A Transgender Anthology based on
The Beatles' Abbey Road Album
Part Six: Sleep, Pretty Darling, Do Not Cry...
Once there was a way,
To get back homeward.
Previously...the Cardone home, 1999
“Mom, I have something I have to tell you.”
The boy sat on the couch, his hands folded in front of him. Better not to shock her, he wore some torn jeans and an oversized black tee. His hair was cut to just above his collar, but erratically and dyed black and magenta. The eyeliner was applied frugally, and was streaked only a little under his lower eyelashes. But somehow his mother barely noticed.
“Sure, Joey…just give me about an hour. I’ve got to run out for a bit, but we can talk when I get back.”
Joey watched as his mother ran quickly out of the house. A moment later he was in the kitchen, reaching under the sink to push the cleaner caddy aside to grab a bottle of Smirnoffs. He stood up and walked down the hallway toward his room, but his uncle stepped out of the bathroom and stood in his path.
“I’ve got some weed we can have to go with that,” he said, pointing to the bottle in Joey’s hand. Joey teetered down the hallway, his balance impeded by the bourbon he had drunk earlier that morning. His uncle put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Your hair looks nice; I like the colors…makes you look…pretty.” Joey went to pull away, but his uncle grabbed his other shoulder and pushed him along down the hallway and into his room and shut the door.
Ashland Ohio, 2002
“Delia, can I see you in my office?” Marie’s tone seemed a bit abrupt, but Delia thought it might be the pressure of wrapping up the monthly figures. She walked slowly to Marie’s office; her gait was almost toddering as she steadied herself with her hand against the wall.
“Step inside and close the door, please.” The tone was pleasant enough, but Marie’s expression gave Delia pause to wonder what was wrong. Marie spoke softly at first, but firmly.
“I’ve been getting some complaints, Delia.” She had heard that a few years before. Delia felt she was ready for anything, but Marie’s next words ended that idea.
“We go back ten…no, eleven years, Delia, so what I have to say is very very hard, but I wouldn’t be doing my job and I certainly wouldn’t be your friend unless I did something.” Delia went to speak and Marie held up her hand, quieting her.
“NO…let me finish. I’m not about to drag everyone in here and do an intervention; I won’t embarrass you like that. But you need to get help.” Delia looked at Marie; to say that she was puzzled would be an understatement.
“Marie? What are you talking about? I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist for over a year.”
“Yes, but are you telling him everything? Do you have any accountability? I don’t see a significant change in behavior since our last talk. You have a problem and it’s spilling onto your job. I’m sorry that it’s come to this, but I can’t have you coming to work this way…don’t tell me you’re sober. It takes one to know one, Delia, and I know you’re still drinking. Please understand that I have to do what’s best for the company first, but this is in your best interests as well.”
“You’re firing me?” Delia went to stand up but lost her balance and fell back into the chair. Marie looked at her shook her head, more for the moment, but also to answer Delia’s question.
“No…I talked it over with Jeff and Nancy, and they agree with me about you getting some help. You’ll be on a paid leave….medical….and we’ve looked into some treatment facilities. Your choice. You can contact them, or we’ll contact them. Either way, you’re suspended until further notice, subject to completion of the program. I know this might not fly with some people, but we’re willing to take the risk. Either you accept the offer and get help, or you’ll be terminated with two month’s severance. We have to have you here and sober, Delia, and it’s not working. Your choice…by the end of the day."
The Watershed Outpatient Clinic, Akron, Ohio, five months later...
“Do you have time to talk?” The woman seemed more subdued than usual, her head bowed almost in resignation. Chelsea leaned closer while the rest of the group headed toward the kitchen for coffee.
“Sure, Delia. We can catch up.”
“I want to…” She put her hand to her face as tears spilled off her chin.
“What we talked about? Making restitution… Your son?”
“I…I’m so ashamed. He wouldn’t have been hurt if I had been a better mother.”
“That may be true, but what can we do now?” Chelsea looked toward the door as if an answer would walk through.
“I…I can try to make it up to him.” Delia didn’t sound convincing; not because of any denial on her part. She just felt that no matter what she did, nothing would make up for the neglect of her only child.
“There’s one thing you can do, Delia. You mentioned it yesterday.” Chelsea half-smiled. It was hard enough for Delia to accept her responsibility for neglecting her son, but she did. It would be even harder to reach out to her child, knowing what changes she’d learned about Joey.
“What if he…what if…” She gasped.
“I know it’s hard, but you want to reach out to Joey, it’s something you have to face.” Chelsea shrugged her shoulders slightly and half-smiled.
“He’s my boy. Damn it, he’s my boy.”
“That’s not you talking…not after all this time, Delia.” The words might have been harsh coming from anyone else, but from Chelsea they were welcoming and freeing.
“I…it’s so hard to see him as a girl, you know,” Delia wiped tears from her face with her sleeve and held her hands out wide, almost pleading for another reality.
“But she came to visit you at first. Who did you see then?” Chelsea made point to say ‘who’ rather than ‘what.’
“Joey…who else would I see?”
“Same child? Same mother, right?” Delia nodded and wiped her face again.
“Yes?” She answered with hesitation, but her eyes began to widen.
“Same neglect? Same abused child, right?” Harsh words, but necessary for Delia to face the truth.
“I know…you don’t have to remind me. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t hate myself for what happened to her.” The words were no sooner out of her mouth when she realized what she had said.
“And that’s another thing, right? What happened to her? Was it an event? Did it just ‘take place?”
“Okay…my brother abused her.” That word ‘her’ again flowed freely and she continued.
“What did she say the last time you talked?”
“She…she forgave…me. She forgave me, Chelsea. Why would she do that?”
“Why do you think?”
“Because….” It was as if something had broken inside of Delia and she put her hand to her face as she realized the truth of what she would say next.
“Because she loves me?!” Almost a statement, the key to Delia’s recovery came not from what she could accomplish to prove she was trustworthy; that would come in time as she rebuilt relationships, and not just with Joey. And it would not come from atoning for her sins; some might say they would be taken care of by a higher power. Delia’s recovery came from knowing that in spite of all she had done and all she had failed to do for Joey, she was still forgiven. Chelsea’s nod sealed the deal, and Delia began to sob.
“Because she loves you.”
The Cardone home, soon thereafter...
Marie Boudreau walked with Delia up the walk to the front door.
“I’m very proud of you, Delia. You did great, and you know we’re all behind you at the office.
“One day at a time, Marie.” I talk to my sponsor and I go to as many meetings as I can. And once a week with the evening outpatient group as well.” Delia breathed a sigh of relief.
“Let me know if you need a ride to the meeting tomorrow, okay?” She hugged her best friend and walked back to her car; waving before she drove off. Delia smiled and went to open the door and found it ajar. She walked inside.
“Joey? Honey…are you home?” She walked down the hall and noticed the hall light on even though it was just after eleven in the morning.
"Joey...what are you doing home, honey...you're supposed to be at Kate's!"
Joey’s bedroom door was wide open, and Delia walked in. She saw Joey lying face up on the bed. She made no sound.
“Oh dear god, please!” She ran to the bed and breathed a sigh of anxious relief as she saw Joey’s chest raise and lower slowly, accompanied by a moan.
She sang a wordless song that seemed to bless the girl as she slept; not so much sleeping as languishing in a stupor from little food and way too much Jim Beam.
“I’m so sorry, but it’s going to be okay.” The woman knelt down and leaned against the bed, almost prayerful, but with a fear she didn’t wish the girl to know. She looked up and mouthed the words again, this time in silence,
“I’m sorry.”
Joey blinked and turned to the side, facing her mother. Delia touched the girl’s cheek with her hand and spoke softly.
“I’m so sorry, honey." Delia bowed her head and began singing a song from her own past, kissing the girl on the cheek and anointing her with her tears.
"Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry...and...I will sing a lullaby"
“Mom? Mommy? The girl turned away and covered her eyes with her arm and began to sob. Her body heaved with convulsions and coughing. Delia leaned closer and placed her head on the girl’s chest and cried along with her daughter.
“I promise you….it will be okay…” She said between sobs. The girl lowered her arm and placed it over Delia’s back, embracing her.
“Mommy…..Mommy….” The girl repeated over and over.
St. Matthew's Episcopal Church, Ashland, Ohio...several months later...
The small crowd of people made their way to the chairs. A tall, very slender middle-aged man stood and walked to the front.
“Hi…I’m Marty, and I’m an alcoholic.” A few quiet claps were followed by the group responding,
“Hi, Marty.” He smiled and spoke for a few moments before inviting anyone to speak. A woman stood and looked around and shook only slightly, gaining a newfound confidence before speaking.
“Hi…I’m Delia, and I’m an alcoholic.” She smiled at the group response before she felt her left hand being squeezed slightly as the girl next to her stood.
“He…hello….my…my name is Joey….” She felt her mother squeeze back and she finished.
“I’m…I’m an alcoholic.”
Golden slumbers,
Fill your eyes
Smiles await you when you rise
Sleep pretty darling
Do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby.
Once there was a way
To get back homeward
Once there was a way
To get back home
Sleep, pretty darling
Do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby.
Next: Because...
Golden Slumbers
Words and Music by
John Lennon and
Paul McCartney
as performed by
Nungan
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9ljjPa9w_U
Comments
Sigh
No matter how many step over, or look away or hurry past or simply ignore. There's always someone sometime that has to carry the Weight. Age is no barrier. You're a nicer more forgiving person than I am Drea. Then, some semblance of a happy ending beats the alternative... even if we aint there yet. Is self centred indifference absolved by an act of loving generosity? I dunno, it's not simple, that I do know.
Kris
As someone who's been in recovery...
for a variety of issues, I can say that no amount of forgiveness on Joey's part absolves Delia of her years of indifference; her lack of responsibility will be played out in the still-fractured relationship with her daughter. Joey, even in the midst of her own dysfunction, still wants the mother she never had, and that alone would be enough, but it's actually for her own sake that she's come to forgive her mom. There's always work to be done in any relationship, but this one is going to take a lot of work, with a lot of help from resources and friends like Marie. It's more like a 'getting to be a happy' ending, I suppose. You're quite right; it's not simple at all. Thanks
Love, Andrea Lena
“Because she loves you.â€
Wow.
I'm ... at a loss for words here.
Just ....
Wow
Not Easy
Not easy to forgive years of neglect and indifference. Not easy to overcome years of neglect and indifference. Just going to AA meetings together doesn't necessarily form a bond between a mother and a daughter that is in dire need of repair.
It is going to need lots of hard work on the mother's part to build some trust with her daughter,
Joanne