Then, Now, Me

Chapter 4: Then

"Hey, Dad," I breathe into the phone, pacing the home office.

My nervousness about this conversation threatens to cripple me. My heart is beating through my chest, and it feels like my body is ready to turn itself inside out. I"m not sure how I"m going to get through this conversation, but hopefully I can find the words to help my dad understand.

"So I guess you want to know what"s been happening," I say, in a way that is as emotionally neutral as I can muster.

"Of course, Beth," my dad says, sounding like his mood is understanding. I internally breathe a sigh of relief. Like Scott, I never really know what kind of mood my dad will be in for any given moment. It seems like today, though, I might get the dad that is on my side.

The dad that, after endlessly depriving me of emotional nutrition, occasionally drops bread crumbs to keep my hope alive.

I explain the past couple of years with Scott to my dad in as much detail as is necessary; some of it I leave out as a small mercy to a parent who probably doesn"t want to know the whole truth of certain situations. I can"t imagine that any parent - regardless of their character - wants to know in gritty detail how much his or her child has been bullied, manipulated, and lied to over the years.

I end up tearfully saying, "I"m sorry, Dad. I don"t know how this is going to turn out, but if I end up having to make a decision to end things...well, the last thing I want is for you to be disappointed in me."

I can hear my dad breathe out carefully, and then say, "Beth, if the situation really is as you say," and slowly continues, "then I wouldn"t be disappointed in you. I actually would think you are brave."

OOOOO

Mom: Your dad just talked to Scott

Mom: And we both think you"re making a HUGE MISTAKE!

I look down at my phone at these text messages and cannot believe my eyes. My vision fogs and sound closes down on my ears. It"s as if my whole moment narrows into a tube through only which these text messages from my mom exist. It is through no conscious thought that I find my mom"s cell phone number in my phone and dial.

"Hello," my mom says, and I can already tell her jaw is tightened. She is literally - and from what I know of my mom, figuratively - closed against me.

I know in a flash that this phone call will not go well.

"Mom, why did you text me that instead of just calling me to talk?" I ask, on the verge of exploding.

"Well," my mom begins, "we just know you"re making a mistake. Scott loves you and, for the sake of your family, it"s your responsibility to forgive him."

And I"m hurt all over again, hearing the same words my dad just wrote to me in an email the day before - after everything I shared with him. It is in that second that something finally clicks in my heart and I am done being the nice, quiet, never-say-anything-against-anyone girl.

"You know what, Mom?" I say, amping up along to the beat of my racing heart, "I don"t need this! Do you know how much I"ve been bullied by Scott over the years? You have NO idea what I"ve been through or the life I"ve been forced to lead," which brings me to realize something.

One of my favorite movies is Labyrinth with Jennifer Connelly. It"s a Jim Henson disaster - that I happen to adore. In it, the main character, played by Jennifer Connelly, loses her baby brother to an evil Goblin King, played by none-other-than David Bowie. Bowie"s character controls and manipulates Connelly"s character throughout the movie until, finally, she has an awakening of sorts and says to him, "You have no power over me." In that single moment of clarity, his power truly is stripped and she is free. In essence, because she believed he had power or control over her, he did; and once she stopped believing that, he was done.

Although the words I say to my mother next are not exactly the same from the movie, the effect is similar:

"Mom, this is my life and you have no idea what I"ve been through. You have no right to judge me or tell me what to do."

There"s enough of a pause after I say this, for my dad to step in. Apparently, he just got home from work to a charged scene in the kitchen.

He gets on the phone - another extension, it seems - and says to me, "Beth, what is it that you want us to do?"

The words I say, even though I haven"t been consciously thinking them, come without hesitation, "I want you to trust my judgment." I breathe in deeply, trying to slow my galloping heart. "I want you to support and trust me."

And, in the background, I hear the most heart-breaking words from my mom: "No, no, no."

Which is all I need to hear before I say, "You know what. I heard mom say that and honestly, I don"t need this. I have enough going on and this is all hard enough without having to deal with you two." I take a deep breath and talk over my dad"s protestations. "Please don"t talk to me until you can support me."

Putting down the phone, I walk away.

OOOOO

Later that night, I think about the events of the past week leading up to that phone conversation with my mother. Just like with any intense moment, there are details lost that surface later when logic and reason re-enter my brain. Questions also arise, like:

When did my dad talk to Scott?

Did Scott reach out to him or was it my dad that contacted Scott?

What actually was said? And how can it mean more than all of the truth I shared with my dad?

During these reflections, I hear my phone chime with a text message. It"s my younger brother, Matt.

Matt: Hey. How are you holding up

Me: Oh, just dandy. Talked to mom and dad today

Matt: O yeah? How did that go

Me: Peachy. No, actually. It was awful. Did you know that Dad talked to Scott?

Matt: Hmm

There"s a long pause, and my brother doesn"t elaborate - which makes me think something is up.

Me: What? Do you know what happened?

Matt: Don"t tell Dad I told you this... but I think Dad emailed Scott.

Me: What? Do you know what Scott wrote back?

Matt: No idea. But apparently it was pretty effective, right?

Me: I"m so effing disappointed. How could Dad believe everything Scott wrote after everything I said to him? What could he have said?

Matt: I don"t know Beth. I think you need to talk to him. Dad I mean... Scott prolly also.

Me: Yeah, I guess.

Matt: We just don"t want to take sides you know? Maybe you do just need to talk to Scott... I don"t know. We all have a hard time believing Scott could do and say the things you"re telling us, so just try to understand.

Matt: Listen I gotta go. Talk to you later?

Me: Yeah

I put down the phone and think to myself with sheer exhaustion, If they so easily believed Scott, even after everything I shared with them, what is it going to take for them to believe me? Why is that so hard?

My eyes drift closed and before I finally feel myself fall asleep, a thought comes to mind, Because they don"t want to believe me.