unable to speak. “Claire, you have to talk to me.”
“ I can’t do this....us,” I explained quickly. I could tell he was confused by the sadness in my eyes.
“Why not?” I could hear the disappointment in his voice and I tried to stay strong.
“It’s a long story,” I said. He laughed; it was short and mocking, unusual for him.
“I told you, I like long stories,” he shot back and pulled me towards him. I collapsed on the couch beside him, my breath hissing through my clenched teeth. “I have time.”
“You won’t want to hear it.”
“Claire.” I could hear the exasperation catch in his voice. “Try me.”
“You won’t be able to handle it,” I said. I was trying desperately to get him to drop the subject. Unlucky for me, it wasn’t that easy.
“Claire, you tell me right now. You are mine and I care about you. Let me in,” he pleaded. “Please, Claire. Just let me in. Let me know your life. I want to know you.”
“Okay,” I whispered, feeling defeated. “Here goes nothing.”
Chapter 17-September 5, 2001 (Michael)
“My mom was nineteen,” Claire started after taking in a deep breath, “when she had me. My dad was twenty-nine; ten years her senior. He was her college professor. When my mom found out that she was pregnant, she was genuinely happy. She said that she had always planned to keep her firstborn, no matter how old she was. After my dad found out, he proposed and they got married the winter before I was born. In March of 1976 I was introduced to life.
They found a little home in Atlanta, Georgia, thinking that they could do it. They thought that they could have jobs and have a family at the same time. But, by the fall of 1976, my mom had dropped out of college. She said that it was too hard with a newborn. She always promised she would go back after I got old enough. She never did.”
Claire paused and looked down at her hands. She fiddled with a bracelet around her wrist before continuing.
“When I was seven, everything was going fine. My dad was paying for everything and my mom had a part time job at a restaurant. Then, she found out she was pregnant again. My dad ordered for her to get an abortion. He said that they didn’t need another baby in the house. My mom disagreed and it was the first time I had ever seen my dad hit my mom.
But, my mom didn’t care and went ahead to have the baby. Later that year, my brother, Alex was born. I was so happy. I had someone to play with, other than my stuffed animals. I was told that I had to wait for Alex to grow up before I could play with him.
I was still a wild child even then. I alway broke the rules. So, almost every night I would crawl into his crib with him and sleep next to him. My mom would alway find me in there and scold me, but she laughed while she did it, so I knew it was okay.”
Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. I handed her the coffee mug and she took it graciously. She took a sip and smiled shyly at me .
“When I was nine, the fighting started. At first it was little things, like how my mom was home later than she was supposed to be. Then it got down to the fact that my dad thought that my mom wasn’t paying her share for the house and everything. At night, I could here them arguing. It would start quietly until my dad started yelling at her.
It usually ended with a crash and my mom coming upstairs into my room. She would crawl in bed with me, tears coming down her face. Sometimes there was a new bruise on her face or her fingers would be crooked.
A few days after I turned ten, the divorce papers were signed and she was on her way to California. My dad, Alex and I stayed in Georgia, trading our old house for a smaller, cheaper one. I would then be the one to take care of my brother. I would feign sick so that I could be there for him when the babysitter couldn’t. Somehow, I was able to slip through
“ I can’t do this....us,” I explained quickly. I could tell he was confused by the sadness in my eyes.
“Why not?” I could hear the disappointment in his voice and I tried to stay strong.
“It’s a long story,” I said. He laughed; it was short and mocking, unusual for him.
“I told you, I like long stories,” he shot back and pulled me towards him. I collapsed on the couch beside him, my breath hissing through my clenched teeth. “I have time.”
“You won’t want to hear it.”
“Claire.” I could hear the exasperation catch in his voice. “Try me.”
“You won’t be able to handle it,” I said. I was trying desperately to get him to drop the subject. Unlucky for me, it wasn’t that easy.
“Claire, you tell me right now. You are mine and I care about you. Let me in,” he pleaded. “Please, Claire. Just let me in. Let me know your life. I want to know you.”
“Okay,” I whispered, feeling defeated. “Here goes nothing.”
Chapter 17-September 5, 2001 (Michael)
“My mom was nineteen,” Claire started after taking in a deep breath, “when she had me. My dad was twenty-nine; ten years her senior. He was her college professor. When my mom found out that she was pregnant, she was genuinely happy. She said that she had always planned to keep her firstborn, no matter how old she was. After my dad found out, he proposed and they got married the winter before I was born. In March of 1976 I was introduced to life.
They found a little home in Atlanta, Georgia, thinking that they could do it. They thought that they could have jobs and have a family at the same time. But, by the fall of 1976, my mom had dropped out of college. She said that it was too hard with a newborn. She always promised she would go back after I got old enough. She never did.”
Claire paused and looked down at her hands. She fiddled with a bracelet around her wrist before continuing.
“When I was seven, everything was going fine. My dad was paying for everything and my mom had a part time job at a restaurant. Then, she found out she was pregnant again. My dad ordered for her to get an abortion. He said that they didn’t need another baby in the house. My mom disagreed and it was the first time I had ever seen my dad hit my mom.
But, my mom didn’t care and went ahead to have the baby. Later that year, my brother, Alex was born. I was so happy. I had someone to play with, other than my stuffed animals. I was told that I had to wait for Alex to grow up before I could play with him.
I was still a wild child even then. I alway broke the rules. So, almost every night I would crawl into his crib with him and sleep next to him. My mom would alway find me in there and scold me, but she laughed while she did it, so I knew it was okay.”
Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. I handed her the coffee mug and she took it graciously. She took a sip and smiled shyly at me .
“When I was nine, the fighting started. At first it was little things, like how my mom was home later than she was supposed to be. Then it got down to the fact that my dad thought that my mom wasn’t paying her share for the house and everything. At night, I could here them arguing. It would start quietly until my dad started yelling at her.
It usually ended with a crash and my mom coming upstairs into my room. She would crawl in bed with me, tears coming down her face. Sometimes there was a new bruise on her face or her fingers would be crooked.
A few days after I turned ten, the divorce papers were signed and she was on her way to California. My dad, Alex and I stayed in Georgia, trading our old house for a smaller, cheaper one. I would then be the one to take care of my brother. I would feign sick so that I could be there for him when the babysitter couldn’t. Somehow, I was able to slip through
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