us, to herself before him. The same shit you’ve always said.” He shrugs again and takes a seat. I stay standing, putting my hands in my pockets, fists still. “But then I talked to Mom.”
I’m surprised. He’s always acted so protective of her. We both have. Not wanting to confront her about the past. I never thought he’d talk to her about his feelings over how Dad was with us, with her.
“She said all the same things. She cried.” He runs his hands through his waves, just like mine, “She said she knew that I struggled more than you with how Dad was. But she hoped that I’d figure it out for myself. That tough love is still love. That’s how she put it. The man would slap her right in front of us, and she loved him. He’d treat her like a child, sending her to their room…everything he did.” He looks accusingly at me. “But she loved him. She said she’s grateful that he came along. That she never knew what love and security was before him.”
I want to hit him for making Mom cry, for making her explain this to him. For questioning everything, me, Dad, himself. But I’m fascinated too. I’ve never had the courage to talk to her about it. About her abuse or why she stayed with Dad. I know they love each other. But there were times when I wondered...
“She admitted to all the abuse you told me about…I even remembered a little hearing her talk…” His voice cracks at this admission. He’s never really wanted to remember anything. “She apologized to me. Said that without Dad she doesn’t know what she would’ve done…to us, to herself. That she was suicidal back then. Depressed. On and off using drugs and men to forget about the two boys she had at home who needed her.” He looks at me with watery eyes. I didn’t know this. I vaguely remember a lot of “uncles” and “special friends” but nothing specific.
“That’s how she put it. She didn’t hold anything back…maybe she’s too raw over all this to hold anything back.” He takes a deep breath. “But she told me that I need to stop blaming Dad. That she chose to stay. She chose to live by his rules, his discipline. That she’s never regretted the life she has with him. And he’s never really hurt her…not really. Just like he never really hurt us.” He stands up to be inches from me. “And I know that much is true…I’m a stronger person because of Dad. Because of the love I had from Mom. And I know you protected me when I was a kid, Max. I’ll do the same for you. Anything I can do to help, I will.”
He waits for me to respond, but I only look at him. I can’t bring myself to forgive him.
“I’m sorry, Max. I won’t interfere again. It’s your business. I know you wouldn’t ever really hurt Lucy. You love her. And she loves you.”
I have to swallow to stop the tears I feel burning behind my lids. I can’t say anything. I don’t want to lose it one way or another. I don’t trust that I’ll be able to stop myself from either beating the shit out of him or breaking down into a blubbering idiot. I can’t do either right now. I have to keep my shit together.
Jake finally gets that I won’t respond to him. He takes a step towards the door only adding, “Lucy never would’ve left you. I know that now.” I only nod.
I finally sit when he walks down the hall to the front door.
I can’t focus my thoughts for a moment. Too many conflicting emotions. Anger being top on the list. I imagine beating the crap out of Jake. My rage over his betrayal almost suffocates me. I can’t breathe for a moment. I have to stand, to pace.
I take my time fantasizing about having Lucy here now. What I would do to her for her betrayals. I smile at the image of her on her knees, begging me with tears. But the beating I gave her once would be nothing in comparison to this amount of rage. It wouldn’t just be once. I’d have her black and blue for weeks for what she’s done.
I stop pacing though. It’s no use to imagine.
I’m surprised. He’s always acted so protective of her. We both have. Not wanting to confront her about the past. I never thought he’d talk to her about his feelings over how Dad was with us, with her.
“She said all the same things. She cried.” He runs his hands through his waves, just like mine, “She said she knew that I struggled more than you with how Dad was. But she hoped that I’d figure it out for myself. That tough love is still love. That’s how she put it. The man would slap her right in front of us, and she loved him. He’d treat her like a child, sending her to their room…everything he did.” He looks accusingly at me. “But she loved him. She said she’s grateful that he came along. That she never knew what love and security was before him.”
I want to hit him for making Mom cry, for making her explain this to him. For questioning everything, me, Dad, himself. But I’m fascinated too. I’ve never had the courage to talk to her about it. About her abuse or why she stayed with Dad. I know they love each other. But there were times when I wondered...
“She admitted to all the abuse you told me about…I even remembered a little hearing her talk…” His voice cracks at this admission. He’s never really wanted to remember anything. “She apologized to me. Said that without Dad she doesn’t know what she would’ve done…to us, to herself. That she was suicidal back then. Depressed. On and off using drugs and men to forget about the two boys she had at home who needed her.” He looks at me with watery eyes. I didn’t know this. I vaguely remember a lot of “uncles” and “special friends” but nothing specific.
“That’s how she put it. She didn’t hold anything back…maybe she’s too raw over all this to hold anything back.” He takes a deep breath. “But she told me that I need to stop blaming Dad. That she chose to stay. She chose to live by his rules, his discipline. That she’s never regretted the life she has with him. And he’s never really hurt her…not really. Just like he never really hurt us.” He stands up to be inches from me. “And I know that much is true…I’m a stronger person because of Dad. Because of the love I had from Mom. And I know you protected me when I was a kid, Max. I’ll do the same for you. Anything I can do to help, I will.”
He waits for me to respond, but I only look at him. I can’t bring myself to forgive him.
“I’m sorry, Max. I won’t interfere again. It’s your business. I know you wouldn’t ever really hurt Lucy. You love her. And she loves you.”
I have to swallow to stop the tears I feel burning behind my lids. I can’t say anything. I don’t want to lose it one way or another. I don’t trust that I’ll be able to stop myself from either beating the shit out of him or breaking down into a blubbering idiot. I can’t do either right now. I have to keep my shit together.
Jake finally gets that I won’t respond to him. He takes a step towards the door only adding, “Lucy never would’ve left you. I know that now.” I only nod.
I finally sit when he walks down the hall to the front door.
I can’t focus my thoughts for a moment. Too many conflicting emotions. Anger being top on the list. I imagine beating the crap out of Jake. My rage over his betrayal almost suffocates me. I can’t breathe for a moment. I have to stand, to pace.
I take my time fantasizing about having Lucy here now. What I would do to her for her betrayals. I smile at the image of her on her knees, begging me with tears. But the beating I gave her once would be nothing in comparison to this amount of rage. It wouldn’t just be once. I’d have her black and blue for weeks for what she’s done.
I stop pacing though. It’s no use to imagine.
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