Emotionally Bulletproof--Scott's Story (Book 1)

by David Allen

  After he hung up on Jerry, Scott pulled on the phone cord a couple of times. He knew he was procrastinating making the call home. He felt like it was the same with Alaska and his parents, no matter how far he managed to get away from home. Whether it was the tropics or a different state, something seemed to always draw him back: an accident, a connection, something. It was like he was on a massive cord, and no matter how far he’d run to escape, he’d always be pulled back to confront what he was running from.

  With a deep breath, he lifted the receiver and dialed the number. As usual, his dad answered.

  “Hello?” He sounded like he had just woke up.

  “Uh, hi, Dad. This is Scott.”

  “Oh. Hi.” His dad’s voice was brisk. “What’s up?”

  “I’m doing quite a bit better, Dad. I think I’m ready to fly back now.”

  “Oh, really?” his dad sounded a little annoyed and surprised. “Didn’t you just get there two days ago?”

  Scott took a breath. “No, Dad, I’ve been here almost a week now.”

  “Oh, I must have lost track of time.” His dad sounded like he was writing something, “Call me back in two hours, and I’ll tell you when to go to the airport. I just need to call the airlines. I’m assuming you want me to buy the ticket?”

  Scott felt his face flush. “I can pay you when I get back, Dad. I’ll—”

  “Forget it, Scott. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” His dad’s voice was cutting.

  “I will, Dad, I made the money to come out here—”

  “Just call back in two hours.” The line went dead.

  Scott heaved a breath and banged the receiver down. His dad always made him feel so small and worthless. He had the money! He turned as he heard a noise.

  “Everything okay, Scott?” John stood in the hall behind him, a look of concern on his face.

  “Oh yeah. My dad’s making my tickets home now.” Scott began to turn away, dejected.

  “What is it? I think I’ll understand.” John walked out of the hall and put a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “I really do think I might.”

  Scott hesitated, then turned back, frustration in his face. “I just can’t understand what my dad’s problem is. He always puts me down.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled his wallet out. “Here, let me give you some money for letting me stay here.” He began to pull a wad of 20s from its folds.

  “Stop, Scott, don’t be ridiculous.” John held both hands up. “I won’t take any of your money. I’m glad you came.

  Save that money so you can come back again.” John shook his head. “Now, you just stick that back in your pocket and don’t let me see it again.”

  Scott replaced his wallet in his pocket at his uncle’s prodding. “It’s – It’s just my dad just insulted me about not being able to pay for my ticket. I can’t help it that the return money I had saved was used for sending me here.” Scott sat down on the couch suddenly. “I don’t know what to do. I’m dreading going home so much. I have so much there I just want to leave behind.”

  John sat on the couch across from Scott quietly. “This may sound weird, but I want to tell you something very important.” He paused. “When I was your age, I followed my brother Matthew and left home. I couldn’t stand it there. I hated my dad so much.” He paused, eyes misting at the memory. “It was a hard time, but a certain man told me some advice that changed my life, and this is what he said.” John’s eyes were bright now as he explained. “I was telling him how much I hated my dad, and that I was running away from my problems, basically. He told me, ‘John, embrace your pain, stop running from it, you’ll be a better man for it.’”

  John turned to Scott now. “You may be trying to escape from your past, but when you do that, it will always catch up with you and pull you down. I believe the reason you are going home is so that you can face your demons, and conquer them, so that you can embrace your weaknesses and make them into strengths.” He looked at Scott with intensity. “Embrace them.” He reached out a hand and took Scott’s in a firm grip. “Scott, I love you for my brother’s sake.” His hand shook slightly. “I want you to come back and visit me, and when you do, I don’t want it to be because you’re running from something. I want it to be because you want to do some shark diving with me.” His face suddenly split into a wide smile, “You hear what I’m saying?”

  Scott nodded. The idea was strange. Embrace your pain? He didn’t want to do that! “Why should I embrace my pain? Logically, I want to get as far from it as possible.”

  “Because it’s the only way you can truly heal from it. If you hide it, it will resurface and sabotage your life.” John looked back at Scott evenly. “Trust someone who has had to learn that the hard way.”

  “Who told you that?” Scott cocked his head.

  “Well, if you must know, it was a certain man I think you actually know.” John smiled.

  “It’s not Pastor Tim, is it?” John nodded. Scott gave a shaky laugh. “It seems like something strange he’d say.”

  “He’s a wise man, Scott.” John had a serious expression on his face.

  Scott looked down and away, and nodded, “I know. It’s just I have a lot of pain to embrace then,” he said huskily.

  “It’s worth it, Scott. When you embrace your pain, it allows those wounds to heal, and it makes you stronger.”

  Scott nodded. “Thanks, Uncle John. You’ve been really good to me. I want to come back and go shark diving with you, too.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The 747’s wheels bounced and rolled as the plane touched down onto the runway. Scott peered out the window at the short trees that raced by the edge of the tarmac. Anchorage, Alaska. His dad would be waiting. Scott breathed a heavy breath. He already felt a million years removed from the tropics, even though he had just been in Guam that night before. He remembered waving to his uncle and aunt and watching Ruth wipe a tear from her eye as he disappeared down the ramp. Would he ever see them again?

  Scott felt the cool fall air rush into the plane as the door opened. “Currently 59 degrees,” the stewardess had said. He shivered. He had grown accustomed to the 80-degree weather of the islands.

  As Scott emerged from the plane he saw his dad, Robert Calloway, MD. He was standing tall and in a leather jacket, arms folded across his chest and a tie showing below the expensive leather.

  “Hi, son.” His dad stepped forward and caught Scott in a sideways hug. “Glad to see you.” Scott shivered just a little bit. “Looks like the islands made you soft.”

  “I know.” Scott looked down at his tanned legs sticking from his khaki shorts. “I forgot that the end of August was cool up here.” He held his arm up next to his dad’s. “See the sun difference.

  His dad’s white wrist and forearm contrasted heavily with Scott’s tanned and freckled arm. His dad had to pull up his sleeve to compare.

  “You’ll probably get skin cancer,” Robert grunted. “C’mon, let’s get your bags.”

  The two headed to the baggage claim and waited with the crowd.

  “So how was your stay at John’s?” Robert asked.

  “Oh, good. I spent a lot of time of with a girl I met there though, so I wasn’t there a lot. They were really nice to me,” Scott finished and looked up at his dad.

  He nodded, expressionless. His thinning hair left a bald spot shining. “I just wondered if they were bothered.” Little lines in Robert’s face showed as he scowled. “Do I need to write them a check for your stay, Scott?”

  Scott shook his head. “No, they said nothing of the kind. I didn’t hardly cost them anything anyways. I tried to give them $100 when I left, but John refused, and told me to save it so I could come back and snorkel with him.”

  “And your hospital visit?” Robert watched Scott reach out and heave a bag from the carousel.

  “Doctor didn’t do anything other than just give me a cream for my foot. I would be surprised if it cost much, if anything at all.” Scott set the suitcase down with a
heave. “Let’s go Dad, I have my bag.” Scott didn’t like how his dad treated him like he was so naïve.

  “I’m still going to write them a check.” Robert scowled. “I don’t want them telling tales of us.”

  “They wouldn’t tell any tales, Dad, I know them.” Scott protested. “I had a lot of fun with them.”

  “A lot of fun, eh?” Robert shook his head. “You haven’t lived as long as me, Scott, and if I know anything from my 12 years of college, it’s that money is very important to people.”

  That ended that. Scott knew better than to argue with his dad about his college experience. He sat quietly in the front seat as his dad pulled out of the airport. Scott watched as the Ted Stevens International Airport sign went past his right side, rows of petunias and pansies planted around its base.

  “There’s already some fall colors in the trees,” commented Scott, glancing at several tinges of yellow in the passing birches. “It’s only August 21.”

  Robert nodded and grunted he pulled into a post office. “Better get that check mailed off.” He pulled an envelope from the door and wrote out a check for $300.

  Scott watched. In the memo, he wrote: For distant relative inconvenience. Scott turned and stared out the window, frustrated.

  “You stand in line to mail this, Scott. I think that’s fair since you’re the reason for it.” Robert reached across the seat and handed the pre-addressed envelope and check to Scott. “Make sure to get it certified. I’ll be waiting here in the truck.”

  Scott opened the door and stepped out of the truck, anger and frustration seething inside him.

  “Do you have enough money to mail it?”

  “Yes, Dad, it’s not a problem.” Scott closed the pickup door and walked into the post office. He knew better than to ask his dad for postage money.

  An hour later, Scott and his dad were nearing Wasilla. They had talked about the economy and the newfangled Internet. Scott had told his dad some stories from the Marshall Islands. It was good to talk with his dad, despite his rude comments. He felt that his dad was genuinely glad to see him, as long as Scott kept him in a good frame of reference.

  “So I suppose you’re done messing around and are gonna get a job so you can go to school, then?”

  “I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet, honestly, Dad,” Scott replied. His face was pressed against the window. “The change is so sudden. I’m still trying to figure out what I’m going to do now. I was expecting to be in the Marshall Islands for two more years.”

  “Well, you flaked out on that. Make sure you don’t flake out on life.”

  At home, Scott greeted his mother. He thought she looked older than last time he’d seen her. It must be the extra gray hair, Scott mused.

  “You’re back just in time.” She hugged him again. “You’re like a board, Scott, loosen up.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Scott mumbled. It wasn’t that pleasant to have her squeezing him.

  She was still holding on to him at arm’s length as she talked. “We’re having a family dinner tomorrow night so everyone can see you.” She beamed at him. “Your Uncle Owen and Aunt Tiffany will be coming over, along with your brother, Phillip.”

  Scott stepped back, discreetly releasing himself from his mom’s hold. “Since when has Owen been ‘Uncle?’” He twitched his fingers like quotation marks.

  “You better watch your mouth, Scott, before you find yourself in a bad spot,” Robert warned menacingly. He had returned from the kitchen with a shot glass of whiskey between his fingers.

  “I’m just asking,” Scott protested.

  “And I’m just telling you,” Robert replied evenly. “Owen was best man at my wedding, and he’s still my best friend. If you want to stay under my roof, in my house,” Robert’s voice rose in a crescendo, “you better not so much as look at him wrong. Are you picking up what I’m laying down?” He glanced darkly at Scott before draining the shot in a single gulp.

  His mom glanced at Scott apologetically, wringing her hands. “Scott, why don’t you take your suitcase up to your room and then bring me any dirty laundry you want washed.”

  “And bring a quarter, too, because laundry service isn’t free around here anymore, either.” Robert slammed his shot glass down on the counter and reached for the remote that sat by his favorite recliner. “Time for sports.” He sighed and sank into his chair, shooting a sideways glance at Scott. “Don’t keep your mom waiting.”

  Scott hurried upstairs. It felt like dark walls had sprung around him and he was being suffocated by the gloom. He felt a familiar vault door swing shut across his heart. His dad’s words bore into his mind, and there was no opening that vault door now, he knew. No one in this house knew the combination, not even him. It had been over a year since he had felt this stony hardness. He hadn’t needed it in the Marshall Islands. It had taken him a while to unlock this mysterious vault door over his heart, and now it had slammed back shut on him. He had developed this hardness as a child. It was normal back then. He had thought everyone must be this way. His dad telling him he was no good and yelling at him daily, while his older brother met with constant approval. Scott winced physically as he stepped into his room. Maybe his heart wasn’t completely locked from the pain yet. This house with so many memories. He turned in the door to face his brother’s room directly across the hall.

  The door was open and the lights were on. It was neatly cleaned and rows of Star Wars figurines stood in perfect order across the dresser. A poster on the door read, “The Force is with you.” Scott stepped across the hall and into the open door. A picture as large as a small poster was hanging above the figurines. It was of his brother, Phillip, in a cap and gown shaking a smiling Robert’s hand. Gold letters boldly embossed a title across the bottom. Phillip Robert Calloway receiving a diploma for a bachelor of science in psychology.

  The picture was arranged so the lamp shone directly onto it, giving it a prominent glow. Scott sighed and stepped back across the hall and into his own room. No such picture adorned his wall. His room was dark and dusty. A stack of boxes and some buckets blocked half the room.

  He flipped the light on and discovered that two cats where sleeping on his bed while a cat box sat in the corner. Didn’t his parents remember he was allergic to cats? Scott angrily shooed the fat cats from his bed and stifled a sneeze. He had to get the window open. He cranked it open and hurried into the hall for fresher air.

  Downstairs, he met his mom in the laundry room with a small armload of clothes. “This is everything, Mom. I didn’t bring much back.” He laid the pile on the washer.

  “I’m sorry about your father, dear.” She looked flustered as she nudged the laundry room door and lowered her voice. “Your father is very easily angered when anyone says anything about Owen at all, since he loaned him that money.” She shook her head. “Whenever I bring it up, he just gets angry and watches TV.” She turned and glanced out the door discreetly. “I’m worried too, because he’s been drinking a lot recently.”

  “I don’t care, Mom. I don’t want to get involved.” Scott’s voice was flat. “I’m just going to try to stay out of his way.” He turned, frustrated. “Why is there a cat box in my room?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, our cat box used to be in here, but your dad moved it so he could have room for a new safe.” She touched a large metal box as she spoke. “I couldn’t talk him out of it.”

  Scott glanced at the polished silver safe curiously. “Why did he get that?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Foolish, if you ask me, but he says he needs it for business purposes.”