the Anthology
Ten wishes from ten women...
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Teddi's Wish
Where did I leave that bus ticket. |
Dodge City, Kansas…
Teddy Kubelski winced as he heard the front door open and close. Living in a home where he was misunderstood was painful enough; that they didn’t try hurt even more. He breathed a sigh of relief, hoping the peril had passed. A moment later his worst fears were realized as a “where is that fucking kid?” came from the living room. He looked out the window and saw that his bike was leaning on the side of the house by the kitchen door, so escape such as it was would be on foot. If he was going to make the move, it had to be right then and there. He went to open the window when the door opened up. Standing there, all five-foot-six of him, was his foster mother’s son.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re goin’?” Kenny asked as he grabbed Teddy by the scruff of the neck, pulling him back away from the window. Before he could answer, the young man threw Teddy against the wall next to the closet door, sending a model of a 57 Chevy Nomad crashing to the floor, shattering in more than a few pieces and stirring up the accumulated dust of seven years of neglect. The room had been Kenny Pollack’s when he had grown up, and it had been passed along to any boy unfortunate enough to land at the Pollack house through the foster system.
“Look what you fucking did, you little faggot.” That Kenny didn’t consider Teddy’s orientation mattered not; he just called every boy that his mother cared for a faggot. He grabbed Teddy and pushed him back against the wall.
“Where the fuck is my money?” Kenny said meanly but in a voice almost too soft to hear.
“I told you…they don’t give me the money…your mother gets it and she spends it.”
That Kenny continued to get it wrong despite his mother’s twelve year history as a foster parent wasn’t lost on Teddy; if he hadn’t banged his head against an old nail righ then he might have laughed at the irony. But then again, probably not. Instead, he began to cry.
“What a little shit…you calling my mother a thief?” Again the misconception took precedence over the obvious and Kenny hit Teddy in the mouth with a hard slap, causing his lip to bleed.
“Nnno…Just a second…please…” Kenny was about to hit the boy once more when Teddy reached into his pocket.
“Here…this is worth a few hundred dollars…my Mom gave it to me…”
His hands shook as he produced a plastic case with a 1972 Lincoln penny, double obverse; it was worth over $500. Its 1969 companion was worth in the neighborhood of $30,000. It was almost too sad and painful to part with, since it was the last connection he had to the past, and Kenny was taking it like it was just milk money. But two broken ribs (unattended) and a sore lip, plus a secret that would likely get the boy killed loosened the grip on his treasure.
“Fuck…what a fucking wimp,”
Kenny said as he tore the case out of the boy’s hand. And with that, he walked out of the room, laughing as he ignored the boy sitting on the floor against the wall, crying over one more loss in a brief but painful history of losses. Teddy’s mother had been killed in a car accident along with his baby sister Claire, and with no living relatives to adopt him he had been placed with the Pollacks only three months before.
In that short span of time, Kenny had stolen his Zune and his cell phone, along with virtually every dime the boy had. It had been nothing short of miraculous that the young man hadn’t found his one supreme treasure. And he wouldn’t get the chance. The boy looked down the hall and saw Kenny walk out the door and drive off.
He wiped his face with his sleeve, scratching his lip in the process and pulling off the already-forming scab on his lip. The tears kept flowing. He felt he could stand another beating, but losing that coin was like losing his family all over again. He took a deep breath and looked around. Kenny had taken most of his clothes, so there wasn’t anything left to do but grab the twenty and the bus ticket he had hidden under the table lamp and head out the front door.
Greyhound Bus Station, Dodge City…
Teddy walked up to the ticket gate and smiled.
“Excuse me, please? Would you mind telling me when the next bus to Wichita leaves?” He asked. The clerk looked up and smiled; her wide toothy grin was a welcome sight after three months of hell.
“Six-thirty-five or so; depending.”
“Thank you very much,” Teddy returned the smile, evoking,
“You’re welcome, young lady.”
Teddy smiled once again and headed toward the door to wait outside. In the space of a half hour, his fortune had turned a bit as the flight he so long awaited had finally come, and the recognition she so longed for had finally arrived. She pulled her hoodie back, revealing nearly shoulder length blond hair; very unruly perhaps, but still long.
Wichita, Kansas…
Four hours later, she stood at the counter of the Riverside Cup of Tea. A young lady came up and smiled; just another blessing among small blessings, but a blessing to be sure.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m meeting a friend…Nancy Wadden?”
“Oh…that would be…” The girl grew red even as she smiled sweetly. A kindly looking woman, fortyish, came to the counter. The girl turned and spoke softly.
“This girl says she’s here to meet you, Daddy.” The girl giggled a bit; it never ceased to amuse her in a pleasant way.
“You must be Teddi. This is my daughter Janine.” The woman smiled and the girl beamed.
“Oh…I talked to you on the phone. I hope you like it here. You’ll be in my classes at school this fall, and I can introduce you to all my friends.” She smiled again and turned to help a customer. The woman stepped from behind the counter and led Teddi to a booth where they sat down. She smiled again; this was going to be alright, the girl thought to herself and the woman spoke once more.
“I’ve already talked with social services; they know about your situation, and I’ve got a nice couple from the Lutheran Church around the corner that you can stay with. Welcome home, Teddi… welcome home!"
The girl looked around and the tears began to flow, but for the first time in months they were tears, not of grief or pain but of relief and joy. She put her hand in her pocket and fingered the small plastic case … the 1969-S double obverse Lincoln penny secure in her hand. She sighed with a half-grin and pondered the woman’s words…
“Welcome home!”
 |
Keira's Wish
What should I do? Where can I go? |
Rialto, California...
Keira Dennison sported a very painful looking black eye, and her eyes were red from crying.
“Keira? Look at me…“ Joey Yan sat on the couch next to her; his expression one of great concern.
“I’m alright… I’ll be okay.” She said it but her lowered head said otherwise.
“That’s what you said the last time. You can’t keep letting him do this to you.” Joey thought about grabbing her chin and softly lifting it up, but she didn’t need one more man laying a hand on her. He leaned closer and spoke in a near whisper.
“Honey…you need to get some help. He’s not going to change; not for you, not for anyone until he gets help himself, and that won’t happen if you keep letting him do what he does.”
“Where can I go…he’s the only one who cares about me….” She cried but stopped and gasped.”
“I’m so sorry, Joey…I didn’t mean it that way. You and Neil have been so good to me…since, you know.”
“I knew what you meant, Keira…it’s just we care about you.” Joey and his parter Neil had been like big brothers…well more like a big sister and a big brother to Keira since she moved to Rialto after college. She had been welcomed home by her parents, but the constant bickering and her father’s outbursts made it too painful to stay.
“Listen…we’ve got plenty of room, sweetie. Come stay with us. There’s a support group that meets in our church that you could go to, and I could always use some help in the store. You’re a whiz with cameras and photography.”
“But…maybe if I change. I can dress nicer.” She looked down at the blouse and jeans she was wearing; pretty much what she could afford since she wasn’t allowed to keep her own money.”
“Sweetie…you could wear Vera Wang and he’d still hit you. It’s not about you...it’s about him…he can’t control himself. You said it the other day; he’s just like your dad…you grew up around this…” Joey shook his head and bit his lip out of frustration. Joey met Keira’s father the day she moved from Sacramento, and found the man to be charming and handsome.
Keira’s mother, on the other hand, was almost a cypher; nodding and smiling for the most part, and agreeing with everything Keira’s dad had to say, but the nearly blank look on her face reminded Joey of his own mother, and Mr. Dennison was just like his dad. They both presented well to the outside world, their true selves remaining hidden, like some devious pod person from another planet.
“I really need you to promise me to consider this. You don’t deserve to be hit…Hell, nobody deserves it.”
“Look…I gotta get home…he’s working late, and I want to have something special for dinner for him when he gets home, you know. Maybe if I wear a dress…I’m sure he’ll like that.”
“Keira…listen to yourself. He nearly broke your eye socket with that punch and you’re worried about what to wear. The last time he hit you he nearly broke your arm. What will it be tonight? Chicken Kiev and Donna Karan and a ruptured spleen?” Joey regretted the attempt at humor.
“Listen…I’m sorry. After Neil you’re the most precious person in my life. I just made a stupid joke.” Joey began to tear up. He looked away, but only for a moment.
“He’s going to get worse if he doesn’t get help. Every day you stay there you put yourself in danger. You are a very nice girl who is convinced that you’ll never be able to find someone if you leave him.”
“But I love him, Joey. He’s the only guy I know that would put up with….” She quickly glanced downward out of habit, her own eyes filled with tears.”
“First of all, you are not someone to be ‘put up with.’ You are a sweet and caring girl that is as kind as the day is long. Any guy would be blessed to have you in his life. He’s not the only guy… he’s just the first and only guy because you can’t imagine anyone else…you’re just like my mom…you feel like you deserve to be hurt.”
“I’m not…he says I’m lucky that he cares or I’d be all alone.”
“But that’s just it, Keira. Whether he intends to or not, when he says things like that he just tears you down. It’s like you’re out in the middle of a lake and you’re sinking…you keep bailing water and he keeps poking holes in the bottom of the boat. Please…you don’t deserve it…you don’t, and you need to knowjust how valuable you are…to me…to Neil…and to God.
“He says that God doesn’t care for me…not since I… changed.” She glanced down again.
“God never stopped loving you, Keira. That doesn’t make sense. It would mean that God cares less about you than he does. God won’t forgive you but he will?” Joey was getting frustrated, and he was so afraid that she’d return to Richie.
“I don’t know what to do. Oh, Joey...I'm such a screw up...” She lowered her head and gazed at her body, once again feeling inauthentic and false. She saw no future without him and she never would have much of a future with him. She was so entangled that she couldn’t really pull away without leaving part of herself behind. But staying would mean her own emotional garden would get choked with his weeds. Joey took a deep breath; if he was too firm it would be a duplicate of Richie’s control. Too soft and he feared he’d lose her for good.
“Keira…look at me…please.” This time he did cup her chin softly. He raised in and placed his palm on the side of her face.
“You are not a screw-up! You are an intelligent and kind and pretty woman. You’re just as precious to me as my own sister and you mean the world to me. I’m telling you as a brother and a friend; you know what you need to do. It will hurt worse than any punch he ever threw, but it will be over. If you stay with him he’ll kill you. He might not kill you outright, but he’ll kill you every day…just the same as if you died…and you’ll end up just like your mother and mine. You don’t…” He started to choke up.
“You don’t have to die, Keira. I want you to live…Please live for me? Come and live with us. Please?”
That evening...
The door bell rang; it was almost like clockwork as it chimed at 6:30 pm. Joey got up from the couch and walked to the door. Opening it, he discovered a very imposing figure on the landing. The man was dressed in the dark blue uniform of the Rialto Police Department.
“Hi, you must be Richie,” Joey said, holding out his hand.”
“Oh, hi. Joey? We talked on the phone. Keira’s mentioned you. Nice to meet you.”
Joey’s first impression was entirely as expected. The man was charming and handsome.
“I’m here to pick up Keira,” he said as he glanced over Joey’s shoulder looking for her.
“Well, gee, Richie, but I’m sorry; there’s been a change in plans.”
“I don’t understand…I thought you said she was here.” The man maintained control, but his expression belied the calm voice as his frustration was immediately apparent.
“Oh, you’re not mistaken…she’s here. She’s just not coming.” Joey smiled warmly; his intent was earnestly polite and conciliatory.
“Did you folks have plans? I wish you’d mentioned that while we were on the phone before.” His face almost resembled a pouting child who was about to get angry. Richie was used to getting his way, and rarely faced disappointment; at least in his personal life.
“Oh, Keira does have plans.” It was almost priceless. Just then Keira walked out of the kitchen and up to the front door. She took a deep breath, as if she were on the high board getting ready for a dive.
“Hi, Richie. How are you?” She smiled.
“When will you be ready to come home?” No hello, no ‘hi honey.’ His level of tolerance was set to nearly zero and his impatience showed immediately.
“I’m not coming home.” She winced only slightly out of habit but shrugged her shoulders in resolve for the inevitable,
“What do you mean…We had plans.” He almost mewled, but in a deep baritone, like a sick lion.
“No…Richie…you had plans. Remember? I was going to start the review class for the GRE tonight but you called the school and canceled for me.”
“Well…I’m sorry.” The ‘I’m sorry’ that is spoken only to avoid conflict and not express remorse; Richie was very good at apologizing insincerely even as he demonstrated once again a need to be sorry.
“No you’re not.” She surprised herself.
“Look,” he said, completely ignoring her. “I’ve got reservations for that restaurant we like, and..’ She held up her hand and spoke.
“No, Richie. Not tonight…Not any night.”
“What are you saying?” The question that demands an answer for, not for what was said, but for what was unsaid.
“I’m not coming home, Richie. I’m leaving you.”
“What do you mean? Leaving me? You can’t do that…Where will you go…who will take care of you.” The standard arguments.
“That’s not your concern anymore.”
“The hell it’s not! You need to stop this nonsense and come home. Now!” His anger was no longer hidden behind his charm, and it was actually frightening to watch the quick transformation. She stood her ground.
“Listen…you need to get in the car.” He pointed to the patrol car outside; almost as if he were arresting her instead of escorting her home.
“No, Richie. Not after this.” She pointed to her black eye, which had darkened and grown a greenish purple.
“Look, I’m sorry about that…I promise I’ll get help…we don’t need to talk about this in front of your friend,” he went back to pleading.
“NO! Not anymore…you’ve been promising for a year now.”
“But this time it’s different. I promise.”
“No, Richie.” She folded her arms and turned sideways to avoid his glare. She was struggling not to cry, and Joey noticed.
“I’m sorry, Richie…she’s made her intentions quite clear. I think it would be best if you left.” He put his hand softly on Richie’s arm. Richie pulled it away.
“Listen…” He went to add an expletive but thought better of it.
“This is between her and me…I think you should mind your own business.”
“But this is my business; Keira is like family to me, and I won’t have you abusing her any longer.” Even though Joey was nearly six inches shorter than Richie, he stood taller in a sense at that moment.
“I’m telling you to mind your own goddam business.” The charm departed completely and the rage began to take over.
“Please leave, Richie…I’m not coming home…it’s not home…” She realized at that moment without voicing the words that it had never been home. Richie went to step past Joey toward Keira but Joey stood his ground.
“What…are you going to try and stop me?” Richie laughed sarcatically as his bullying personality was completely unmasked. Just then a figure stepped out of the kitchen, almost on cue.
“We are.” Richie looked at the man behind Joey and Keira and his face turned white.
“I believe the young lady has made her intentions clear, Sergeant Womack.” Standing tall and resplendent in his own Riato Police Uniform was Chief Donetti…Chief Neil Donetti, Richie’s boss and Joey Yan’s partner.
“Um…Chief…I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Richie blurted out.
“Listen carefully, Womack…Do you think you can do that?” Neil tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t hide his appreciation for the moment and grinned just a bit. Not waiting for an answer, Neil continued.
“I’m going to say this once. Restraining orders seem to be as worthless as the paper they’re printed on. I, on the other hand, hold your future in my hands and I also carry a weapon, which for the most part I am loath to unholster. However, if I find you within a mile of this young lady, I might reconsider my decision. You can turn around and go home. I will arrange for Keira to come to your home to pick up her belongings with my and my partners help. You will be out of the home at the time we arrive, and I will call you to let you know we have departed. Don’t answer. Just nod and back out quietly.”
Richie went to speak and Neil held up his hand.
“Leave, Womack…Now!” With that he was out the door and gone.
Joey turned and breathed a sigh of relief only to find Keira leaning against the wall, sobbing. They all had expected it would be painful. He stepped closer to her and hugged her from behind. She turned and put her head on his shoulder like any little sister would do with her big brother. Neil walked over and placed his hand on her shoulder.
"I still love him...Oh god, I still love him."
"I know, honey...I know." Joey said, trying not to cry.
“It’s going to be okay, Keira…I promise,” Neil said softly; exactly like a big brother.
And in time it would be.
 |
Petey's Wish
Sports? What about sewing? |
Geneva, New York...Youth Soccer Field Complex...
Petey Weber sat on the knoll overlooking the soccer field. Tryouts, such as they were, consisted of showing up and basically not falling down too much. He had gotten a late start in the sport since almost all of the kids had been playing since they were five. At ten, he was pretty much as average a child as you could find at first glance, even if a bit small. He was, however, very awkward; some might even have called him clumsy. Nevertheless there he was; fulfilling someone else’s life-long dream of having a sports hero, even down to his nickname.
“Hey Champ…how did practice go?” He turned to his father’s voice.
“Okay, I guess. Everybody knows what they’re doing, Dad.” His voice begged off having to keep going and his father anticipated his plea.
“Listen, Pete…you gotta hang in there. You can’t just give up when things don’t go your way. I know you can do this, Champ, so keep at it.” Justin Weber wasn’t a harsh father at all. He wasn’t even the one who had put the mantel of sports hero on the boy’s back. That had been his own father’s idea. He hoped that by letting the boy just play and get his feet wet, so to speak, that everyone would just let the boy be, but that wasn’t going to happen. A figure came up behind him and placed his hand on Justin’s shoulder.
“You’ve got a budding star here, Junior. You’ve got to stay on him…he’s got to understand that success comes through discipline and hard work. Maybe he can show you a thing or two before long, right?”
Justin Sr. wasn’t a harsh man either, but he was inflexible. Justin had grown up under his father’s idea of discipline, and had sone his best not to pass along his father’s insistent demands.
“It’s a wonder that he’s even able to kick a ball, considering his background.” Justin’s Dad thought that being demanding and unrealistic was helpful. At least he hadn’t said it loud enough for the napping boy in the back seat. If there was a wonder, and it truly was, it was that Justin turned out to be a great Dad married to a great woman and raising a great….child.
On the ride back, things went relatively well until Justin's dad reached into his wallet and produced a twenty.
"Here...get the boy a haircut...he's starting to look like his sister!"
Nothing more was said.
After they dropped Senior off at home, the Weber boys decided to go out to lunch. Bridgette was working her weekend on at the hospital and Cindy was at her cousin's for a sleepover, so that left them all by themselves both Saturday and Sunday.
MacDonald's...a while later...
“Dad…can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Champ.” He actually had a lot to ask, but at ten, he was unsure of himself and how far his father could go to understand.
“Will you still love me if I don’t play soccer?” Justin looked at his son and shook his head; not at the boy but at himself that he would even feel the need to ask.
“Of course.” He smiled but the boy continued as if he hadn’t heard the response.
“’Cause like I don’t wanna play but I will ‘cause I don’t want you to be like him…you know? Grandpa Weber? You don’t hate me, do you?” No tears, no crying…just matter of fact.
“Why do you say that?” Justin said and took a breath and bit his lip.
“’Cause I see you when he talks to you and you look sad, Dad. I mean I don’t want be sad like you are, okay?”
“You think I treat you like he…like he treats me?”
“Well…you don’t yell and you sometimes want me to do stuff I can’t, but no…I’m just afraid, Dad.”
“You’re afraid…of me?”
“No…I’m afraid ‘cause I got other stuff I gotta ask you and you’re already crying.” The boy reached over and grabbed his father’s hand. Justin only realized that the boy’s questions had hurt enough to cause him to cry in public; something he hadn’t done since his father yelled at him in front of his friends.
“And Dad…could you call me Petey like Mom does…I don’t like ‘Champ,’ Okay?”
“Shh…sure, Pete…Petey. What else did you want to ask me?” He asked and wondered what else the boy could want to talk about, as if his first question hadn’t been enough.”
“I…like other things…you know…besides soccer.” He really didn’t like soccer at all, and hoped his father understood that even if he hadn’t said it aloud.
“You like other things…I know you like pets; you take care of your rabbit real good…” He caught himself.
“Petey!”
“Yeah… Bugsy is a good rabbit. He’s fun…and I think I can do a good job at other stuff, you know?”
“Like what, Petey?”
“Well…Cindy showed me how to do something, you know. And I’m pretty good at it.” Justin wondered where the boy was going.
“I can sew clothes. I helped her with her skirt and she let me…” The boy’s voice drifted off and he turned away. Sewing wasn’t the issue even if that’s what he was talking about. Justin was shocked; what father would be if he had to ask the question he was going to ask his son. He breathed out, fearing the worst, which wasn’t even bad, but still something brand new and hard to wrap his brain around.
“She let you do what, Champ?” The boy turned toward him but turned away quickly. Justin touched the boy’s shoulder and said softly,
“I’m sorry, Petey. It’s not easy to remember after all the times I called you the other name. I’ll try harder, I promise. What did Cindy let you do?”
The boy turned to face Justin and tears were streaming down his cheeks.
“She…she let me try on the skirt.” He didn’t have to finish with ‘I liked it,’ since it was etched on his face, along with embarrassment, shame, guilt, and the fear that his father would reject him.
“What?” Justin said loudly. He hadn’t meant to react the way he did, but it was a shock even if it was something that would never come between them. Nevertheless, Petey took his father both at his volume and tone. Despite being in a public place, the boy burst into tears. He got up and ran to the restroom. Justin quickly followed.
A few seconds later, Justin was leaning against the men's room door.
“Petey…I’m sorry…please…I didn’t mean it…but…” Justin caught himself trying to justify his reaction. The boy didn’t need explanations or excuses.
“Petey…I’m sorry I got so upset. It’s okay. I…I don’t mind.” He did mind, but only because it was something that required more than just a nod of the head or a smile. He had to consciously make an effort to accept and even embrace what Petey had just told him.
“You hate me! Just like Grandpa Weber hates you.” The boy sobbed from behind the locked door. The commotion brought a woman in her thirties who said,
“I’m sorry? We heard the boy. Is everything okay?” The look of concern on her face indicated more than just concern. He looked up and spoke.
“I just said something to my son that was very hurtful and he’s really upset. Can you give me a few more minutes?”
“Go ahead; don’t worry.” The tears in his own eyes convinced her that everything would indeed be okay.
“Listen, Petey…I love you. I can’t think of a single more exciting and wonderful thing than to be your dad, okay? Please come out?” His voice was halting and he had to choke back a sob in the middle, but a moment later he heard the door unlock.
“You…you don’t…hate me?” The look on Petey’s face was more of recognition and relief than surprise.
“No, Petey, I don’t hate you. I love you…very much, okay?” He didn’t ask to reassure himself, but to let the boy know it was okay to ask and doubt and wonder.
“Okay.” He put his hand out and Justin took it. It’s usually embarrassing for a ten year old boy to get a hug at a MacDonald’s in front of twenty or so people. But Justin picked the boy up and hugged him nonetheless, and the boy hugged back.
The boy sat in the passenger seat up front next to his father, finishing his french fries. He looked over at Justin and smiled, and Justin smiled back, even though he was still fighting through several decades worth of delayed tears of shame and guilt of his own. He breathed out and smiled again and asked,
“So…do you have any more questions for me?”
“A couple, if that’s alright.”
“Sure, Petey, sure.”
“Does Granpa Weber really hate you?” The question and all of the implications it brought made Justin shudder. He glanced back and forth between Petey and the road ahead before saying,
“No, Petey. He doesn’t hate me.”
“Does he love you?”
“In his own way. He just never learned how to love me, but he’s been trying awfully hard.”
It was true. While old habits were far from broken, Justin Senior had apologized after a fashion to him a few years back. And Justin never held it against his father when he failed, as hard as that was. His heart and spirit, the very things that enabled him to forgive his father, were the very things that made him a good father himself.
“I guess Grandpa is to being a dad like I am to soccer.”
“How’s that, Petey?”
“He just needs a lot of practice.” The joke was welcome and fun, and it brought the two
of them closer together, as if the day’s bonding hadn’t already done that. But things would get even more interesting with one last question.
“Dad?” The voice was almost ominous.
“What, Petey?”
“Is it okay for me to be a girl and still like baseball?”
Justin glanced quickly at Petey and back at the road before saying,
“Ummm….yes, Petey, it’s okay.” His expression changed enough to where Petey asked one last question.
“Dad?”
“Umm, yeah Petey?”
“We’ve got a lot more to talk about, don’t we?”
“Yep…that we do, suuh...Petey, that we do!” Justin sighed and smiled and thought to himself,
“That we do”
 |
Nina's Wish
Dancing? But I want to be an architect |
Madame Renault's Dance Studio, Paramus, New Jersey...
Nick sat on the bench, his head back resting against the wall. The practice went for an extra half hour as Mrs. Renault put the troupe through their paces, to use an old expression. The recital, only one of several, took on an importance of its own since the article appeared in the town paper.
“Local Boy Another Billy Elliot?”
Nick cringed when he remembered the fuss everyone had made of his dancing; mostly well meaning, but to the exclusion of the other dancers. He and Gino Danetti were the only boys in the class of nearly twenty, and some of the girls were upset over the article.
“Brilliant beyond his age!” it said, leaving him with an unwanted reputation, both as a dancer and as an attention seeker. Neither description was accurate. Certainly he didn’t want attention; he was trying as hard as he could to fade into the background. And he felt he wasn’t nearly as good as the article made out; he was fairly talented, but stood out like a rose among…other roses. The girls had been nice enough to his face, but the whispers and laughs stopped when he entered the room. He heard some of the comments. Things like,
“He’s prettier than you, Lisa...” Or, “Did you see the way he moves…what a girl.”
To say he was conflicted would have been a huge understatement. At fifteen, he was still small at five-five, and he almost lithe in his form and movements. He purposefully had taught himself to walk ‘heavy’ outside of ballet to appear more masculine. It didn’t really work at all, and he continued to be the target of teasing in school.
But his conflict wasn’t with the perception. He was for all intents and purposes a very feminine looking boy, albeit talented more than he was willing to admit. The conflict was in that he secretly embraced the perception. He had known almost since he was able to walk that he was a good dancer; his destiny was as a ballerina… the feminine version wasn’t a mistake. At six he cried himself to sleep nightly, as prayers went unanswered.
“God…why can’t I be like Mommy?”
Nick didn’t just idolize his mother; he wanted to be a girl. Wanted is such a weak way of putting it. Nick knew he was a girl; he had no idea what that meant at six; at ten he still prayed, but with understanding as it says somewhere.
“I know I’m not a boy, God…can you help me tell Mommy? Will Daddy listen?” He still cried himself to sleep, but not as the six year old boy, but as a ten year old girl who had begun to understand just how different she was.
Health class explained things in some ways, leaving her more confused and frightened in others. Frighten is such a strong word to use; like being scared while watching a horror film. But a girl can be frightened at the horrorific prospect of growing up in the wrong body; forced to be something she is not. At fourteen, Nick gave himself a new name. It was almost like only he and God knew who she was …Nina.
Nina cried herself to sleep every night as she realized she would be barren; no babies would ever come from the womb that never grew. Her unwanted…thing remained a sad reminder of what she was; a freak. As much as the textbooks and internet articles gave her hope, the snickers and snide remarks her parents would make when they watched a program on Nightline about a man who was living as a woman with his family hurt her.
“That’s just so weird,” her father laughed nervously.
“I don’t know why they feel that way.”
Her mother had shaken her head as if the man had a choice; as if it was a feeling instead of a painful realization that the man…and their son had undergone…the daughter who stood in the alcove behind the living room where they sat, crying softly to herself in hopeless fear.
And now at fifteen; destined to become a great dancer; a boy in a girl’s venue some had said, completely missing the point of ballet and certainly never in the position to hear the boy’s plea to let him be…He didn’t want to be a dancer at all. And he didn’t want to be a he. He wasn’t a he. She was Nina Sheridan, a girl with hopes and dreams that went beyond what talent supposedly had defined.
The latest recital went superbly well; every arts and entertainment writer in the tri-state area had attended the presentation, wondering just how good Nick Sheridan was. He didn’t disappoint them, sadly for someone else, so to speak. The Times proclaimed him the next Nureyev. The News said,
“Barishnikov, move over! There’s a new star in town.”
Nick didn’t have it in him to underperform; he danced his usual spectacular self even though he almost wished he’d have tripped and fallen at the beginning. Perhaps he’d do well enough to show that he was ‘good,’ while discouraging the idea that he was somehow ‘brilliant?’ But he couldn’t.
On the ride home after the show, he sat in the back of the SUV and looked out the window. It had been snowing, and he leaned his cheek on the cold window. And he began to sob.
“What’s wrong, Nick…you danced beautifully. They loved you.” His mother turned around and patted his knee. He cried harder.
“It’s probably nerves…you know how things go after a performance, honey.” His father said.
And all the while the boy…the girl sobbed even harder. They loved him…not her. He danced beautifully …she wanted to walk away.
“It’s okay, honey… You did so well; you’ve got nothing to worry about.” His mother rubbed his back as they walked in the house. Nick turned and looked into his mother’s eyes. She was filled with pride and love for her son, but it seemed that she would never have room for her daughter. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and shook his head before running to his room.
“What’s wrong?” His father called as he walked into the house even as his wife was running down the hallway after their son.
“I don’t know…” Her voice trailed off as she entered his room. He was lying face down on his bed, sobbing harder than Collette had ever seen.
“Honey…what’s the matter? You’re just brilliant…you’ve got nothing to worry about.
The boy turned over on his side and then sat up, pulling his mother in for a hug.
“Mom…I can’t do this…it’s not right…you just don’t know.”
“What’s not right, honey? Tell me… I’m here.” Collette felt the bed sag as Dave sat down on the other side. He reached over and grabbed her hand.
“Nick… what’s wrong… are you okay?” Dave was worried; they had never seen him cry like this.
“D…Dad…” He could only get that out before he began to sob.
“Do you think we have to go to the ER?“ She looked at Dave; he shrugged in confusion.
“I’m…I’m not sick.”
“What is it then, honey…. Why are you so upset? You did so well tonight….everybody loved you.” Dave said.
“That’s….that’s just it….I didn’t do well at all…HE did….everybody loved HIM!”
“What…I don’t understand…who did well…who is he? What are you talking about?”
“Him…Nick…the boy….HE danced…they loved HIM.” More sobs; the bed shook as the child was nearly convulsive.
“Him? What are you talking about? You danced, Nick… they loved you. We love you.” Collette said. She was crying as well at this point. She pulled back a little and held
him at arms length. His face was etched with so much pain and sadness.
“Nicky…honey…what’s wrong?”
He took a deep breath and shook his head once again.
“Mom…” He glanced quickly to his left.
“Dad?” Dave nodded, his own eyes filled with tears at this point.
“I’m not that boy…he’s not who I am…I’m…”
“Stop talking like that…of course you are…you’re our son and we love you.”
“I…I know that you love him….me…oh God this is so hard…” It took nearly five minutes for the weeping to subside; helped along by both parents kissing the boy and holding him tight. He eventually calmed enough to speak; the most important thing he would ever tell his parents, because it was the last thing ‘he’ would ever say.
“My….my name is Nina.”
Quite some time later...Jensen Office Complex, Ridgewood, New Jersey...
“Sheridan Associates?” Yes…Would you mind holding?” The woman looked over and saw the girl standing in the office doorway.
“Chloe and I want to go to the Mall after practice, Mom. I asked Lisa and she said it was okay?” The girl shrugged a bit and laughed softly.
“Well, Bonnie, if your mother says it’s okay?” A joke the two of them shared, since her daughter had two moms.
“Okay, but you still have homework to do when you get back. No later than nine; okay?”
The girl nodded and blew her a kiss and was off. She smiled and hit the hold button on the phone.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting. This is Nina Sheridan-Kove speaking…oh Mayor Armetta…yes…the plans for the new civic center are completed….yes…oh yes…thank you……..”
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David's (and Jame's) Wish
Wish they’d come. |
The Allison home, Scarsborough, Ontario...
“For god’s sake, David, I just don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand? You’ve known this was going to happen, Mom. I’ve spent the better part of ten years trying to tell you. But for all the talking I’ve done, you just seem to hear what you want. I love you, Mom, but you don’t have a say in this unless it’s to tell me and Jimmy that you’ll be at the wedding.
“It just doesn’t seem right, David. There’s something just so unnatural about it.” Pam shook her head as she sat down at the kitchen table. She poured David another cup of coffee and one for herself.
“Mom…please. It’s not David…it hasn’t been David since high school. I hoped you would at least have liked my choice of names.” She sighed, more out of frustration. Her mother, perplexed and confused as usual, at least wasn’t offering any resistance.
“Of course I like the name. It was very nice of you to pick your grandmother’s name. But she…I don’t know how she’d react, knowing her grandson is named after her.”
“Mom…I’m not her grandson…and I’m not your son.” Helen put her head down and began to cry. She had gotten almost past the disappointment and sadness from her mother’s lack of affirmation. But with the wedding only three weeks away, the stress of trying to bring the family together was too much for one girl to handle and she dissolved into frustrated tears. A moment later her sister Megan walked into the kitchen and sat down.
“Mom…what did you say?” Megan shook her head and put her hand on Helen’s back, rubbing it softly.
“I didn’t say anything, Megan…now don’t go starting something.” Pam snapped.
“It’s not what you say that hurts her, Mom…at least not always. It’s really what you don’t say. You haven’t even called her by her name…not once at least while I’ve been around, and since I live here, that’s an awfully long time to be rejected by her own mother.” Megan began to cry, but her tears were from anger; she had endured a similar hurt years ago when she came out to her mother about her love for her best friend Angie.
“Now…what would you have me do, lie?” Pam shook her head and looked away.
“I still love him…that hasn’t stopped, but this makes no sense at all. He’s a boy, and that’s all there is to it!”
“Do you remember visiting her in the hospital in 2010, Mom? I mean, she didn’t have her tonsils out. She didn’t have a knee operation. For Christ’s sake, Mom…”
“Now don’t you start cursing at me. I’m doing the best I can. He and Jimmy are welcome here anytime, but I can’t call them something they’re not.
“Mom…your daughter is sitting her weeping, and all you do is hold onto an OPINION! It’s not for you to decide who Helen is…that’s between her and Christ.” Megan stared at her mother, who lifted an eyebrow and stared back, opening her mouth to make a comment.
“No, Mom…I didn’t curse. I really mean it. You didn’t get upset when you had me…at least you didn’t think I was somehow twisted or wrong.” Megan shifted her attention to her left arm; shortened at the elbow. She lifted her right leg to point at her prosthesis, which allowed her to feel at least marginally like she fit in with ‘two’ feet.
“No…it’s not the same…that…” Pam put her hand to her mouth and began to tear up.
“You didn’t know, Mom…it was at a time when you and Daddy were having…you couldn’t conceive, Mommy….lots of women took it, and it helped some…just not all of us.” She looked at her arm again, not as a reminder to her mother, but a reminder to herself before she continued.
“I didn’t have to worry about anything, Mom…you accepted it… ‘Maybe it’s a test?’ you said. I don’t know why, but it was a test we all passed. I’ve never felt less than anyone in my entire life, and it’s because you and Daddy loved me…unconditionally. You even accepted Angie, and that was such…such a precious thing when she passed. I wouldn’t have gotten over it if you and Daddy hadn’t held me close. You said you were sorry, once….why not now.
“Because it’s my fault he’s this way.” Pam reached over and touched Helen’s back, softly rubbing his back as well.
“It’s my fault…that’s what Nancy Parillo said…he’s not ‘wired’ the right way…that he should have felt like he was a boy, but the drug made him develop….wrong.”
“Mom…I love you, but Nancy Parillo doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about. If that’s the case, you should just take back all of the apologies you ever gave me and tell me I’m just as wrong, since all this shit happened before either of us were born, and it’s no one’s fault, since there is no offense or sin to be seen…You and Daddy were desperate, and this is what happened. I don’t wear glasses…Helen doesn’t wear a hearing aid. Would we be any less of your children if we did?”
“Of course not, Megan…that’s just plain foolish.”
“But it’s not, Mom….I’m not near sighted…I just have deficiencies in my overall physical makeup, like Dr. Cardone said; deficiencies that you helped me to overcome. Helen was born with the wrong equipment; not because of you or even the drug…we just are who we are.
“I don’t know, honey.”
“Helen, lift your head, hon…please,” Megan said softly with her face against Helen’s. Slowly the girl lifted her head. Her face was a mask of tears, but not all of her crying was from the frustration and sadness. Megan had always been the strong one…even when they were little. It was hard being a twin, but she gave David all the strength anyone could ever get from another human being.
“Mom…look at her. She’s beautiful. Not gorgeous or even ‘beautiful’ in a classical sense. Helen still remained a bit boyish in appearance, mostly due to her ‘process’ starting later in life. But she was beautiful…Pam’s other daughter…the confusion had never been Helen’s, but hers.
“He is…pretty, I guess.”
“Mom….please…look at HER…she’s pretty…She’s your daughter, just as much as me.” She shook her head, but her anger had diminished somewhat as she felt at least that one more time she had protected Helen.
In hospital, Montreal, Quebec...
“Do you know how much I love you?” Helen gazed at Jamie with an almost child-like devotion. Jamie smiled and waved as she lay on her back on the gurney. The nurse smiled and said,
“She’ll be in recovery for quite a while, sweetie. One of us will come out to the waiting room and get you when she goes up to the room, okay?”
“Helen…” Jamie looked back at Helen and began to cry.
“No…don’t….I don’t care what anyone says, you’re doing the right thing. You’ve known even longer than I have. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world and you’re all mine.”
“Why won’t they come? Is there something wrong with me?” She looked up at the ceiling and shook her head.
“I’ll give you a few minutes, sweetie…I think this is important enough that the doctor can wait a bit.” The nurse smiled at both of them and left the room.
“They’re feeling guilty. They think we’re somehow making a mistake…rather than us just correcting one. You and I know that, and that, dear one, is all that matters…at least until we figure out how to talk with them.”
“I think it hurts more that they love me.” It made no sense, but it did make sense; both to Jamie and Helen, since it was a benign rejection.
“I know…they love us on their terms… If you and I came to them and said we were going to live together; still as David and James? I think after Megan lost Angie they finally figured that out. But they feel like somehow we need to be fixed…not our bodies…but us…that we’re wrong and if we pray enough or cry enough or get enough therapy or the right meds, we’ll just let it go.”
Jamie turned her head to one side and began to sob. Helen leaned over the gurney and spoke softly.
“I don’t know what to say…without sounding like a Hallmark card, but you loved me when no one else would…I mean…Megan has always supported me, but even when you and I were kids, you were the only friend…you always saw me as who I was. I’ve only been Helen legally since the state changed my birth certificate, but you knew me as Helen when we were in Middle School.
And you’ve been Jamie…my girl…since I first laid eyes on you. They don’t know any better, but they will. I wish they loved US…who we really are. Our love and our life together will show them…not how wrong they are, but what they’re missing, okay. I love my Mom and I know you love your Dad and Mom, so it’ll be okay. I don’t know how, but I promise…
“I love you.” Jamie said as Helen kissed her cheek.
“Me, too!”
< |
Amanda's Wish
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The McDougal home, Henrietta, Neew York...
“No, Mom…I’m not going….” Sid sat down on the couch and folded his arms.
“You know how much this means to her… It would be a nice gesture.” Julia looked at her son and half-smiled. It had been a very difficult four years for the family.
“Nice? How about he offers a nice gesture; like bringing back my Dad….” Sid shook his head. He seemed the most affected by Dan’s decision. Of course it affected the whole family, but Sid took his father’s choice personally; not that it really was much of a choice, and certainly it wasn’t meant to hurt anyone.
“I mean, Mom…come on…do you still even love him?” Sid stood up and walked to the mantel, where the family photos were displayed. He picked up their wedding photo and held it toward her with his right hand.
“Yes, Sid…I do…I took a vow.” She sighed as he continued to brandish the picture, almost like a DA confronting a hostile witness.
“Admit it, Mom…yeah…I know you took a vow. ‘In sickness and in health.’ Well, what he did was sick alright…I hate that he hurt you that way.” He paused as tears began to well up.
“Why even keep this…it’s like a fucking wake…all the pretty pictures of his wonderful life. “ He held the picture close to the fireplace, almost threatening to cast it into the flame. Julia stepped forward and held her arms out.”
“No…don’t!” He shook his head and a sad frown crossed his face.
“I’m…I’m sorry, Mom…but it’s like he died…like someone just came along and killed my father, and it hurts…more than I can remember anything hurting.
“Sid…please…he’s….not dead. You have to remember that….no matter what you think, he never stopped loving you…you still have two parents….don’t push away what you already have. Please, Sid.
“I can’t, Mom….it just hurts too much. Maybe you can deal with a wife instead of a husband, but I can’t deal with losing my dad…I just can’t.” Julia stepped closer and hugged him. He leaned on her shoulder and wept.
“I know, honey…I miss him, too.”
Sophia McDougal's apartment...
“I don’t understand, Daddy….no…I don’t…no…I can’t…Daddy?” Sophia stood in the middle of her living room after nearly five minutes of pacing. She finally decided to make the call, but already regretted her decision.
“I know you love me….it’s just…I can’t bear to be near you….it’s too much of a reminder…yes…I still love you…I always will, but that’s just it…I don’t love…her….I don’t know….I just don’t.” She stepped over to her bookshelf and picked up the picture nestled between her bronzed baby booties and a photo of the family taken before everything changed.
“Yes….I have it…yes, Daddy…I know…the eyes are the windows to the soul.” She focused on their expressions.
“You were proud of me….yes…I played for you…yes…I can’t play for her…I just can’t…that was something special between you and me….no…I know, Daddy, but everything is different…Daddy…please…don’t make me choose….I can’t…” She began to tear up: her face was almost twisted in pain.
“Yes….the other picture. What? Yes…of course…what? Your face? Yes…oh Daddy..I never…what? Yes…I can see that…Yes…I guess it did hurt….Was she….even then? Really…How did…I don’t understand?” Sophia stared at the other photo on the shelf. The two children, in their late teens when it was taken, looked very happy. Her mother smiled, but there was almost an underlying sadness…And she noticed for the first time that her father was smiling at them…his face looking at her and Sid. And her mother’s hand was gripping his, like she was concerned.
“Daddy…No…I don’t know. Listen…I’ve got to go…Yes…I’ll call you next week.” She went to hit the ‘end’ button on the cell, but put the phone to her ear one last time.
“Daddy? Daddy?” Her voice was urgent and worried, but she finally said calmly,
“Daddy? I love you.”
Rush Public Library, Rush, New York
“I’m sorry, Amanda, but I don’t see them…” Julia walked over to her best friend and grabbed both of her hands.
“You did what you needed to do…I know it was hard, but we all knew, even if we didn’t want to know, honey.” She shook her head as the woman’s eyes began to flood.
“Now, honey…that won’t do…you’ll get your strings soggy.” Julia laughed softly and Amanda joined her, but only briefly before she faced toward the door.
“Aren’t these the same arms that carried him? Aren’t these the same eyes that saw her play…the same ears that heard them sing? I wish they’d change their minds.”
“Honey…Admit it…you had years to get ready for this, even if it hurt like hell along the way…remember, I lost something, too.” Julia half-frowned, but noticed the look of defeat on Amanda’s face.
“But I gained so much more…a best friend who I knew I could still count on…and know that she’d still be around.” Julia choked back a sob, remembering Amanda’s bout with depression.
“And at the end of the day, I still am deeply and madly in love with you, no matter who gets to use the bathroom first.” She laughed softly, but her eyes were filling with tears that surpassed that of Amanda’s.
“They’ll come around…I’m sure of it…just don’t expect things to change quickly. As Kris told you the other day in your session, grief is unpredictable when it comes to time…there’s no expiration date on it, you know? They suffered a loss, whether or not we wanted to admit it, and they both will deal with it; each in their own way and each in their own time.”
She kissed Amanda on the cheek, tasting her tears, which had streaked her blush. She reached over on the desk and pulled out a makeup kit from her purse. After a few minutes, both faces were ‘repaired’ and ready for the evening.
A knock came at the door. Julia walked over and opened it. The woman smiled at Julia and looked over at Amanda, simply saying, it’s time.
Amanda took a deep breath and walked to the door. Julia kissed her on the cheek once again and the two walked into the library.
“Ms. McDougal is a local artist who has been away for a few years. You’ve read her biography. She played for The Rochester Philharmonic for years, but just as life changes for all of us, it changed for her. Daniel McDougal became Amanda McDougal, and she is happy to be here, as we are happy to have her, after her absence. You remember her talent and her devotion to music. Please remember her now as our friend and our neighbor as well. Amanda?”
She didn’t speak; between ‘learning how-to’s’ and nervous embarrassment, she went straight to playing, sitting on a stool with her guitar in hand. Martin Page’s Mi Morena… a love song…but without lyric it would just be a nice song played by a superb but sad guitarist. She began with the intro, planning to fill in with jazz riffs to take the place of the words. A few bars into the song, she heard a familiar voice.
And so my love
From my window I can see
A beautiful vision
And when the music plays
Your body rises like a bird of grace
Mi morena
I saw you dancing in the rain
Holy water
Shining like a silver flame
Come like a ghost
I will watch you dance alone
Mi morena
You're the light within my soul
Sid’s voice came from to Amanda’s right….
And so my love
The way you're moving in your dress
To a nylon guitar
On wings of silk and lace
You lift upon the notes and slip away
Amanda took a deep breath, almost but not quite overwhelmed with emotion. Seconds later, she had to stop as a flute was added to the mix. Sophia walked closer and stood by the stool and nodded with a tearful smile as Amanda began to play and Sid started singing once again.
Mi morena
I saw you dancing in the rain
Holy water
Shining like a silver flame
Come like a ghost
I will watch you dance alone
Mi morena
You're the light within my soul
Take this cross of feathers and bone
Take this heart I've carved in stone
In your name
Where the setting sun surrenders to the moon
Mi querida
I wait for you
Mi morena
Hold your hands out to the night
Be my lover
I will fall into your eyes
Sweet fire of love
Fo you I'd steal the stars
`Cause I adore you
O my morena
Julia stood off to the side; barely containing herself. The librarian walked over and put her arm around her and hugged her tight.
“Nice to see them back together.” She didn’t know it, but it was more than just a musical reunion….
“Yes…it is.”
As they finished playing, Sophia hugged Amanda and kissed her on both cheeks; almost a sign of greeting.
“I still love you, Daddy, but Amanda? Welcome to the family.” She kissed her again and ran to Julia, who welcomed her daughter with open arms as Sophia began to weep.
“I’m so sorry, Mom….”
“It’s okay, honey…it’s okay.”
“Sid?” Amanda looked up at her son and sobbed. Sid reached over and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. He answered the unasked question.
“I remember you carrying me to see Martin Page…my first concert…and the crowd was too big, so you put me on your shoulders so I could see….because I couldn’t, you know? I couldn’t see…Dad….but I prayed last night and it was like God put me on his shoulders….I’m so sorry….I’m not ready for this, but I am ready to be ready, and I do love you, okay?”
The librarian waited until the two had separated and turned to the audience.
“Ladies and Gentlemen…for the first time in several years, and apparently with a lot of tears and changes in between? I give you…The McDougals!
 |
Julie's Wish
|
Sometime ago....
Julie stood at the window, gazing at the driveway. Getting home had been chore to begin with, and it got worse as she played the messages back on her machine.
“Listen…Jules….I…I can’t make it tonight.” And then nothing; no apology or explanation, just an unemotional message on a tape.
“Why…” She sighed out loud. The next few words were almost stuck in her throat, as if saying them would not only admit the possibility, but seal them in amber like a sad charm on an even sadder bracelet. She breathed out and her lip quivered.
“Why doesn’t he want to be my friend anymore?”
“There… it’s out…that wasn’t so bad….” She thought.
No, it was worse than she expected. She continued to stare at the empty slot in the driveway, wanting him to pull up; sad and apologetic and warm and…the same man who knew her when she was Julian Fabienne; the best friendship anyone could ever have...more than a friendship...
“Buddies, Jules…It’s something special….not just friends, but like spitballs in class and making fun of girls in fourth grade….learning to like girls in fifth grade….fighting over girls in tenth and eleventh….Double dating for the prom in Senior year….” He had said with a strong pat on the back…and the best laugh in the history of friendship.
“What did I do? Am I bad? Is there something wrong with me? I wish I knew…”
She sighed again before walking to the couch where she fell down, collapsing against the back rest in tears.
The present…
“Julie? Are you okay?” The voice came from the bedroom.
“Oh, Andy…yes…it’s just…”
“Tonight...?”
“I know it’s been a long time, but still wish he would have come.” She sighed and turned to face her husband of twenty-two years. She stood up and smoothed the skirt of her gown before pulling Andy in for a kiss.”
“Any regrets?” She asked.
“Not at all…I’m the most blessed man in the whole world.” He kissed her again.
“And you deserve this night…I’m so proud of you.” He looked over at the statuette lying in an almost repose on the couch.
“’Best Supporting Actress’…a red letter day, to be sure.” He laughed at the irony of his statement.
“Hattie McDaniel and Halle Berre, move over…” he said as he nuzzled her neck.
“Yeppers…First time anyone in my family ever won anything.” Julie laughed softly before grabbing her wrap off the back of the couch.
“Pretty snazzy, lady….you look gorgeous, and the night is still young,” Andy said, kissing her one last time before they stepped out into the hotel hallway and toward the elevator. She noticed an envelope on the floor.
“To Julietta Fabienne”
Even after all these years, she still recognized the handwriting. She turned to her husband and shrugged as tears came to her eyes. He nodded and placed his hand on her shoulder as she used her nail to pull the flap, discovering a card with an embossed champagne glass and the word ‘Congratulations.” She opened it up and began to read aloud,
“I was so wrong then, and I am so sorry now. I wish I could make up the years we lost, and it hurts more than I can say that I cannot atone for what I did. I can only ask that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. Congratulations. I am so proud of you. Tommy”
By the time she finished reading the card was stained with tears as she had been crying softly. The card fell from her hand onto the floor and she placed her hand to her face and began to sob, ‘why…why?’ Andy leaned down and picked it up and stared at the card before mouthing the words silently,
“Dear Twin..."
CAUTION: This story depicts a therapy session involving a survivor of child molestation. Please exercise caution in reading this story, as it may trigger memories or flashbacks for the reader.
 |
Mika's Wish
|
The office of Dr. Gina DiBiaso
“Mika…tell me what you’re feeling right now. What’s going on?” The girl gripped the teddy bear tighter as the tears flowed down her cheeks. She started to shake and put her hand out as if she were waving for help. And her shaking intensified; almost like shivering in cold water.
“Mika…what’s happening?” The voice was safe…protective…a life preserver to grasp even as the memories threatened to close in over her and overwhelm her.
“He….he’s standing there…by my bed. I can smell him…” She rubbed her nose as it began to run; mostly from the tears she had already shed in the past half-hour, but also because the smell of his cologne, even if psychogenic at that point, still set off her allergies. She sneezed three times in succession before wiping her nose again with her arm, forgetting the tissues by her side.
“What’s he doing now, Mika?”
“He’s sitting on my bed….I can feel the weight…the bed….it’s creaking….Why won’t he leave me alone?” She began to shake again. A hand reached out to hold her, but Gina shook her head no, and the hand retreated.
“You’re shaking, Mika…are you cold?” The same question that got her to this point, but no further, seemed to fail once again until she said with a sob,
“He…pulled the covers off…I…I’m cold.” Mika still held the teddy bear close, but wrapped her arms around herself like a blanket.”
“It’s cold…very cold…you’re holding yourself.” Gina reflected the girl’s description.
“I’m cold….please…let me…please…I’m cold.” The girl sobbed, tears flowing unabated. Gina had noted the girl came into the sessions on occasion with bad headaches; the result of dehydration since the girl was crying every day since the flashbacks had begun.
“You’re very cold…you said please…what is happening, Mika…can you tell me?” Even with the success she was already having in therapy, the halting progress was frustrating. Gina didn’t want to push, but even the coaxing, as gentle as it was, might be too much for the girl to handle. She proved her wrong, almost sadly but for the fact that it was better to let it out, as painful as it would prove to be. The girl suddenly dropped the bear and started waving her hands, as if to fend off something. She was sobbing enough to shake the chair.
“No…please…you said…no….I’m cold…let me….you promised…no more…” It didn’t take much for Gina to understand; so often her patients had trust violated by repeated promises of ‘only once more…only this time,’ when the offender either had no intention to stop or was so entrenched in their addiction that they couldn’t. Either way, it was doubly painful, since the child had been lulled into a false sense of security.
“What did he promise Mika? What did he tell you?” Gina would never have brought it up, but it was up and out, so to speak, and she wanted the girl to have the chance…even if she couldn’t say right then and there.
“No…you promised…Oh God why…it’s not fair…no…you told me….you said.” By now the girl was nearly hysterical. Once again, a hand reached over to comfort, and once again, Gina shook her head no.
“What’s not fair…what did he say…what did he promise?”
“Leave her alone…don’t….leave her alone…I…you told me…you promised…” She started to rock back and forth in the chair, once again holding herself in her arms against the cold.
“What did he do…what did he promise Mika….?”
“I want to die…he promised…I want to die…” She continued to sob and rock….her shoulders convulsed from the sobbing.
“What did he promise? What did he do, Mika?” The girl stopped rocking and screamed,
“Leave her alone….I’ll do what you want…leave her alone…..it’s my fault…I didn’t do what he wanted…..it’s my fault…I want to die….” She reached around, almost blindly until she found the bear once again and hugged it tightly, still
sobbing.
“What’s your fault…what happened?” Gina knew that the girl had done nothing wrong....would have never done anything ‘wrong,’ but she was made to feel guilty…like she said, ‘it was her fault.”
“He promised…if I…sucked him…if I made him…….it’s my fault….I want to die.” The girl started once again to rock back and forth, talking to the teddy bear….
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” She kept repeating, over and over while sobbing and rocking. It seemed like it had been going on forever, even from Gina’s perspective, but only minutes had passed.
“Who are you talking to…Mika…who are you sorry for?” She stopped rocking and her face, still red from crying, twisted into a mask of horror as she snapped,
“Lena….he….I did what he wanted and….he still hurt her….he promised…I should have….it’s my fault…it’s my fault…he hurt her…I should have saved her…” The girl suddenly stopped, almost as if she had been slapped in the face. She stared vacantly as a look of surprised comprehension crossed her face. She frowned and her lip quivered slightly as she said,
“I…I couldn’t….Oh God…his fault…his fault…”
The girl broke down and fell against the back of the chair, sobbing almost uncontrollably and incoherent. After a few moments her sobbing subsided enough for Gina to get her attention.
“Mika? Mika? Can you hear me?” Gina said firmly but softly. The girl didn’t speak but her head came forward slightly.
“Mika…I want you to think of that safe place you talked about…remember?” The girl started to rock back and forth again, but slower and with less intensity.
“Mika…think about the place….where are you now, Mika?” The girl’s expression softened and she leaned back once again, but this time relaxed.
“Where are you now, Mika?” Gina said again softly. The girl’s face brightened slightly and she said softly,
“With Victor…”
“Okay…you’re with your brother Victor…how do you feel, Mika? What color do you see?” The girl’s face brightened even more,
“Green…”
“Okay…and do you smell anything?” Gina said, repeating almost word for word what she had used to bring the girl out.
“Grass…we’re in the park.”
“Okay…Mika…how do you feel?”
“I…I’m safe…..relaxed,” the words sounded odd after the exchange of the past forty minutes, but Gina expected that, of course.
“Alright, Mika…I want you to open your eyes when you’re ready…when you feel you’re ready, okay?”
She said nothing for a moment and then opened her eyes and looked at Gina.
“We’re going to take just a little longer, Mika…okay?”
A nod followed by a quiet yes.
“We talked last time…he promised to leave Lena alone. But he didn’t.” The tears began to flow once again, but with understanding.
“Could you have done anything?” Gina said softly.
“I should have… I could have…”
“What could you have done? How old were you?” The girl looked away and the reality of the past, as horrible as it was, softened just a bit as a look of understanding crossed her face.
“I…I was eight….” She was still crying, and her tone was almost apologetic, as if it was her fault that she was so small and so young.
“Can an eight year old stop a grown man?” Gina nearly insisted; it had been so hard to get to this point, and she didn’t want Mika slipping back into misplaced guilt.
“N…no…” She whispered; again, almost apologetic, as if the offense were her fault instead of the monster who molested her and her sister.
“Are you guilty?” Mika still felt pulled in the wrong direction, but the work she and Gina did over the past year had helped her gain the inner strength she had lost so many years ago.
“N..NO! I’m not…” Her shoulders started to shake, but no convulsively as before, but in a soft laughter brought about by relief and peace.
“I’m not…” She began to cry once again, but this time the tears were healing instead of condemning. The hand reached out once again, this time with a look that sought permission.
“It’s okay, now, Marta…” Gina said and nodded as Marta leaned closer and squeezed her hands. Mika looked up, and smiled weakly.
“I’m so proud of you,” Marta said softly.
“Remember what Lena wrote? ...She would have been proud of you, too, honey.” Marta said, her own tears matching Mika’s.
“This is a good day,” Mika said with a sniffle as she recalled where the tissues were and wiped her nose.
“You did a lot of work today, Mika…yes…it’s a good day.”
“Oh…yeah….but it’s even better….”
“Today’s my birthday…twenty-five.” Mika Alexis, nee’ Michael Alexander… She smiled at her partner Marta and back at Gina.
“Happy birthday, Mika…” Gina said with a relieved sigh.
“Happy birthday.”
Author's note: This episode parallels a similar therapy session which took place between me and my therapist recently. The imagery techniques are real; the scenario is mostly autobiographical; the characters are fictitious. Thanks for reading, Andrea
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Bonnie's Wish
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The Steen Home...Ardmore, Pennsylvania...
“Mom?” Bobby walked over to the window seat in the living room and sat down. Allie was sitting there, staring out the window at the snow falling heavily, almost like a blanket of white down. It was peaceful. As he sat down next to her she reached over her shoulder and he grabbed her hand.
“Hi…” She sighed.
“It….”
“No, honey, it didn’t work…” She gasped before turning around, her face red from crying.
“What do we do now, Mom.” The boy shrugged his shoulders, fighting back his own tears. Someone had to be brave for the moment; his mother’s courage had nearly reached an end, and his sister was almost too tired to go on.
“We pray.” She choked back a sob and continued. “And we get ready.”
The next week...
“There’s a lady at the door, Mom.” Bobby yelled to the kitchen where Allie was preparing lunch. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and walked to the front door.
“Hi…” The woman offered her hand, saying, “You may remember me, but don’t worry if you don’t”
“Oh, gosh….Dana…..Dana Mendellsohn….you arranged the donor drive…of course I remember.” Allie shook her hand before pulling her into an awkward hug.
“I can’t begin to thank you….it meant so much to Bonnie…” Allie turned sideways slightly and looked down the hallway.
“She’s up…” Allie shrugged; her expression was almost apologetic. “Your timing is excellent. She’s….”
“Listen, Mrs. Steen, you don’t have to explain. My daughter goes to school with your oldest. I am so sorry.” Dana wanted to know…who wouldn’t, as morbid as that might seem…how long Bonnie ‘had.’ But she left the question unasked.
“We…Gina Kelly and Maeve Stuart and me….we got together with some folks, and we have something for you…I hope you don’t mind.” She reached into her purse and withdrew two envelopes.
“It’s not much, but we hope it will help your girl…” Dana blinked back some tears as her face grew warm. “I just hope….”
“No…” Allie put her hand on Dana’s arm, her face awash with tears as she spoke haltingly…’
“There’s….there’s still some time.” The word ‘some’ shouted like a cruel taunt even though it was barely audible.
“Here…this is for you and your family. We plan on having a fund-raiser to add to this.” Allie opened the envelope and found inside a check for three thousand dollars. Even with the excellent insurance that she and Carter had, the bills had been overwhelming. She hugged Dana and smiled.
“This…this is so kind…thank you.” Bobby stood to the side, trying in vain to hold back from crying.
“And this is for Bonnie….It’s not much…sort of like make-a-wish…I know her situation was sudden, and you haven’t even had the time…so we thought this would be a good way…” Dana’s lip quivered. She had struggled with the loss of her own mother to cancer, and had walked along side Maeve when Cal had passed last year. Allie opened the second envelope, finding another check for two thousand dollars.
“She can use it for whatever she wishes, Allie, okay?” The word ‘wish’ was so ironic, given the conversation she and Bonnie had only weeks before before…
“Why, God? Is it my fault?” The girl had wept in her mother’s arms, not even noticing her mother’s presence. Like any child…even at fourteen, the questions of life and death were so challenging.
“Honey…I don’t know…” Allie shook her head, filled with as much doubt and pain as the child in her arms.
“It’s because of this,” the girl said weakly, looking down at the soft pink nightie she wore. She frowned and began to cry softly.
“I’m sorry…I’ll…” She went to pull off the gown, nearly tearing at it.”
“Oh, God, honey…no…you’re…please, Bonnie, no…” Allie wept, rocking the girl back and forth gently as she whispered in daughter’s ear.
“You’re a treasure to God, honey…you aren’t bad…this isn’t wrong. You’re a beautiful child in his eyes.”
“Then why, mom? Why…I don’t want to die…I wish I wasn’t going to die.”
“I don’t know why, honey. But you’re my beautiful girl….my beautiful girl.” Allie said softly before the two fell together and wept.
Weeks later...
“Mom…” The girl looked up weakly as her mother held the bowl of soup in hopes that she had regained her appetite.
“Yes, Honey.”
“There’s no more time.”
“Don’t say that, Bonnie…please…” Allie said, trying to convince both of them that her daughter was wrong.
“You have to make a wish…” Allie nearly cringed at the word, remembering the conversation that they had. She made a wish; a wish that wouldn’t come true…at least the way she understood. Bonnie smiled weakly and spoke.
“If it’s my money to wish with?” She said haltingly between gasps. “I know what to wish for..I know what to spend it on.” She reached up and pulled her mother close and whispered in her ear, laughing softly. Allie’s eyes widened as she listened to her daughter’s plan.
“Are you sure?”
“He told me, Mom…yes.” Allie looked over at the open door, as if she could see down the hallway. She looked back at Bonnie and put her hand to her mouth and began to cry. The girl’s hand touched her arm, gaining her attention.
“What, honey?” Allie choked back a sob.
“Roberta is a nice name, don’t you think?” Bonnie put her head in her mother’s lap and looked up, but her gaze was not at the ceiling but beyond.
Bonnie Steen died that afternoon. The funeral was attended by several local celebrities including two Philadelphia Flyers and the second-string quarterback from the Eagles. Nearly everyone from Ardmore stood in the falling snow as the girl was laid to rest. Sitting in front of the grave were Allie and her husband Carter, their older daughter Heidi and the newest member of the family, Roberta Steen.
The plaque that would eventually cover the ground was propped against a chair next to the grave. It read,
Bonnie Ingrid Steen, 1998 — 2013,
Before I shaped you in the womb,
I knew all about you.
Before you saw the light of day,
I had holy plans for you…
Jeremiah 1:5
“She knew where she was going…
And she knew who she was…”
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Paul's (and Lina's) Wish
The Finale
“I just love you, is all!” I wish this moment would last forever...
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The Belladonna home...Atlanta, Georgia...
The two lay in bed; exhausted and invigorated at the same time. The window was open and the night air seemed to wrap them in a nice warmth. The blond; Paulette…kissed the brunette; Lina.
“Why do you love me?” A reasonable question, considering that at one time Paulette was Paul; Lina’s brother’s best friend. She had always felt odd around Paul, as if something was ‘up,’ like her grandmother used to say.
“I don’t know.” Lina told the truth; there wasn’t anything specific she could identify about her love for her new bride. Just a feeling of overwhelming attraction; perhaps she’d discover the reasons, but really, it was because in getting to know the boy her brother loved like family, she found that Paul was one of the nicest people she had ever known. She had regretted almost immediately her attraction to him. She recalled the day of discovery….
Sometime ago...
“Is Tad at home, Lina? I’ve got something I need to tell him.” The expression on Paul’s face was almost sad, even though there seemed to be little urgency in his voice.
“Oh, sorry, Paul…he’s at work until midnight. Do you want me to give him a message, or maybe you could leave him a note?” Lina asked, and a look of disappointment crossed the young man’ face.
He almost looks…no…that’s just silly,” she thought to herself, but she found herself staring. She had never really noticed before; not so much not notice but see him in the wrong light. She had always felt he was soft…just a weak boy; maybe a bit nerdy or geeky, but that wasn’t it. Tad was a computer geek, and there were few guys she knew who looked as attractive as her brother; not that it interested her.
“I guess just tell him I stopped by.” Again, an odd look of disappointment crossed his face, like he needed badly to talk to Tad…to someone…anyone. Lina stepped back and opened the screen door further.
“Hey…come on in and have some tea with me, okay?” Innocuous enough, but the boy nodded almost eagerly despite the sad look on his face and stepped inside.
“Okay, besides not liking yerba mate, what’s going on?” Lina set the cup of black tea in front of Paul and sat down with her own tea, a wry smile on her face.
“Oh…it’s nothing.” Paul said in a near whisper. She had never seen such a disconnect between tone and expression before, almost like they were playing “Opposites;’ a game she and Tad would play as children where you had to guess the opposite mood by looking at the facial expression. It came in handy later on when they both decided to major in psychology in college. But at that moment?
“Okay…I’ll guess….you say it’s nothing, but there are tears in your eyes, so it’s sadness.” Paul shook his head and said, ‘no.’
“Okay…not as emphatic, so I’m getting warmer…I’ve got it…you’ve got a secret, and you need to tell someone.” It was almost uncanny, since at that point it was a real shot in the dark. But it hit home as the young man put his head down on the kitchen table and began to weep. Paul would say later it was the welcome in her eyes that drew him out…that gave him both permission and the ability to open up to her; nearly a stranger even though they had ‘known’ each other for several years.
“Oh…gosh…I’m good,” she said with a laugh, which evoked even more sobbing.
“Oh…Paul…I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to be glib…. I…” She put her hand on his arm and he pulled it back, but her hand held tight and brushed against his cheek. She knew better than to say, ‘don’t cry,’ and just put her head down on her arm on the table and tried to make eye contact; another skill she would find handy later in life a therapist.
“Paul…please,” she said softly, “What’s troubling you?” Not ‘what’s wrong,’ which would have made it all about a thing, but ‘what’s troubling you,’ which made it all about some hurt or disappointment or lack he felt.
“I have to tell Tad…” His tone said ‘secret’ as she had expected, and the accompanying tear and convulsive shake of his shoulders indicated guilt. Again, she didn’t focus on ‘wrong.’
“Is it something you’re afraid to tell him? Something that you are worried will disappoint him?” She emphasized his ‘worry,’ so it became about his perception rather than the guilt he might be feeling.
“He…he’s my best friend, Lina…” Paul gasped.
“He’s afraid Tad won’t want to be friends with him,” she thought. She knew her brother; nothing could be further from the truth, but Paul didn’t know that.
“Oh, Paul…I’m so sorry…you seem so scared…is there anything I can do?” She was almost positive, but it went beyond that; she felt drawn to Paul at that moment, as if she was the only one who could help. It was the same feeling when she started becoming interested in helping people; a sense of compassion and love that would ultimately bring her to make counseling her life’s work. But at that moment, there was only one human being she felt called to help; an odd way for love to begin, but it was a beginning none the less.
“You…you have to promise you won’t tell anyone.” The look on her face, coupled with the flare of her nostrils, the redness in her face, and the sudden welling of tears in her eyes broke the young man’s heart and defenses and he nodded before speaking…..crying actually.
“I’ve ….I’m not….” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pill carrier.
“What are those helping you with,” she asked softly, her hand still tucked under his chin; he had rested his head on her hand on his arm once again. Not, “what do you take those for,” or “why are you on medication,” which would have been an indictment instead of an invitation. The questions and the heart behind them were always and would always be tender and warm.
“I…so it doesn’t go any further.” “It,” he said with a shudder, almost like it was a monster or a disease that plagued him. She looked at the pills and nodded, as if she already understood. She didn’t know what they were, but she had an idea and took another guess; a disaster if she had been wrong, but again she had some innate sense. It was almost as if his heart had been communicating with hers all along.
“Some are stopping development…and some are promoting….this?” She grabbed his hand and began rubbing it softly, using her fingers to touch his in a near caress.
“They’re soft…very pretty, Paul…and pretty is a good thing, I expect. Please tell me I didn’t hurt your feelings just now.” Paul began to sob and Lina pulled away slightly until he reached out and grabbed her hand and squeezed, pulling her closer once again while saying with a halt,
“No…you didn’t…how did you know?” His voice changed in an instant, as if the voice she had been hearing all along for the past few years had been the pretend and this was the real.
“I don’t really know why, but I just did.” A boldness that she had not anticipated came over here; almost as if the two of them were in some sort of accelerated ‘life’ program. She smiled even as she blinked back the tears she had been fighting since they first began talking; saying with a surprising calm.
“All I know I that I want to help…If I may. May I…Paul?” He nodded and smiled while lifting his head. Once again a boldness overtook her, but she was joined in the new adventure as he leaned closer, almost asking without words. She stood up and leaned close to him, cupping his face with her hands; kissing him gently on the lips.
“May I? Paulette?”
A nod followed by a kiss back followed by talks and hugs and kisses and a life together; perhaps fanciful and unrealistic by some standards, but wonderful none the less.
And back to the present...Drs. Lina and Paulette Belladonna continue their...consultation...
“Why do I love you? I don’t know what it is…If I did, I’d do it all the time. I just do...is all!” Lina said. Paulette looked at her and smiled.
“I know…” She kissed Lina and began to sob softly, but like so many moments since that day when she and Lina began her journey, it was all good.
“I wish this moment would last forever.” She said and kissed Lina who kissed back tenderly and passionately.
As far as I know, that moment is still going on.
Mi Morena
Words and music and
performance by
Martin Page
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uhYASdXrsMs
Comments
If Wishes Were...the Anthology
Thank you for posting them together.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
Mika made me cry - for once; and...
......Paul and Lina made me jump for joy! I found the first very disturbing and, if this is an autobio theme, I give you my deepest sympathy.... Paul and Lina on the other hand, if autobio too, made me jealous as sin!! xx