A Man Named Dave

by Dave Pelzer

  As the days passed, some were better than others. On rare nights, I’d be able to sleep for more than three hours at a time. I’d ration myself with a yogurt in the morning and a Cup-O-Soup with a piece of French bread in the evening for dinner—so I could save money for whenever I was with Stephen—and for the most part I was beginning to keep my food down. Although I had lost a great deal of weight, I kept telling myself things were getting better. Besides being with my son, I was prepared to live my life alone. The last thing I wanted was to screw up another person’s life, as I had with Patsy and Stephen.

  During the late fall of that year, while on the road, I checked in with Jerry. He told me that the International Junior Chamber of Commerce had selected me as one of the Ten Outstanding Young Persons of the World. Before I could relish the moment, Jerry dropped his voice to a whisper and informed me the firm was in serious trouble. Immediately I thought about the advances the firm had initially provided me, that by now I should have paid back in full. But for some time now, whenever I had checked with Jerry on my accounting or other matters involving specifics, he would become frustrated and at times fiercely upset. Just being out of the military and because I was still adapting to dealing with the civilian world, and due to Jerry’s position as the former vice president of the company, I always felt I was pushing too hard. All I could do was remain patient. But after months of promises, I still could not get answers to my questions, and whenever I’d probe, I felt belittled and I’d back down. As I had with Patsy before our separation, to spare myself any headaches I’d simply go along with things to avoid any confrontations. Before hanging up the phone, Jerry repeated his assurance for me not to worry and that he’d continue to stick his neck out for me.

  Later that day, after I spoke to Stephen about his day, I told Patsy of the good news. Lately on the phone and whenever I had seen her in person, she seemed like a new woman. She was holding down a job she loved and raved about things she wanted to accomplish. Her attitude was one of confidence and independence. Even though I knew she was seeing someone else, I never let on. After the years of being with me, I simply desired that Patsy be happy. I felt I had dragged her down all those years. Before I flew to Japan to accept the TOYP award, Patsy was kind enough to write, thanking me for all that I had done for her and restating her newfound happiness. Patsy had moved on with her life.

  I was on the road for over a week before arriving in Kobe, Japan, staying for just over twenty-four hours, then making several flights back and landing in Nebraska to drive several hours and speak at a school. Jerry had been insistent about my returning to Lincoln Saturday afternoon so that he could finally answer the concerns I had face to face. When I showed up at the high school, though, the principal was reluctant to have me speak to her students—I looked like I would faint from exhaustion. The principal also stated that she knew of my recent return from Japan, and she had told Jerry to have me come back to her school at another time. Jerry had joked with the principal, stating, “Don’t worry about David; he won’t mind.” The stress, multiple time-zone changes, and lack of sleep had caught up with me. Assuring the principal that I wouldn’t let her down, I stayed the entire day with the students and later made the four-hour drive back to Lincoln. After falling asleep behind the wheel and nearly crashing the car, I pulled over at a rest stop to catch a nap. Late that Friday evening I finally checked into a hotel, collapsing on top of the bed with my clothes still on. Before passing out, I felt a sense of pride—as tired as I was, I gave it my best and hopefully made an impact. Thinking about the day to come, I felt everything would fall into place.

  Early the next morning, Carl, the senior partner of the firm, woke me with a phone call, asking me to come over to the office right away. I thought the reason was some surprise party for the award I had just received. The entire staff knew how hard I had worked to prove my worthiness, and since my separation they had gone out of their way to show me kindness.

  With my award clutched in my hand, I nearly dropped it when I saw the look on everyone’s face. I thought someone had died. Sitting down, I swallowed hard as I was told that Jerry had stolen funds from the organization. As I was presented with reams of paperwork and canceled checks made out to himself, everything suddenly made sense.

  I didn’t want anyone to think I had violated their trust, so I confessed to the group the advances that Jerry had instructed me to keep to myself, and that I felt Jerry was deliberately isolating me from the staff. When they looked at each other, then back at me, I thought I was doomed. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to think I, too, had cheated on them. With the award on the table in full view, I felt like a heel. I should have come forward months ago when I felt something was wrong. But when Rich, the co-founder, told me that the advances were not only legitimate but paid in full, only then did I feel a sense of relief. “Besides,” Rich said to me later in private, “you’re too Jimmy Olsen. Oh, yeah, by the way, congrats on the award.”

  I alone had to address Jerry. As much as I hated to, I phoned Jerry, and for the first time as a businessman, I showed a little backbone when he made excuses. Jerry tried to blame it on the firm, and told me to trust him, but I didn’t want to get into finger pointing or blaming. Without disrespect or emotion, I simply stated, “I can never see you or talk to you again. Ever.”

  Days later, upon returning to Guerneville, I hated everything about myself. I felt like a joke. Because my place was a summer home, it had no insulation or heating unit except for an ancient wood stove, and the temperature inside the house was literally just above freezing. From the constant traveling and other roller-coaster–like events, I was emotionally drained. With a clean cloth I wiped off the statuette made of a pair of golden hands that held a silver globe, with my name engraved on the wooden base. In a flash of rage I almost threw the award—which I had received days ago in front of thousands of delegates throughout the world who showered me with praise I felt I did not deserve—into the fireplace. I shook my head with disgust. Here I was, an Outstanding Young Person of the World, separated from my wife and son because I had chased a dream, only to have my trust violated again, and if I didn’t freeze to death due to my firewood being soaked from the rain, I could celebrate with a Cup-O-Soup for dinner. After pumping air back into my leaky air mattress, I covered myself with layers of worn-out sleeping bags. If I was lucky I’d fall asleep before hunger took over, so I could save my dinner for another time.

  When I awoke the next day, I walked for miles in a cold drizzle. I reflected on the last few years and how within a short amount of time I had tossed away my air force career and my marriage. Patsy was right: she had given me two years and the results were I was now living like an Eskimo. By taking a chance and blindly charging ahead, I had put at risk all that I held sacred. As much as I thought my message was helping others, the personal results were obvious.

  It was Patsy who had the guts to call it quits. I never had the nerve to walk away, and I felt she had worked on our relationship far more than I had. In the final analysis, we were simply two different people. Maybe in my desire to protect Patsy, I had unintentionally smothered her until my pettiness drove her away.

  I didn’t deserve to be with Patsy, or anyone else. But as much as I still cared for her, I could never trust her or, because of Jerry, anyone else. Maybe my ice-cold environment was the perfect penance for my stupidity. One thing I knew: I was meant to be alone. Because of the tangled feelings of unworthiness and self-preservation, I could never allow anyone, besides my son, into my hardened heart.

  Within months, I rid myself of my self-pity, took stock in myself, and said good-bye to the Lincoln firm. I had heard Jerry and the firm had settled their issues, and I wished them the best of luck. I decided to run my own business. This way I could be independent and in control of my own destiny. If I was going to fall on my face, I wanted it to be from my doing. And for me, the bonus of being self-employed was seeing Stephen. Since he lived nearly two hundred miles away, I could take
time off that I normally could not in a regular job. I could make the three-hour drive to watch him play a late-night game of baseball, spend long weekends with him, or schedule my work around his time off from school. With each day, as scared as I was, the long hours were good therapy. Because Jerry had rarely returned clients’ calls who were interested in my programs, I now found myself with just enough work to survive. I knew things would work out, especially by the time I had saved enough money to purchase a cheap pedestal bed and a heating blanket. With each day I began to feel better about myself. But there was still one issue that needed closure.

  One morning after returning home from church, I prayed for guidance before calling Patsy. We met hours later. After being separated for over a year, I owed it to her to get everything off my chest. Patsy arrived wearing a nice outfit and had obviously spent extra time making up her face and hair. Her appearance reminded me of the Patsy I had known when we had first met. I exhaled deeply as I began to speak, but when I opened my mouth nothing came out. After several attempts I finally blurted, “I want you to know . . . how sorry I am.” Patsy’s eyes lit up. “I was wrong . . . in so many ways, and I beg for your forgiveness.”

  Patsy reached out to seize my hand. “Does this mean you’re ready to come back to . . . ?”

  “No,” I whispered. I turned my head down and away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you and give you the wrong impression.” I shook my head. “I can’t do that to you, to Stephen. I mean, we’d be okay for a while, but . . . I’d end up screwing everything up. . . .” Without warning, my chest started to shudder. I felt light-headed, and I could feel myself about to slide off the chair.

  “David? David?” Patsy said. “Are you okay, what are . . . what are you saying?”

  Again with my head hung low, I shook my head.

  While Patsy and I sat in silence, around us people came in and out of the hotel lounge, ordering drinks, laughing, or watching the big-screen television. After several minutes an overwhelming pressure built up behind my eyes. Patsy’s expression told me not to say anything. “I owe you this much,” I wept. “I could have . . . I should have treated you better. I—I was scared, all the time, of what might happen next. It wasn’t your fault . . . I just couldn’t let you in, and for that I am truly sorry. I swear to God, I know what an ass I was, and I beg for your forgiveness. I drove you crazy, and every time you reached out . . . I shut you out. How could I love you? I mean really love you, when I hated myself?” I said, pounding my hand. “There are so many things I did wrong, and for that I can never forgive myself. I should have stopped and listened to what you were really trying to say. As much as I provided for you, I was never there for you.”

  “Well,” Patsy asked as she wiped her eyes, “I guess this means we’re through?”

  I bit my lip, and nodded.

  “Just say it,” Patsy pleaded. “Just tell me so I can go on. I can take it, be a man and tell me.”

  “Patsy,” I swallowed as I gazed into her eyes, “I’m not good enough to be your husband and I think we should . . . should divorce.”

  Patsy closed her eyes before nodding that she agreed. After dabbing a tissue to her eyes and adjusting her blouse, she smiled. “Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  “I’m flattered.” I laughed. “Really I am.”

  We spent the remainder of the afternoon addressing every issue we could think of. “You realize Stephen will live with me. I’m a homebody and you’re on the road too much. You can see or talk to him anytime you want. I’ll never use him as a pawn. I think you and I both know what that’s like. I won’t do that to our son.

  “The thing is,” Patsy went on, “for both of us Stephen was the best thing in our lives. I just wanted something more, that’s all.”

  “No matter what, I want to be friends,” I said. Patsy immediately nodded. “I mean it. I don’t have many friends, and I think we deserve to give each other that.” I stopped to take in a deep breath. “One more thing . . .”

  “Oh, my God!” Patsy gasped. “You’re not going to tell me you’re gay?”

  I coughed before I could reply. “No! What made you think that?”

  “Well,” Patsy said, recovering, “I just thought, I mean, you live in Guerneville and all. You don’t go out. What’s a wife to think? You leave me to go live down there. . . .”

  I brushed off the statement. “Listen, please. I just want you to know, you were right about the office in Lincoln. I found out a few months ago. I was mismanaged. That’s why I couldn’t get enough gigs. And the books, they were ‘printed,’ they were never published. They weren’t even copyrighted! That’s why they weren’t in the stores.”

  “The Lost Boy, too?” Patsy inquired, my second book, which Jerry had about insisted that I write. I nodded. “Jesus,” Patsy scolded, “how could you be that stupid and allow so many people to take advantage of you like that? As smart as you are, I’ll never understand you.”

  I thought of myself from years ago. “I dunno,” I replied. “Ever since I was a kid . . . I never had the guts to really speak up for myself. I was always too intimidated. Even now as an adult, whether it was Jerry at the Lincoln office, buying a car, sticking up for myself so no one could walk over me or, no offense, even with you, I couldn’t do it. I . . . it was easy for me to do for others, but not for myself.”

  “David,” Patsy sighed, “it’s different with me . . . I’m your wife.”

  I nodded, but more to myself. “All that changes now.”

  “So, what are you going to do? Sue ’em?” Patsy had a gleam in her eye.

  “No.” I shook my head. “It’s not the money, it never was. I don’t want a dime of something I didn’t earn first. It’s a matter of honor. The worst thing I could do to them—to anyone that screws me—is have nothing to do with them.”

  “I think you’re stupid. I’d stick it to them but good. So, what are you going to do to protect yourself?”

  “Simple,” I said, smiling, “trust no one.”

  “You do that, and you’ll be a lonely old man, David Pelzer.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “But I just can’t allow myself to be hurt again.”

  “I don’t know what you think of me; I know I’ve burned a lot of bridges with you, but I’d never screw you, David,” she stated.

  “I know. It’s going to be okay. I swear, I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

  “Well,” Patsy gushed. “I am. I mean—”

  “I know,” I interrupted. “I’ve known for a while. Are you happy? Is he good to you? To Stephen?”

  “Yeah.” Patsy beamed. “Guess you can say I finally got myself a real cowboy.”

  “And please,” I begged, “be careful. We’re adults, but I don’t want Stephen to get hurt any more than he has.”

  “So, what are you gonna do?”

  Without hesitation I said, “Be a good father and carry on. I’m not going to quit. I’m going to work hard and see it through.”

  “David,” Patsy snapped, “I’m not talking about work, or Stephen. I know you’ll be a good father for him. For once in your life, what about you? What are you going to do for you?”

  For a moment I felt the magnitude of Patsy’s question. I sat hunched over, stymied. “I don’t . . . I don’t know. Just live my life day by day. That’s all I can do. I just don’t want to repeat the same mistakes all over again.”

  Patsy shook her head in disbelief. “My God, after all these years . . . you’re still carrying her shame.”

  I had no response. I truly felt like a leper when it came to being close to anyone besides my son.

  As we got up to leave, Patsy and I embraced. “I’ll always hold a place in my heart for you, David Pelzer. You’re a good man, and for God’s sake go out there and live a little!”

  “Thanks, Patsy, you have no idea what that means to me. I pray for you every day. Godspeed, Patsy,” I stated.

  “Good-bye, David.”

  “Good-bye, Patsy.
”

  We soon filed for divorce. Less than thirty days after our divorce was finalized, Patsy remarried.

  Between Stephen and my work, I deliberately stayed to myself. Overall I was content. On a good week, when I felt I earned it, I would venture “out there” and treat myself to a movie. Working for myself proved more difficult than I had expected, yet I loved every minute of it. After purchasing the rights to my books from the Lincoln firm, I quickly found two publishers who wanted to publish the books. Even though I knew I could receive a better deal with a New York publishing house, I signed with a smaller publisher in Florida, partly because for years I had admired the works of their authors John Bradshaw and Jack Canfield. I assumed a smaller publisher would be able to spend more time marketing and promoting my books.

  Within a few weeks I received a call from an assistant editor who introduced herself as Marsha Donohoe. We spoke about the changes she wished to make and the schedule of publishing my first book. After hanging up the phone, I could not help but think what an incredible voice she had. Before my mind began to wander, I pushed Marsha out of my mind by burying myself in my work.

  Months passed. The more Marsha and I discussed every page, every paragraph, analyzing every word of the book, the more I found myself becoming enthralled by her. Besides having the sweetest voice I ever heard, I respected the passion she had for her work. I understood that editors could not afford to spend much time on any particular project due to the overwhelming amount of deadlines within the publishing world, yet because Marsha and I cared so much about the story, we would spend more than an hour wrangling over a single sentence. “I don’t want to get you in trouble,” I told her one day. “I don’t understand; I usually catch a lot of flak for trying to do my best. Why are you doing this?”