reasons. There had to have been a falling out with Wynn’s grandparents. In Joe’s remorse he refused to push forward with life. His punishment was giving up on life. By giving up he was destroying himself as much as I was with my casual, lifeless, sexual encounters.

  I pulled Wynn’s hands to my lips and kissed each of his knuckles as he watched me with a far off expression. Wynn was punishing himself by allowing his demons to hold tight and direct his every move, caging him inside the fears in his mind. Now he faced the realization that his mother, though she did evil things, was not always that way. As if he could read my thoughts Wynn spoke. “What made her change, Hannah? Why did she do such horrible things to me? How could the person that lived her early years here in this place be the same one that haunts me every time I close my eyes?”

  I pulled my lips in and shook my head slowly. “I don’t know,” I said in a whisper, because I didn’t.

  “I want to hate her so badly, Hannah.” He raised his voice and as he stood abruptly his chair fell backwards. I couldn’t help but notice even in his act of anger he was aware of where I was and he made a point not to allow me to fall back when he jumped. “I want to hate her so fucking badly,” he said quieter with his pointer finger and thumb pressed together in a clenched fist next to his face and pressed his palm into his eye as if he could rub the memories of her away.

  He started to speak several times as his breath caught. He fought to form the words that he needed to share until at last he calmed. He said in a whisper. “She would touch me there and she wouldn’t let me finish because she said I didn’t deserve it because of how dirty I was for getting excited by her touch. How fucked up is that? How could that person be the same angelic person Joe spoke of?” he asked as he pointed with his opened hand toward the door. His hands dropped to his sides as he looked up at the ceiling for his answers.

  When he looked back at me, my chest imploded. He was breaking. His face pulled tight as he held back the tears and pain he had bottled up for so long. He pulled his lip in and on a deep breath bit his lower lip as he ran his hands through his hair, pushing it back and pulling it away from him.

  “How could she be the same smiling, beautiful little girl in those photos? How could she grow up to do the things to me that she did?” he asked
as he lowered himself in front of me. His face became more serious as he attempted to understand. “She beat me. She put me in a fucking barrel for not mowing the fucking lawn right. I cannot for the life of me connect the dots here,” he said as he put his hands in his hair again. “How could she be the offspring of such wonderful sounding people? What does that mean will happen to me?” he said in such a whisper I almost missed it. “What does that mean for me?”

  He dropped to the floor on his knees and began to rock back and forth with his arms holding him. In that moment I began to understand his ultimate fear. He was afraid of becoming the monster. He was afraid of being consumed by the same demons and letting them win. I knelt in front of him and put my hands against either side of his face. His tears hit my hands, and I felt myself break right along with him. This was the same man that held me earlier and who was my quiet strength and now I needed to be his.

  “Hey,” I said in a whisper. He looked at me with fearful eyes. “You won’t become the monster. I know you won’t. Remember, you have them in you,” I said as I looked around the room. “You just need to cling to them and forgive your mom. Something happened to her and though we both have had shit flung at us, she just might have had more. We will never know her story, but we can move forward. Remember we have many yets to come. We can’t let the past take those from us. We have more reason to cling to them. We have to forgive the past,” I whispered.

  He tilted his head in question at me. I leaned in and touched our foreheads together as I continued. “We need this for all the yets stolen from your mother, my sister, my niece or nephew. They had their yets ripped from them. So the way I see it—the only thing we can do is make sure we achieve every single one of the yets we can and enjoy every last minute. That’s how we have to look at it. We have to hold onto the minutes—the seconds even. We can’t look at time as days or months or years. But every single moment has to be ours to claim. We have to claim these moments, for us and for them. We have to break the cycle and forgive them and ourselves along the way.”