by J.P. Medved
Chapter 8
Shortly after leaving the summit, we were able to get to land safe enough for a helicopter to fly us off.
Right before we got into the helicopter, I looked into my father's eyes. While before there was that look of determination, before I got into that helicopter there was a look of fear and, quite possibly, resignation. He looked tired, but not the usual type of tired, a type of tired that I didn't know if he could ever recover from.
We were both checked into a hospital to make sure we were okay. I was in an out of there without any issues, but my father had to spend a god amount of time in there to treat his wounds from my tackle. He still would not say anything.
Eventually, they let my father out of the hospital, all bandaged up. We went right home, driven by the rescue truck, not saying a single word to one another. It was a depressing scene.
I thought that the next day would bring forth better results. I could tell immediately that my hopes would not happen.
First off, for the second time in my life, when I came downstairs, my cereal was not on the table. Next, and more bizarre, my father was nowhere to be found.
I tried calling him on his cell phone, no answer. I tried calling him on his office phone, no answer. Where was he?
I was just about to call my aunt to see if maybe he had gone over there, when he showed up, a chainsaw clutched in his hands, smelling of tree bark.
“Dad?” I asked, “What are you doing?”
A sinister look in his eyes he responded, “Taking what is mine.”
“Are you crazy? This is exactly everything you are, or were, against. I can't believe you! What were you thinking? And have you ever thought that you could get arrested?”
“Look, David, in the fight that is man vs. nature, man is winning, and let me tell you something for the longest time I was on nature's side, trying to stop man from taking natural land. But let me tell you something, son, I am a winner, and if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Nature is trying to survive, David, but if that scene on Holy Cross is any indication of what’s to come then, trust me, it won’t.”
I stood there, partially disgusted by what my father said, partially disgusted by what he has become. I didn't know what to do. So I tried to have one more try at talking to him.
“Dad, do you not understand,” I started, “you are tearing us apart. Please, I am begging you, please, get a hold of yourself and turn yourself around. You are destroying our relationship, along with, whether you realize it or not, everything you have worked for.”
“Oh, stop your nonsense, and please, I am begging you to just leave me alone. I mean, this is a free country isn't it? I can do what I want, so back off.”
“I can't force you to do anything, Dad, I just wish you would look in the mirror to discover what you have become. For the first time in my life, I can say I am not proud to be your son.”
For a small amount of time, I thought I actually got through to him. I saw it in his eyes. But, then as quick as it came, it was gone. And what followed scares me even today. My father beat me.
He came over and slapped me across the face. Then spanked me for what seemed like forever.
“How dare you disrespect me!” he screamed.
Hopelessness had enveloped my life. If I couldn't find hope in my own home, where would I find it?
….
Even the weather warmed up over the next few months, the same cannot be said for the atmosphere around our house.
For a week after the incident, my father and I didn't talk. We refused to look at each other. I went my ways, he went his. Even after I had finished my exams at the end of the year, he would not even congratulate me.
Over the summer, I received one “B”, and that was the opportunity my father needed to lash into me.
“Is this what you call 'acceptable?'”, he bellowed, “I will not have any of this! You have defamed our family you good-for-nothing-moron. I am ashamed to have you as my son!”
Those words hurt. They burned like no pain inside before me before. It wasn't just that it was my own father, my very own father, saying these hurtful statements, but it was the turn of events that led to this moment. Wow, were changed from just a short while ago.
And yet another time we were just sitting at the dinner table, minding our own business, when out of nowhere he said, “You know, I used to think you were a pretty okay person, but now, I can't lie to you, I hate you.”
Again, I was really hurt, but what can you do, your next step could have set off the bomb.
My aunt would not even step one foot into my house, afraid of seeing my father. She told me, “If you want to see me, come here, because I sure as hell are not even coming close to that place.”
After a while of either being treated as a stranger or as a punching bag, I had finally had enough. It was time to think about who was to blame for that fateful day.