We eat in silence for about ten minutes before my dad asks, “So, how was everyone’s day?” My mom, my brother, and I all agree we had a good day. “How’d everything go for you last night, Hope?” he asks.
This is something I’d rather discuss in private, but rarely is that request granted. My dad brings up private matters all the time at the dinner table. “We’re all one family,” he always says. “What happens to one of us matters to all of us.”
“It went okay Dad,” I answer sounding emotional. “It wasn’t easy, but I did it.”
I’m sure he’s aware of my arrival this morning. I think he knows there’s more to the story, but he doesn’t press further. Sensing that this is not an easy subject, he says, “Good,” with a smile before taking another bite of food. “I’m sure that will make your therapist very happy.” A minute later he asks, “Have you still been doing your yoga?”
“Every day,” I confirm. “She actually joined me today,” I add looking at Mom.
“Remember when we did yoga together?” my mom asks Dad.
“Sure,” he says.
“I didn’t know you guys did yoga,” I say. “When was this?”
“How long ago was it?” he asks looking at my mom. “Nine…. ten years ago?”
“No way! What happened?” I ask.
“A long time ago your dad came home and got on this big yoga kick. We found a class and went twice a week for about a year. Then he got caught up in some trial—“
“That was the Keny Thompson trial,” my dad interrupts. “God, I thought that trial would never end.”
“He got caught up in the Keny Thompson trial,” my mom continues. “It lasted months, and we never really went back to yoga again. I always wanted to. I really enjoyed it today.”
“So, you did it together?” my dad asks.
“We sure did,” I say with a wink. “My new yoga partner.”
We eat a little more without talking until I ask, “Dad, what was my real mom’s middle name?”
“Middle name? Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “It came up in therapy. I know almost nothing about her. I don’t even know her middle name or how old she is.”
“Nicole,” he says. “Faith Nicole.”
This takes me by surprise. I can’t remember for sure, but I believe one of the Faith’s I found had a middle name of Nicole. I’ll have to go back and check again. “What was her date of birth?” I ask.
“Her date of birth?” he repeats looking at Mom. “It’s been so long I don’t really remember.”
“Can you find it for me?” I ask.
Dad looks a little uncomfortable which is not like him. He takes another bite of food and looks down like he’s thinking. “February 27th, I believe.”
“February 27th what?” I ask.
“I don’t remember. I know she was six years younger than me. That would make it….”
Six years younger tells me all I need to know. “Never mind,” I say like it’s no big deal. “I was just wondering.”
When we finish eating, I help Mom with the kitchen. I clear the dishes and wipe off the table while she wipes down all the counters. I then go to my room, open my blue folder, and pull out the papers. I’m shocked when I get to the news article again. It’s short and gives me almost no specifics:
Bangkok, Thailand
November 14, 2014
• Faith Nicole Brunick, an American returning to the United States was arrested at the Suvarnabhumi Airport with more than two pounds of heroin in her luggage, A Bangkok police official told NPR. No specifics are known at this time.
I’m holding the paper in my hand, when my dad knocks on my open door, enters my room, and sits on the bed. “Hey sweetie, everything okay?” he asks.
“Sure,” I shrug slowly closing my blue folder. I walk over and sit on the bed.
“Anything you want to talk about?” he asks.
“Not really,” I say.
“You got in pretty late last night,” he says.
“Truth… lie…. truth… lie…. truth… lie” goes through my mind like it has many times growing up. I sit down beside him and explain, “Dad, I met with him just like we talked about. I wanted to breakup with him. I really did.”
I look down as my eyes tear up. My voice shakes with emotion. My dad puts his arm around me and pulls me closer. “I love him Dad, I’ll always love him. I stayed the night with him.”
“I figured you did,” he says.
I start to tear up and wipe my eyes. “The next morning I broke it off and I left.” My dad continues to hold me without saying anything. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but somehow I got through it.”
“Hope, you’re a great young lady. I’m really proud of you.”
“I love you, Dad. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I love you too baby.”
I get up from the bed and pick up the blue folder sitting on my desk. “You know my therapist wants me to talk with Mom, right?”
“Hope, I know the therapist thinks that’s important, but I don’t know. You were just in the hospital. Right now I don't like the idea of you opening those old wounds while you’re dealing with so much.”
“Dad, we never talk about her. It’s like we shut that door and just forget all about her. She’s my mom. I learned in therapy that I have a lot of hurt and anger over what Mom did to me - what she did to you. I can’t act like it didn't happen.”
“Hope, you were so young back then. By the time you were old enough to talk about it, I didn’t know what to say to you. I guess I just kept putting it off. Then it was easier to just leave well enough alone. I want you to know that your mom did nothing to you. It was me. We just couldn’t get along.”
I open the folder, hand him the one-page news article, and say, “I found this on the internet. I figured it couldn’t be Mom, but now I don’t know.”
He takes the paper and reads it without saying a word. I look at his face to see his reaction to learning this news. He’s obviously surprised. He looks at me and then looks down like he doesn’t know what to say. I’m sure it’s very upsetting for him.
Finally, he gets up, closes my bedroom door, and returns to my bed. Looking back down at the article he says, “Hope, I guess I knew this day would come.”
This isn’t what I was expecting. “You knew about this?” I ask.
Still looking down at the article he nods his head.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were so little when it happened. You wouldn’t have understood if I tried. I actually visited your mom in prison. I tried to help her, but there was nothing I could do. She made me swear that I’d never tell you kids what she got herself into. I’ve done my best all these years to keep that promise.”
“So you talked to her?” I ask.
“I flew to Thailand and met with her. We talked. I did everything I could to get her out of prison, but it was no use. The judge had his mind made up before the trial began.”
“What happened?” I ask. “Why was she in prison?”
“Well Hope, she never did well after the divorce. I paid child support, but it was never enough. Eventually, she had to file for bankruptcy. That was the start of a lot of her problems. I think she was in trouble. She needed money. She met some guy and thought she make a fast buck, so she took it. People sometimes do things they regret later and I know she regretted it all.”
“How long has she been in prison?” I ask.
“In Thailand, the prison sentences are pretty severe. She had a lot of drugs. I never heard what eventually happened, but she was looking at fifty years.
This is hard for me to comprehend. I take a deep breath and repeat, “Fifty years?”
“I don’t want you to hate her. We all make mistakes. She made choices, and she’s paying for those choices.”
“Obviously she didn’t love us,” I say shaking my head. “If she did she wouldn’t have done this.”
>
“Don’t say that Hope…and don’t think that,” Dad says putting his arm around me. “Your mom loved you kids very much. It had nothing to do with you. I think she just needed money and didn’t think things through.”
It’s so weird hearing all this. I always thought my mom left us and didn’t want to see us again. Now I find out for the first time that she got caught smuggling drugs. Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse. It definitely doesn’t make me feel any better about things. I look down at my lap and say, “You know Dad, I don’t even remember her. She’s my mom, but I don’t know who she is.”
“You were pretty little,” he says.
“Yeah, I don’t spend much time thinking about this, but it came up again and again in therapy. I want to move on, but thinking about everything makes me so angry. She had kids. She should have known better than to do something so stupid.”
“I know Hope, but we all make mistakes.”
“Dad, why do you keep covering for her?”
“Because she’s your mother.”
I now understand what my therapist was saying about my anger over it all. “She’s not my mother,” I say with the anger stirring inside me. “My mother is downstairs.”
“I know Hope.”
“I want to know why,” I demand. “Why would someone do this?”
“If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here,” my dad says.
“I don’t know…. I want to talk to her.”
“Hope,” my dad says. patting my leg, “that’s not possible. You don’t know those Thai prisons. There’s no phones and no Internet. I don’t think they’d even let you in there.”
“Can I see? Can I find out?
“I just don't like it. What’s done is done. Thailand is not a safe place for you. I don’t want you going there. Okay?”
I take a deep sigh, lean against him, and say, “Okay.”
“I love you, sweetie,” he says holding me.
“Love you too Dad.”
The one thing Ryan knows is that Hope has no money to travel anywhere. She can’t even pay for her plane ticket home. Ryan gives her money for everything – school, books, food, car payment, gas, insurance, spending money– everything. She can’t really investigate as long as she’s broke. He’ll never give her money to fly to Thailand.
– CHAPTER 7 –
O ver the next three weeks the college acceptance letters keep coming in – The University of Texas, Texas A&M, Alabama, LSU, Stanford, Berkeley, and Duke. I’m no longer worried about the college Kyle will attend, so I choose Stanford. I move to California and start my new life as a college student.
My dad and mom drive me to California with most of my belongings riding behind in a trailer we rented. Grace flies up a week later to help me settle into my new dorm. We’ve always been close, but our relationship really grew stronger after Colt died. It kinda felt like it was her and me against the world. When she left for college, I spent a week helping her get moved in. Now she’s doing the same for me.
We put away my clothes, set up my desk, and go to one store after another buying everything I’ll need for school and my new home away from home. We return to my dorm and put everything away. Exhausted from shopping we lay together on my bed.
“So we never got a chance to talk about it. How’d things go with Kyle?” she asks.
I take a deep breath and let it out again. “Grace, it didn’t go well. Things got pretty screwed up.”
“What happened?” she asks.
“Well, when I first arrived in Florida I was so angry. I hated Dad for sending me there. I missed Kyle so much. I even left once.”
“I know,” she says.
“You knew? I didn’t know you knew about it. I left to be with Kyle. I was going to run away with him and get married.”
“What?”
“I know. It all sounds so crazy now. He was supposed to meet me. I waited and waited, but he never showed up.”
“Did you ever find out why?” she asks.
“Grace, he’s hooked on heroin. I called and called. When he finally answered the phone he sounded so messed up. I couldn’t even talk to him. He was supposed to come pick me up, but he never did. I finally went back to the facility. By then Dad was in Florida and everyone was looking for me.”
“I know, we were all so worried,” Grace says.
“I never told anyone what happened until months later in our group therapy sessions.”
“Hope, you’ve been through so much.”
“You can’t tell anyone what I’m going to tell you, okay?”
“Of course,” she agrees.
“Kyle and I did heroin more than anyone knew. Before I crashed we were doing it almost every weekend.”
“Oh my God.”
“Well, when I went back to the facility, I wanted to go home. The only way out was to complete the program. I really dove in. I got clean and never looked back.”
“Thank God. I’m so glad he never showed up.”
“Well, when I came back home I had to break it off with him. I had to do it in person. I owed him that. I went over to his house. When he answered the door he looked so good. He was all cleaned up. He had on nice clothes, and he talked so sweet. He looked like the old Kyle I used to know. Well, everything came back. I tried to break it off with him––I really did––but I couldn’t. As hard as I tried, he kept holding me and begging me to stay.”
By this time I’m crying again so Grace pulls me into her. “Next thing we were making out. We went upstairs and made love.”
“Oh Hope….,” she says showing her concern.
“I know. Then in the middle of it all, he took some heroin and offered me some.” Grace’s eyes open wide hanging on my next words. “I knew better. I knew I should just walk away, but…but…I don’t know. I just wanted to be loved. I wanted to love him. I took it.”
“What!” she says still holding me..
“I know. I stayed the night with him, but in the morning I saw things so clear again. I walked out and ended it forever.”
“I’m sorry Hope. You’ve been through so many things that I’ve never had to deal with. I know it wasn’t easy. I’m so proud of you.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”
“Hope, you’ll find someone else. It’ll take some time, but you’ll be fine.”
We both sit up on the bed and I continue. “You know, the treatment facility did me a lot of good. It saved my life. I made some great friends, and I really started examining myself. I was young when Mom left. I never really knew her like you did. I realize from talking, and hearing everyone else talk, how much her leaving affected me.” I pause for a minute and look away. “Grace, please don’t tell Dad what I’m about to tell you.”
“I won’t, you know that.”
“Well, my therapist wants me to find Mom and talk to her. I looked her up on the computer before I left.”
I get up from the bed, walk over to the desk, and pull out my blue folder. I hand her the article I found. “Here, I found this news article.”
She looks at it, but doesn’t have the reaction I was expecting. “I know all about this,” she says. “I found this same article.”
“What?” I ask surprised. “You already knew?”
“When Mom didn't come to my graduation I was hurt. After Colt died I was so angry at Mom. I was mad she left. I was mad she didn’t even care enough to come to his funeral. I wanted to give her a piece of my mind. I looked her up on the Internet and found this same article. I didn’t believe it, but Dad told me all about it.”
I can’t believe my ears. “So you’ve known this the whole time? I was the last to know. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Dad told me not to. He said he went to Thailand and tried to help her. She made him promise never to tell us kids, and he kept that promise. He made me promise not to tell you.”
“I asked Dad about it,” I say. “He told me the same thing. He said Mom loved us and made a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Grace says shaking her head. “I don’t know why he’s still making excuses for her. A mistake is not picking me up from school or forgetting my volleyball game. A mistake is dating some loser. This wasn’t a mistake. She chose to do this. She chose to sell drugs.”
“Why are you so angry?” I ask.
“You were little. Mom was––,” she says thinking of what to say next. “God, it was so long ago I hardly remember myself. We were once a normal family until Mom left Dad and they divorced – then things got pretty crazy. Mom was always broke. She went from one guy to the next. She started dating this guy….I think his name was Paul or something. All she wanted to do was be with him. She’d leave after we went to bed and hurry back the next morning like I wouldn’t ever know. Well, he broke up with her, and she just fell apart. It was like dealing with a teenager.”
“Is that it?”
“Not really,” Grace answers. “This played out over and over again. I wanted to go live with Dad. Colt even ran away to live with Dad. Part of me was happy when she left.”
“Grace, I want to see her. I want to talk to her.”
“Why?” she asks.
“I don’t know. She’s my mom. Maybe I just want to know why.”
“Why’s that?”
“I just have questions. I want to know why she did it. Why she’d do something so stupid. Grace, don’t you want to see her again?”
The more Grace talks the angrier she’s getting. “Hell no I don’t want to see her!” she practically shouts. “I’ll tell you why. She started dating some guy and wanted to make some easy money. Well, there’s no such thing as easy money. She got caught, and now she’s where she belongs.”
“Wow! You think she belongs in jail?”
“She’s the one who left. She’s the one who started dealing drugs. She had to know if she got caught she would never see us again. She did it anyway. No, I don’t care if I ever see her again.”
The Beginning of Hope: The Highly Anticipated, Mind-Blowing Sequel to the Killing of Faith (The Killing of Faith Series Book 2) Page 5