Learning to Cry

by Christopher C. Payne

  I will never forget a second of that night. I remember every single detail, the smallest items are so vividly clear. My life might have ended, as well but my stint in Hell had only just begun. Maybe Melissa and I are more alike than I realize. I guess this is something I will now never know for sure.

  Living at Mom’s

  Melissa

  Melissa hated her father. Was it possible to openly detest another human being as much as she hated that man? He was an asshole. Everything about him was putrid. She had done nothing wrong that weekend. She had helped out with her sisters, she did chores, she came home when he asked, and he attacked her. She hated him with every fiber of her being.

  She went with her mother and spent the rest of the weekend at a friend’s cabin. She was now home, lying in bed, waiting for her eyes to shut but she couldn’t seem to find peace even when she closed them. Her hands shook, as they had been since she got into the car that horrid night. Her mom and her friends all told her she should call Child Welfare Services. Her father was out of control, he was an alcoholic, and he needed to be put in his place. Life was too short to be mentally or physically tortured by another human being.

  As she lay there typing away on her phone, she got a text from Bryan. He was her cousin’s friend, and she’d met him the previous week. He asked her to come over later and wondered if she could get out of the house. That was the easy part. She escaped from her mother’s new house anytime she wanted. Most of the time, she never got caught. Her bedroom was downstairs, and her mother’s was upstairs. Sneaking out was simpler than ever before.

  She replied “sure.” She would find a way to hook up with him. He wanted her to come over and hang out, and she could just climb through the window. She knew Bryan would have some pot, and maybe he would have some other stuff, as well. It didn’t matter as long as she did something. She was freaking out just lying there, and it would be impossible for her to sleep. She continued to hear the voices. They arrived about the same time her father attacked her, and it was clear they weren’t leaving.

  In the past, the voices came with her headaches. They were forceful and loud at times, a throbbing pain inside her skull that beat rhythmically over and over again. This time was different. Her head hurt that evening, the voices came, but as her headache subsided, the voices remained in full force. It was as if they’d found a good campsite, set up their tent, pounded in their stakes and were staying for a while. The odd thing was, if there were only one odd thing about this entire situation, they now talked to her instead of just amongst themselves.

  She had not answered them back yet, but they grew angrier with each passing hour. They started screaming at her a few hours ago, demanding she listen to them. She still tried to block them out, but she didn’t feel like she had the ability to hold them off much longer. It was as if the Hoover Dam were cracking, and she was only a tiny little girl digging in her heals, doing her best to keep the mammoth concrete structure from toppling over. What could one feeble, adolescent girl do?

  Melissa had seen the Hoover Dam in The Transformers. Now if she were a Transformer, she might have a chance at something. She would probably choose to be the little yellow one. He was pretty cool and still had the ability to kick some royal ass when he wanted to. He didn’t have much of a temper, though, and she knew that was where they parted ways.

  The voices told her it was ok to have a drink and that her mother was probably already in bed. They encouraged her to sneak out of the house tonight and told her how much better off she would be if she would smoke a couple of joints with Bryan. He seemed like a good guy. What did it matter if she snuck out to see him anyway? She had now named the voices. There were three of them. They bickered amongst themselves as often as they talked to her. She wondered if that was why it took them so long to address her directly. Maybe they had been so enamored with themselves they had forgotten she was even around. There were two guys and one girl. The girl was feisty and held her own. One of the boys was very mean, and the other one was actually a pretty cool guy.

  The girl was named Dana, the good boy was named Mike, and the bad one was named Scott. Melissa actually didn’t know how she came to know their names. She just woke up the previous morning, and they had names. She wondered if that was what it was like to have a baby. One second you are with your husband, in the hospital, giving birth, and the next moment there is this new little child in your arms, and he or she needs a name.

  Everyone needs a name. A name is such an important part of who you are. She wondered how or why people sometimes changed their names. Prince was the best. He changed his name to nothing. Just a symbol. Why would you want people to call you “The artist formally known as Prince?” It didn’t make sense. It was almost as if his name was still Prince, but it wasn’t quite the same because it was “formally Prince.” It made no sense at all.

  While the three voices had bickered for a while, they now agreed that Melissa should take the chance and sneak out. Odds are she would not get caught, and it would provide her a much needed distraction from, well, them. That seemed illogical and somewhat ironic, but that was the outcome. It was as if they were actively encouraging her to escape them. Now if only Melissa could get her mother to do the same thing she might be in business.

  She finally said “fine” and realized she had said the word out loud and directed it at the three voices holding court inside her head. She heard a thunderous round of applause as all three clapped as hard as they could and yelled at the top of their lungs. She grabbed her skull quickly as the pounding erupted as if Notre Dame were striking noon inside her skull. The sudden image of Quasimodo and the thought that she was commiserating with a freak of nature made her sad.

  Melissa already had on her jeans and shirt. She grabbed a jacket off the floor, put on her tennis shoes, and opened the window. The pounding had subsided slightly as the applause finished. She said, “Thanks, guys,” to nobody in particular as she launched her right foot up to the window sill.

  At least in this house the windows were much newer than the old house. She thought there was a positive to everything. This window actually slid up and was very smooth. At her last house the window frames were aluminum, and they slide from side to side. They screeched so loudly as they moved it was as if they screamed in protest every time she opened one of them. She pulled her left leg up and flipped around before dropping to the ground. She landed on a bush again. It was now slightly flat from her frequent window exits.

  How often did one have to sneak out of a house to flatten a bush? She wasn’t sure, but good voice Mike chimed in it must be more than 10. Damn, she hadn’t been living in this house that long had she? Had she really snuck out 10 times? What the hell was Mike doing answering her questions? God, the circles spinning in her head drove her crazy. She was suddenly dizzy and slipped on the grass, falling to her knees. It was dark outside already, and she felt slightly nauseated.

  She stumbled forward before finally catching her balance on a tree. She got her bearings back.

  “It’s a good thing that Bryan doesn’t live that far away,” Mike said.

  “Oh my God, isn’t that the truth?” Melissa whispered out loud.

  She felt better, and after a couple blocks she had her control back. She walked the next 10 minutes and approached Bryan’s house from the back side. Even though she’d never been there before, this house looked exactly as he’d described it.

  Luckily, his bedroom was on the bottom floor, as well. Scott chuckled to himself at the thought. So many parents build their houses with a reverse floor plan just to enjoy the views, never thinking that it also gives their children the freedom to come and go as they please. Melissa tapped on the window, she told the gang to please be quiet, and waited for Bryan. He pushed open the blinds, and she felt relieved now, knowing for sure that this was his house.

  He helped her through the window, and as she came in the other side, she fell smack on top of him. He laughed hysterically. He’d obviously started the eve
ning well before Melissa arrived. His room smelled like a mixture of an ashtray and dirty athletic socks. Clothes were strewn everywhere, on the dressers, hanging on the corner of the mirror, on the bed – everywhere. He managed to form the words, “My mom doesn’t come down here much,” as he slurred each one, speaking very slowly.

  He handed her a half-smoked joint and a lighter. She fired it up. Scott applauded in the background as she inhaled deeply, feeling relaxed from the first familiar puff. How good it felt getting high. She wondered why this stuff was illegal. It didn’t seem right. It wasn’t like it was addictive, and it couldn’t be any worse than the stuff they put in cigarettes. Plus, it just made things seem more relaxed, calmer. Like everything was ok.

  They spent the next hour smoking a couple of joints, and he gave her a little white pill. Even though she had no idea what it was, she popped it in her mouth and swallowed it dry. It wasn’t like it was going to kill her. At least her friends were finally quiet, and she felt like she could rest. She was so relaxed. But her mouth was dry, and she was pretty damn hungry. Finally, she insisted Bryan go up and get some water and food. He reluctantly followed her orders. He was worried about his parents still being awake, but that made no sense. Didn’t all of the old people go to bed early? Melissa actually had no idea what time it was.

  Time seemed to be creeping by without any notice. It slipped in and out of focus, and the next thing she knew a glass of water and some Doritos were next to her. She downed the water in one swift gulp, inhaled a few handfuls of Doritos, and jumped on the bed. She just needed to stretch out. She was so tired and the room was spinning faster than her eyes could manage. Little trails of lights zipped around in circles, jumping from one wall to the next. If she hadn’t been so tired, it might have been pretty cool to watch.

  Melissa suddenly woke up at 4:42 a.m. Now that was damn lucky. Had her mother gone downstairs and discovered she wasn’t in her bedroom, her day would have been hell. Her head hurt way too much to deal with her mom screaming at this point. She just needed to get home. Strangely, she was completely naked. She didn’t remember taking her clothes off, and she wouldn’t have done anything with Bryan. She didn’t think so, anyway. Jesus, she felt like she was losing her mind.

  She got dressed and jumped out the window. She found it strangely eerie that it was still dark outside. The grass was damp, and she almost fell again. She had to get better at navigating windows or she would find her head impaled on one of those little plant stakes one day. It almost seemed like every piece of foliage was new and had to be staked. Hadn’t any of those damn things been around for a few years?

  She stumbled to the main road and walked right up to a police car that was sitting at the stop sign. She freaked out at first. She then attempted to gather her senses and walked behind it toward the other side of the road. She heard the car door creak as it opened and ignored the words as the policeman said, “Miss, can you come here for a minute?”

  She kept walking, hoping he would just leave her alone. But, sadly, she heard the plastic soles of his shoes on the pavement as he started walking, and he again said, “MISS, I SAID CAN YOU COME HERE FOR A MINUTE?” He then added, “Stop now, please.”

  At that point she stopped. What had she done? She was on her way home from a friend’s, and she hadn’t done anything wrong. It was like another faction of the senior citizen patrol harassing her for no reason. She heard him say something about a curfew and that she was out after hours. She told him it was none of his business, and he somehow managed to get her in the back seat of his car. She vaguely remembered telling him her age which was probably stupid. Shouldn’t she have lied? Where the hell were Scott, Dana and Mike when she needed them? Assholes.

  Melissa gave him her address, and he started up his car to drive her home. At least she didn’t have to walk. She wasn’t feeling very well to begin with. He pulled up in front of her house, stopping on the street and walked to the front door without even saying a word. Melissa laughed out loud as she thought how difficult it was going to be getting her mom up. Her mom was barely awake enough to drive them to school. At this hour she would be sound asleep. Probably not alone either. She snuck her boyfriend in and out all the time. Like Melissa didn’t know. The only question was which boyfriend was showing up on which night. Who was the slut in the house?

  After several minutes, the door opened. Then for several more, the policeman and her mother stood talking. Her mother with a stiff erect backbone, there gawking with her mouth open, and her face tensed with displeasure. Her hair looked like somebody had electrocuted her and attempted to flatten it down with a pair of hands. Melissa wondered what color robe her mother had on. It seemed pink, but both of the sleeves were brown on the edges as if she had been digging in the backyard recently. How long had it been since she’d washed that robe?

  Finally, the policemen opened the door and helped her out of the car by her arm. Melissa stood up and, likely from the rush of blood going to her head, dropped to her knees. She almost pulled the policeman down with her. She vomited all over his shoes and on the sidewalk as she heard him yell, “Holy shit!”

  He danced and lifted his feet. But it wasn’t fast enough as a good portion of the first spray hit him full on. It looked like it might have splattered on his pants, as well. He yelled at her now, and she thought he might have said, “You little bitch,” but she wasn’t sure.

  Her mother just stood in the doorway and finally asked him if she could get him a towel or something to wipe off. He yelled back, “No,” got in his car, and drove away. Melissa definitely had not made a good impression on that police officer. Her mother screamed, but Melissa couldn’t really hear her. She stood up and headed to the shower. Who really cared what her mother said anyway? There was no way she was going to school today. She needed a shower and some sleep. It had been a long-ass night.

  She heard Scott laughing in the background. He laughed and told her how cool that was. He got a kick out of her puking on the idiot cop. What a stiff. Standing there in a pool of puke, wearing his little blue outfit, feeling all important. Even Mike said he bet the officer wished he would have just let her walk home on her own. Sometimes it is better to leave things be even if somebody is breaking the law.

  What kind of stupid law is a curfew anyway? If the parents can’t control the kids well enough to keep them locked in their rooms what could the police really do? Didn’t they have more important things to focus on? Weren’t there actual bad guys out there that needed apprehending or were they too scared to go after anyone who actually posed a threat? After what seemed like an hour-long shower, Melissa toweled off and crawled into bed. She was asleep within seconds and felt so peaceful. She loved the feeling smoking pot gave her even after she was several hours past the first inhalation. It was the most emotionally soothing feeling in the world.

  When she heard the banging sound, Melissa at first thought there was a fire alarm. It exploded in her head like a bomb, and it kept going and going and going. She sat upright and held her ears while she tried to focus her eyes. But they didn’t cooperate. She felt like she’d only fallen asleep a few minutes ago. It didn’t seem right that she was already awake. She tried to figure out if that was her mother standing by her bed and what she was doing.

  After a couple of seconds she realized her mom was banging two pots together like cymbals in a marching band. She kept banging and banging.

  Finally Melissa screamed, “What the hell! Why are you doing that?”

  Her mother stopped, stared at her with this glaring freakish vulture look and said, “You will be going to school today young lady, or I will spend the entire day banging this shit together in your room. It is your choice.”

  Normally, Melissa would have fought back, but her mother looked possessed at this point, and she just didn’t have the energy.

  “Fine!” she yelled and got out of bed to find some clothes. Oh my God, she thought, it’s already 7:15! She had, at most, 20 minutes to get ready, and she couldn’t
go to school looking like she did. She felt like she’d been run over by a truck that kept backing up and running over her again and again. She slapped on some make-up, threw on some shoes, and made it to the car without inciting her mother again, thank God. She was at least thankful for that. At this point her mom had not even asked her where she was last night.

  Maybe this would be just another incident her mother brushed under the table. Just pretend it didn’t happen – that was fine with Melissa. She could sleep at school in most of her classes. As long as you didn’t make a fuss, most of the teachers really didn’t care.

  Party at the neighbor’s house.

  Father

  I made mistakes when I was young. It is interesting to reflect back on my youth and how many things I did that, at the time, seemed perfectly in line. As I grew and matured, though, I realized they were not. Sometimes when you are in the mix of life you can’t see what is really happening. Isn’t that why so many people give into influences that prompt them to do things they might not normally do? Some people are blessed with the power to guide and nurture, and some people who hold that power use it for not-so-savory purposes.

  I was approximately 11 or 12. I, honestly, don’t remember how old but somewhere in that range. It was a time when you still hung out for Halloween. You spent the evening on the streets, but treating was not your primary goal. Granted, you still wanted the candy, but you were too cool to really go through the process required to obtain it. Halloween is a specific evening in a year where things can run amok if you are not careful. How many kids at that age can even define the word “careful,” much less understand its meaning? One particular Halloween I ran around town with a few older kids, and we did the typical toilet paper in the trees, soap on a window, and we even had a couple carton of eggs. We really didn’t know what to do with the eggs, but we knew that people used them on Halloween. Being the youngest of our group, I was a follower by default. So much of the hierarchy in youth is dependent on age. No wonder so many kids can’t wait until they are one year or possibly two years older, etc. The older kids always get to do the cool stuff.