by Xyla Turner
“Maybe you should try,” Tess offered in a small voice. “I know it’s not for everyone but it really helped me to see some things in a different light. I even called my father to apologize. Do you know the man wound up apologizing to me?”
She scoffed.
“Damn.” I didn’t know what to say.
“Yeah, girl. We’re all fucked up but sometimes, you got to embrace the shit, take it by the horns and deal with it,” Tess advised. “Even if it’s dealing with your parents. What can they do? Punish you?”
I laughed at that notion and then started crying some more. I was thirty-five and never addressed the shit that I saw as a teenager with them.
Like I said, fucked up.
"Mom," I called as my sweaty palms held the bright pink covered phone.
"Nina?" the familiar voice crooned through the speaker.
Instantly the concern in her voice took me back to when I was a child.
"Why did you and Dad pretend for so long?" I came right out and asked the hard question.
There was no need in beating around the bush or acting like it wasn't true. The great thing about that was, Sylvia is my mother and the way she answered me, I found she did not go around bushes either.
"He was a selfish bastard but I hated growing up with just one parent when I was young. I thought that two parents would give my child the best chance in life, therefore I put up with it until you reached a certain age. Shit, we both did." She didn't even pause.
"You two hated each other. What kind of life was that for me?" I selfishly tried to put the blame on her. "What was I supposed to get from all the hate in the house? It was like having two robots do for you but barely show any affection for the other. I show no affection whatsoever in my life. I'm all sorts of fucked up and ..."
I paused for a moment and the breathy noise hit my ear via the receiver before I realized I even sighed.
"I'm not blaming you," I clarified. "I guess I just wanted to know."
An uncomfortable silence remained on the phone as my mother seemed to gather her thoughts, wits or maybe more excuses. I couldn’t be sure why she was so silent, until she breathed over the phone.
"You're right."
It felt like the entire floor fell from under my feet and thank God I was sitting down because I would have nearly lost my damn mind. My palms grew sweatier, my head felt the pressure of an impending truck trying to roar its way through my mind and my heart rate was accelerated.
Had I waited all my life to hear those words? That I was right and they were the ones that made the mistake.
"Say what?" I asked for clarification.
"We made that arrangement and never thought about how it would impact you, even though we did it for you." She exhaled and then her voice hitched. "I didn't want you to not have a father. I thought I sacrificed for you when all I did was create more issues."
Mom was all out sobbing as the crazy reality hit her.
"No wonder you hate me..." She kept crying.
"I don't hate you, Mom." My face grew damp from my tear ducts overflowing and my hand that held the phone began to shake almost violently. This caused me to put the phone down and put it on speaker. "I don't hate you."
"There was a hardness in your eyes that turned to ice towards us as the years went by. If there was one thing that me and your father actually agreed on was that once you left the house, you would probably never come back. None of us would, for that matter." Mom provided some more clarity.
That was an interesting way to put the thing we called a family. We'd all be gone, as if I signed the same contract they did and was serving my life sentence, never to return. That was how I felt and at the end of the day, none of us had returned. Probably even emotionally, we had not revisited the place we all called hell. If we called it that, I was raised in it. It still didn't seem fair but what manual do parents get when they have kids. I was a smart woman and blaming my parents for my shit was more than fifty shades of fucked up. It was cruel and deflecting. I was the common denominator in all events of my life.
Always had been.
"Mom," I said after I could speak without the tears freely flowing. "We should do lunch soon. I have some things to clear up here, but I want us to meet up."
Her breath hitched more as I could almost see the tears falling from her face, "I-I t-think that woul-ld be g-great."
"Okay, Mom. I'll call you next week, so we can set up a date and thank you for talking to me about this. It's provided me with some sort of solace but also some closure," I explained.
"Me too," she said. "Me too. Talk to you s-soon."
The phone screen went to black and the fresh scent of freedom, like an open meadow and endless dandelions poured into the room. It almost seemed like I could do anything, take on anyone and conquer my greatest fears. I was so free, my hand picked up the phone and called my father.
The phone number was disconnected. I called back to make sure I dialed the right number and there was only an operator telling me the person wasn’t taking calls. I knew Mom didn't have the number and that was the only number I'd had for the man. Therefore, I went about it the old-fashioned way. Gathering my black book from college, I found my father's address in California and I wrote the man a letter.
There was no guarantee he would respond back to me or even acknowledge my existence, but it was worth a try. My goal was clarity and though my mom provided one aspect of it to me, I still wanted to hear from my father. It was almost juvenile, since I'd lived my life in a way that I didn't have many fucks to give but yet, here I was broken almost or on the verge of having a breakdown and I wanted to go to the source. My parents. The origin of where I first began. Where I learned what love was or what it wasn't. All I knew, was that I didn't know what love really meant.
Chapter Ten
Knox:
My mind kept playing over the conversation I'd had with J.D. during his unexpected visit to my office yesterday. I knew it was no coincidence because Mills’ mouth was as loose as a tramp on drugs. The whole family and town probably knew we had an altercation that led to fighting and I needed to prepare myself for people's bullshit but I wasn't in the fucking mood. J.D. was the first and I was ready for his ass.
My company was ready to start surveying the properties in Evans County. Just as I was about to confirm with the foreman on the phone, J.D. came into my small office space with no invitation and sat down.
"Pops sent you?" I asked.
"Nope." My older brother nodded his response and took off his Stetson. "Just wanted to run something past you.”
Before I could say anything, he went on to give his diatribe.
"Tess, uh, she has a funny relationship with her dad. In her and her mother's mind, he wasn't there for any significant moment in their life. Work was his first love, then his wife, and finally his daughter. This was so bad that his wife divorced him and after missing another graduation, Tess disowned the man. When Tess and I first started to date, she reached out to him because I encouraged her to make amends. According to the father, he felt like he was there for them because he provided for her and her mother. That was his way of showing love. Tess nor her mother could understand that until we left our marriage counseling session last Monday. The coordinator had us reading a book called The Five Love Languages and he emphasized the importance of learning how the other one gives love. My love language is quality time. Hence, why it makes all the sense in the world for me to move to New York. Tess, oddly enough and very much like her dad, has the dominant love language of acts of service."
He paused for a moment and then continued as I stared at the toughest guy I knew just tell me he was in therapy.
"This was significant for us because it explained some of our behavior. The why's, how's, what we're willing to do or not do. It was a little fucking weird but I dug it. It makes sense. Anyway, I thought the shit was good, so I'm passing it along. Figured, it'll help on your quest to find the unanswered questions you refuse to address
and well," J.D. paused again. "I hope it also leads you to the place of forgiveness. After our session, Tess called her dad and apologized. The fucked-up part, he was apologizing to her too. We met up this weekend and I've never seen my girl so happy. I make her happy, sure, but closing a chapter to old wounds that would have probably surfaced again, makes sense. I could see, she was happy."
J.D. stood up and lifted his Stetson to his head and lightly pushed it down so the Northern wind wouldn't blow it off.
"Brother," he said with a nod and dropped a small book on the table. "Be seeing ya."
Then he walked out.
Here, I thought I was ready for the motherfucker and I was not.
Not in the least.
The book seemed too tiny to be life changing like J.D. suggested but his words had altered my thinking long enough to pick up the phone and find the number with the name that read, don't call this bitch. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t drunk when I programmed that title instead of her name into my phone. It would also be a lie that I was never tempted to call the woman who left in the middle of the night from our home and escaped like a refugee from a third-world country. Nobody would tell me where my wife ran off to, who she ran off with and kept me in the dark for years. I'd searched on the internet and everywhere. She'd fucking left and didn't say goodbye, fuck you or even an explanation.
So, no, her name was not to be mentioned and no, our dead daughter was never to be brought up again. But J.D. and that fucking book made it all come back. It wasn't really the book but the forgiveness factor. Deep down, I wanted to hold on to all the pain, anger, shame and confusion. I never wanted to forget it because that shit ripped me to fucking pieces. Those emotions served as was my shield, my anchor and to date, they kept me safe.
But it didn't.
I'd fallen for a woman and instead of embracing that, I pushed her away over and over again. She drove me fucking crazy and was under my skin in the worst way, yet I was unable to hold on to her.
Would I be able to hold on to anyone?
"Lennox?" The small voice called me by my government name.
Clearing my throat, I answered, "Y-yeah."
"My God!" she breathed but said nothing else.
I checked the phone to see if she was still on the line and the screen still illuminated that the call was live.
Fuck, what was I doing calling her?
"Look, this is a mistake," I rushed out. "I---"
"No, no... You've been on my mind and I've been needing to talk to ya," Lily urged. "Please, Lennox."
I owed the woman nothing but in this case, my mental health was at stake. I was on the fucking verge of losing everything: my family, my business, my life and dare I say, my woman.
"Look, I called because I wanted to know was I that bad? As a man, as a husband, even as a father. Was I that bad?" For once, I said the words out loud and not just in my head.
They were always in my head. Every fucking day, every time I saw a couple or a child, my first thought is always, was I that bad?
"Oh God, no," Lily rushed out. "Swear to everything that is holy, you were the mold, Lennox. You were the cream of the goddamn crop. It was me, and I knew that. You thought you had a jewel but I wasn't anything special. Never was, but since I had you, I had everything. You never knew I suffered from depression. Fucked up, my whole goddamn family. After Lauren, after our baby died, I couldn't handle looking into your eyes and seeing hers. I couldn't handle that shit and I started to spiral." The hurt in her voice was so poignant, it was a direct hit to my heart. Tears panged my eyes as the reality of our baby girl passing away so early, nearly broke us individually but definitely broke us as a couple.
"You would have fought for us but I wasn't worth it, Lennox. I wasn't. You weren't ever that bad. That would be me."
My head was spinning as her words flowed to my ears, through my head and connected with my heart. All these years and the vial things that I had thought, were not so. I sensed an overwhelming feeling as if a tidal wave of emotion was about to take me under. I fought back but it was too much.
"Lily," my voice hitched. "Why didn't you tell me? You never said a goddamn word."
"Because I know you, Lennox Timms. You would have convinced me I was wrong, calmed me down temporarily and I would have continued to live in the misery of knowing I wasn't for you. You always were a fighter and even with the odds staked against you, you’d never stop swinging."
I contemplated my shoes but said nothing more. The woman was right, and I would have fought to the death for our marriage. I would have prayed to God, even made our asses go to church. Shit, I would have done therapy like J.D. but I wouldn't have let her go. Ever. She was my wife, and I took my vows seriously until the day she left our home. Six months later, divorce papers were delivered to my door with her signatures on it already and red sign here stickers on every other page. The cause was irreconcilable differences with the return address of a law firm. I held on to those for three years. My thinking was if she wanted a divorce, she'd need to tell me to my face. She didn't and never planned to.
She was dead to me and that was how she wanted it.
"You doing alright?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm doing great." I could almost hear her smiling. "Really good. How about you?"
"Good," I answered. "I heard you have some kids.”
"Yes, I have a daughter and a son," she said with an edge of pride in her voice. "They're both adopted and Harold, my husband, is good with them. I couldn't go through another ordeal like we did and keep my sanity. Harold understood but he always wanted kids, so…."
"Good to hear." I gave nothing away. "Well, I'll let you go."
"Wait, Lennox. Uh, I need you to forgive me please," Lily begged. "I won't blame it on my age but I was not in the best of places. However, I still need your forgiveness. If you can, I mean." Her voice lost its vigor momentarily.
Had I called her for forgiveness or to cuss her ass out. I hadn't before so what made this any different? I'd called her because I wanted to know why. When Tess understood why her father did what he did, she was able to see it wasn't done out of malice or neglect. It was done from his love language. His being a provider was him showing that he loved them, but for them that wasn't enough.
I won't lie and say that I thought Lily left for a real reason. For years, I summed her up to be a selfish bitch. More importantly, a coward who didn't stick by her words. Particularity the ones that said, for better or for worse.
However, I hadn't known she was depressed like she said. How did I miss that? Why didn't I see the signs? This brought me back to my original question, was I really that bad?
"Lily, I won't deny I created you to be one of Satan's spawns but you never told me. Left me out in the cold and I've only grown to hate you and myself, really. As fucked as it was, I always blamed myself that you left. I'd call you weak but then I’d think it was really me who was actually weak..." I sighed since I wasn't getting to the point. "I do forgive you, Lily. I wish you all the things that I wasn't able to give you. I hope you've found them and that you won't ever have to run away again."
There was nothing else I had to say since the pressure in my chest was no longer there and the weight on my shoulders seemed to lift. Not only was I a free man but I was the lightest free man I knew.
I could hear her soft cries over the phone but the truth be told, we probably both needed a good cleansing. She caught me up on the missing pieces of her life and I told her there was somebody that I had yet to claim. Lily, to my surprise, encouraged me to seek Nina out and make it right. Especially since my love interest didn't take my shit. Lily said that was the best part.
The two of us shared a laugh and if someone would have told me that I'd be laughing with Ms. Lily Dunn, now Simpson, I would have probably popped them right across the jaw with my fist. Well, I sort of did with Mills. That also reminded me that I needed to make that shit right too.
Fuck, I had a lot of shit to make right.
Sunday dinner couldn't have come fast enough since I found myself going around trying to fix the fucked-up shit I'd created in my life. The urge to clean up my act took over like a mouse with cheese. I poured the liquor down the drain, hired Ms. Ida to help me clean the place, fixed the doors on the house and decided to put it up for sale. I bought it when we got married and out of pure stubbornness, I'd refused to give it up. It seemed like the last thing I had at that moment in time before everything went to shit.
Since Ms. Ida helped me clean, I invited her over for Sunday dinner. Pops wouldn't be hell bent on forgiving me for that but maybe he could for some of the other shit.
The house smelled like biscuits, wood and Pine Sol. It was a familiar smell that put me right at home. Pops loved to use the pine cleaner; he'd said it reminded him of his childhood. Timers were already going off in the distant part of the kitchen alerting the old man that something needed to be taken out of the oven. As I walked down the hall through the living room, to get to the kitchen, I saw Pops hunched over the oven pulling out one of his pies.
"Pumpkin or sweet potato?" I said in greeting.
Pops flinched but carefully put down the pie before he started in on me. "Ah, you finally decided to come see your old man? Waiting for me to be buried, is it?"
"Hey Pops," I said without addressing his drama.
"You're early, I'm still cooking," he noted in response.
"Wanted to talk to you before it got uh, crowded." I sat down at the counter that outlined the kitchen, yet opened it up to see the dining room.
His eyes held mine for a moment, then he shrugged one of his bulky shoulders and said, "Say your peace."
He was listening, I knew, while continuing to cook for his family like he always did on Sunday. The raw chicken was marinating in a large bowl, the potatoes were already peeled and sliced and the asparagus stalks were on the George Foreman Grill. The grease from the deep fryer began to sizzle after Pops tested its heat by sprinkling water in the large container.