"They say not to look back, but if you're not sure what lies ahead, what else is there but looking back?"
-Laurell K. Hamilton
It's 2AM December 14th, and I'm lying awake because my mind wont shut off. Where is my dad? Something has to be wrong...right? Something is off, really off. I just have a feeling. The has to be an answer, there has to be a clue. So what do I do at 2AM in the morning? I begin exploring all the memories of my dad that pop into my head.
CUE FLASHBACK:
I'm 8 months pregnant and really really uncomfortable. For some reason my dad and I are sitting at the kitchen table talking about childhood. Its the middle of the day and Mom and the kids are at school and work.
"Do you remember your childhood or did you block most of it out?" I ask my father.
"There are definitely holes, but I remember a lot. It's hard to forget," he replies.
"How much did your dad drink?"
"A lot baby. He would go after work and get a 1/4th of whiskey. He'd drink it until he passed out or finished it," he replies looking off into the distance as if something is there.
"Was he always drunk or was it just after work?" I question.
"That's the thing baby, he was such an amazing person when he was sober. He was so loving and funny. We had the best times when he was sober and had been through rehab."
"So he tried to get sober?"
"Oh many many times, but it wasn't like the rehabs today. It was more like a detox back then. They kept him for a week at a time and then he came back. I can't even remember the amount times he went. He tried to get sober a lot but he just couldn't stop," he tells me.
"And nobody ever called the cops on him after the beatings?" I question.
"The cops came a couple times, but it wasn't the same back then as it is now baby. My dad was really charming ya know. All he had to do was tell the cops that his wife was being out of line and he was correcting her, and they just left. They let the man of the house take care of his business. It was a man's world then. There weren't programs and protocols like there are now," he explains.
"What about your teachers? Didn't they say anything?"
"No. We always came up with excuses. I punched my brother Bill and he punched me or I fell down the stairs. The usual. Nobody questioned anything," he tells me.
"So what justified a beating?" I question...because I'm that nosey.
"There was never a rhyme or a reason. It could be anything. I remember one time my dad walked into the room and yelled for me. I walked into the room and he took me by the shirt and threw me across the room. I mean he picked me up and threw me across the entire room. I remember hitting the wall and then waking up later in a different place."
"How could a father possibly do that to his son?" I question in disbelief.
" I don't know baby. You just never could tell. This one time we were at a bar and this guy walked by and knocked Mom's purse off the table. Dad told him to pick it up and apologize. The man said no. Dad got in his face and demanded that he apologize and pick it up, but the man refused. You know what he did? He picked him up by the neck and threw him through the window. He had incredible strength. I mean he was an iron worker, so he had brute honest strength and when he was drinking, he was unstoppable."
"Oh my God. How old were you?"
"About 8. We went to the bar with my dad all the time after school. He would go play cards with his buddies and me and Uncle Bill would just wait. We never knew if he would walk out of there the angry drunk or just plain old Dad. Its probably a good thing he died when he did. When he died, Uncle Bill was getting big- he was 14- and he probably would have killed him one day. There's only so much a kid can take."
" I can't believe you are so normal Dad. Having gone through what you did, I just can't believe you aren't totally screwed up."
"Well, Uncle Bill took a lot more of the beatings than I did. He was only a year older than me, but he protected me," he says.
"I wish Uncle Bill was still here. I still can't believe he's gone."
"I wish he was too baby. I wish he was too," my father replies as tears well in his eyes.
"And nobody ever stood up for you and Uncle Bill?" I question.
"My dad wasn't afraid of nobody baby. Well, I take that back. The only person that could put him in his place and he wouldn't touch was your Great Aunt Opal. She was the only one that was able to rip him up one side and down the other."
"She's a feisty one huh?" I reply.
"Yeah, I always loved spending my summers with Aunt Opal and Uncle John. They were good to me."
"You know Noah's middle name is going to be William right?"
"Yeah baby. I'm so glad you are honoring my brother that way. He was everything to me. Some days I don't know how to live without him. Some days it's more than I can't take."
"I know Pop. I know."
END OF FLASHBACK...
Is it possible? Is it possible that my dad was done? Done with life? Done with loss? Done with pain? Just done? Is it possible that he decided to go with Uncle Bill? God I hope not. I want my Daddy. I need my Poppa Bear.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Chapter 6: The Hospital Calls
If you are just joining this blog, you might want to start at the preface and work your way up or you'll be missing major details :-)
So folks, you really ready for the rest of this story? This is where things get complicated and awful. Oh...you thought it was bad enough already?? I wish. We have only hit the tip of the iceberg, and the boat will sink slowly into the icy cold waters of this drama. So, if you have been living in a nice cozy bubble and your life is pretty, comfortable, and smells of vanilla year-round, now is the time to stop reading. Your life will remain untouched by this madness. The rest of the story is for those of us that have seen darkness in people and know the true meaning of "silver lining"- those of us that are not afraid to swim in the deep end.
But before I continue the story, I'll give you some cliff's notes since so much has happened already:
-Dad was put in jail. We found out it was for not paying the courts on a judgment against him for scamming a contracting job
-Crack whore calls mom when Dad is in jail, who is in a hotel nearby waiting for my dearest Daddy.
-Dad's friend Julian bails him out of jail. Who the hell knows why.
-Dad stocks the pantry with Y2K food and leaves with the crack whore and $3 in the bank for my mom.
I haven't spoken to Mom for more than a few seconds since I've been slammed pulling 20 hour days rushing to get all my holiday merchandise to my clients, oh and being a mom too. But Mom has been texting me updates while I fail to help her wade through this mounting family drama:
November 26th
Your dad didn't show for Thanksgiving. Kids have been quiet and teary eyed all day
December 5th
Your dad is still working in Chicago. Its been 2 weeks since he left
December 7th
Dad is coming home Wed
December 8th
Dad says he's too sick to fly. Coming home Thurs
December 9th
Dad says he's sick again coming home Friday
December 10th (late at night)
Dad didn't call till late. Says he's been throwing up all day. Not coming home today. He didn't give me money before he left
December 11th
No call yet. Not answering.
December 13th
"Hi Mom. Has he called yet?"
"No. Not yet. He's not answering his phone either," Mom tells me.
"Yeah I know. I've been trying to call him all day."
"You know he has done this before but its usually over a three day weekend that we loose track of him. He said he was so sick though I just hope nothing happened. I'm starting to get a little worried. Its really cold there right now," Mom tells me.
"You said he's in Chicago?"
"Yeah. Why?"
" I think its time to start calling hospitals. Remember a few months ago when he didn't call forever and then he ended up being in the hospital?" I remind my mom.
"Yeah, that was weird," she replies.
"Okay Mom I'm gonna make calls."
This is the part where if you were watching a movie you'd see a montage of me with an open phone book busily dialing and scribbling on a yellow notebook...but then the screen would get all foggy and dark because I'm about to experience a memory and you are along for the ride...cue FLASHBACK...
My phone rings.
"Hi Dad. Where are you? We've been trying to get a hold of you for like 2 days," I blurt out.
"I'm in the hospital baby," he replies calmly.
"WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED!" I exclaim.
"I don't know. I was driving the car and all of a sudden my heart felt like it was going to explode. I couldn't talk or breathe. I thought I was having a heart attack. Dennis rushed me to the hospital and they have been doing all kinds of test on me."
"So was it a heart attack?" I ask.
"They don't know. The doctors think it was because I drank a soda and two of those energy drinks and my heart just couldn't take it and spasmed out."
"Oh my God Dad. Why did you drink those things? And you know how I feel about soda. I thought you stopped drinking soda?" I question like a scowling school teacher.
"Baby I was just trying to get this job done and I'm exhausted. I need to get it done so I can get home. But baby it looks like I"m going to be released later tonight."
"Wait. When did this happen?" I ask.
"Yesterday morning," he responds. Yesterday morning was like 30 hours before this stupid phone call.
"What?! Why didn't you call us Dad?!" I reply with an edge of anger.
"They've been doing tests since I got here baby, and when I first got here they gave me a shot that knocked me out for a while. And to be honest, I've had to wait until the nurses left because I'm saying I'm someone else," he tells me nonchalantly.
"What? Someone else? WHAT?" I ask as my train of thought is completely thrown with that little tid bit of information.
"Well, yeah. It was going to put us in the poor house, so Dennis said I could use his insurance and pretend that I was him so they bill the insurance and not me. I've been forgetting all day and when the nurses come in they've been calling me Dennis and I've had to get used to his name."
"OH-MY-GOD. Dad that's totally illegal. And who is this Dennis guy? Why would he let you use his insurance? Isnt' that like insurance fraud or something?!"
"Not if you get caught its not. But the good thing is that with all the tests they found growth on my thyroid."
The thing is, my dad is a really good verbal magician. I didn't realize until recently that he's super good at misdirection. Of course I would forget about the crazy insurance fraud, or the unlikely story that Red Bull gave him a heart attack, or who this Dennis guy is that is crazy enough to let someone use his name for expensive hospital tests. Forget all that shit. What is this growth?! For the love of God, could my dad be sick? Like cancer sick?
"What does that mean Dad? Is it a tumor?" I question with waves of concern flanking my deductive reasoning skills leaving the logical portion of my brain crippled.
"They don't know. They're doing some more test on it. They're sending a biopsy out and I'll have the results in a week or so," he tells me.
"So it could be cancer?"
"Well, yeah but don't go there yet. Lets just wait to see what the test results say. Okay baby I have to go so I can call your mom now. I love you baby doll." (Anyone wonder why he didn't call my Mom first? hmm.)
"Love you to Pop. Call me later okay?"
"Alright. Bye."
Now imagine the screen going black again as we slowly fade into real time. There I am sitting in front of my phone book with a full page of scribbles on my yellow pad of paper. Okay lets be honest, I don't own a phonebook and I don't know where paper is in my house let alone a pen. I only use crayons for writing purposes... I totally used google and my iPhone to call the hospitals...but I digress. Here's what I discover while you were enjoying my fancy flashback. There is not a single human being matching my Dad's physical description or name in any hospital in Illinois.
Now I'm really starting to worry too. What if something horrible happened? Could I live without my Dad? What would I do if he died? Okay maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. He's only been unreachable for 3 days. We will find him. Right?
Oh by the way... we never heard about the results of the growth. Never found out who this Dennis dude is and why he would let my dad use his insurance. And come to think of it, if one gets a biopsy on any internal part, doesn't it leave a mark? A scar? A cut? We didn't see any of those either. And anytime we asked about the hospital visit or the tests, it was another wave of the verbal magical wand to distract us. What is my dad up to?
So folks, you really ready for the rest of this story? This is where things get complicated and awful. Oh...you thought it was bad enough already?? I wish. We have only hit the tip of the iceberg, and the boat will sink slowly into the icy cold waters of this drama. So, if you have been living in a nice cozy bubble and your life is pretty, comfortable, and smells of vanilla year-round, now is the time to stop reading. Your life will remain untouched by this madness. The rest of the story is for those of us that have seen darkness in people and know the true meaning of "silver lining"- those of us that are not afraid to swim in the deep end.
But before I continue the story, I'll give you some cliff's notes since so much has happened already:
-Dad was put in jail. We found out it was for not paying the courts on a judgment against him for scamming a contracting job
-Crack whore calls mom when Dad is in jail, who is in a hotel nearby waiting for my dearest Daddy.
-Dad's friend Julian bails him out of jail. Who the hell knows why.
-Dad stocks the pantry with Y2K food and leaves with the crack whore and $3 in the bank for my mom.
I haven't spoken to Mom for more than a few seconds since I've been slammed pulling 20 hour days rushing to get all my holiday merchandise to my clients, oh and being a mom too. But Mom has been texting me updates while I fail to help her wade through this mounting family drama:
November 26th
Your dad didn't show for Thanksgiving. Kids have been quiet and teary eyed all day
December 5th
Your dad is still working in Chicago. Its been 2 weeks since he left
December 7th
Dad is coming home Wed
December 8th
Dad says he's too sick to fly. Coming home Thurs
December 9th
Dad says he's sick again coming home Friday
December 10th (late at night)
Dad didn't call till late. Says he's been throwing up all day. Not coming home today. He didn't give me money before he left
December 11th
No call yet. Not answering.
December 13th
"Hi Mom. Has he called yet?"
"No. Not yet. He's not answering his phone either," Mom tells me.
"Yeah I know. I've been trying to call him all day."
"You know he has done this before but its usually over a three day weekend that we loose track of him. He said he was so sick though I just hope nothing happened. I'm starting to get a little worried. Its really cold there right now," Mom tells me.
"You said he's in Chicago?"
"Yeah. Why?"
" I think its time to start calling hospitals. Remember a few months ago when he didn't call forever and then he ended up being in the hospital?" I remind my mom.
"Yeah, that was weird," she replies.
"Okay Mom I'm gonna make calls."
This is the part where if you were watching a movie you'd see a montage of me with an open phone book busily dialing and scribbling on a yellow notebook...but then the screen would get all foggy and dark because I'm about to experience a memory and you are along for the ride...cue FLASHBACK...
My phone rings.
"Hi Dad. Where are you? We've been trying to get a hold of you for like 2 days," I blurt out.
"I'm in the hospital baby," he replies calmly.
"WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED!" I exclaim.
"I don't know. I was driving the car and all of a sudden my heart felt like it was going to explode. I couldn't talk or breathe. I thought I was having a heart attack. Dennis rushed me to the hospital and they have been doing all kinds of test on me."
"So was it a heart attack?" I ask.
"They don't know. The doctors think it was because I drank a soda and two of those energy drinks and my heart just couldn't take it and spasmed out."
"Oh my God Dad. Why did you drink those things? And you know how I feel about soda. I thought you stopped drinking soda?" I question like a scowling school teacher.
"Baby I was just trying to get this job done and I'm exhausted. I need to get it done so I can get home. But baby it looks like I"m going to be released later tonight."
"Wait. When did this happen?" I ask.
"Yesterday morning," he responds. Yesterday morning was like 30 hours before this stupid phone call.
"What?! Why didn't you call us Dad?!" I reply with an edge of anger.
"They've been doing tests since I got here baby, and when I first got here they gave me a shot that knocked me out for a while. And to be honest, I've had to wait until the nurses left because I'm saying I'm someone else," he tells me nonchalantly.
"What? Someone else? WHAT?" I ask as my train of thought is completely thrown with that little tid bit of information.
"Well, yeah. It was going to put us in the poor house, so Dennis said I could use his insurance and pretend that I was him so they bill the insurance and not me. I've been forgetting all day and when the nurses come in they've been calling me Dennis and I've had to get used to his name."
"OH-MY-GOD. Dad that's totally illegal. And who is this Dennis guy? Why would he let you use his insurance? Isnt' that like insurance fraud or something?!"
"Not if you get caught its not. But the good thing is that with all the tests they found growth on my thyroid."
The thing is, my dad is a really good verbal magician. I didn't realize until recently that he's super good at misdirection. Of course I would forget about the crazy insurance fraud, or the unlikely story that Red Bull gave him a heart attack, or who this Dennis guy is that is crazy enough to let someone use his name for expensive hospital tests. Forget all that shit. What is this growth?! For the love of God, could my dad be sick? Like cancer sick?
"What does that mean Dad? Is it a tumor?" I question with waves of concern flanking my deductive reasoning skills leaving the logical portion of my brain crippled.
"They don't know. They're doing some more test on it. They're sending a biopsy out and I'll have the results in a week or so," he tells me.
"So it could be cancer?"
"Well, yeah but don't go there yet. Lets just wait to see what the test results say. Okay baby I have to go so I can call your mom now. I love you baby doll." (Anyone wonder why he didn't call my Mom first? hmm.)
"Love you to Pop. Call me later okay?"
"Alright. Bye."
Now imagine the screen going black again as we slowly fade into real time. There I am sitting in front of my phone book with a full page of scribbles on my yellow pad of paper. Okay lets be honest, I don't own a phonebook and I don't know where paper is in my house let alone a pen. I only use crayons for writing purposes... I totally used google and my iPhone to call the hospitals...but I digress. Here's what I discover while you were enjoying my fancy flashback. There is not a single human being matching my Dad's physical description or name in any hospital in Illinois.
Now I'm really starting to worry too. What if something horrible happened? Could I live without my Dad? What would I do if he died? Okay maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. He's only been unreachable for 3 days. We will find him. Right?
Oh by the way... we never heard about the results of the growth. Never found out who this Dennis dude is and why he would let my dad use his insurance. And come to think of it, if one gets a biopsy on any internal part, doesn't it leave a mark? A scar? A cut? We didn't see any of those either. And anytime we asked about the hospital visit or the tests, it was another wave of the verbal magical wand to distract us. What is my dad up to?
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Chapter 5: Here Today, Gone Today.
The phone rings. Oh God. What now? Isn't that how it always starts?
"Hi Mom. What's going on?"
"Your father just left," she says coldly and without any discernible emotion.
"What? Didn't he just get out of jail? Where is he going? Did you kick him out or something?" I question.
"Yeah he just got out a few hours ago. And he said he had to go finish his job or he'd get fired. So he went and got that woman and left to Illinois or Pennsylvania. I don't remember," she replies blankly.
Wait... did she just say my dad left with that crack whore? She didn't just say that right?!?!?!
"Okay start from the beginning. What happened exactly from the moment he got home," I say.
"Okay well, I was fixing lunch for the kids and he came home. I was trying to act like everything was normal, so it wouldn't scare your brother. And your sister was acting normal too- you know her, she's just picks up on what to do. She's only 13, but she acts 32 ya know? I was making lunch and I asked your father to clean out the garage, since its a huge mess and his crap is everywhere. Then he started going into the Y2K closet and messing around..." she says.
Okay quick stop in the story for a bit of info. My dad is from the country. He owns rifles, goes deer hunting, fishing and the whole country John Wayne thing. He is also one of those survivalist guys that keeps food, water and ammo around for the apocalypse. When the whole Y2K craze hit, my dad stockpiled a ton of food- spam, dehydrated milk, beans- all that nasty stuff that people would never eat given a choice. Its now 2010, but my dad still insisted upon keeping piles and piles of this Y2K food around. I don't know maybe he was saving it for 2012.
Mom continues, "He started pulling stuff out of the Y2K closet and putting it into the pantry. I wasn't paying that much attention because I was trying to cook. He just kept messing around it the pantry and finally I asked why he wasn't cleaning the garage and why he was messing around in the pantry. Sam, he just looked at me, then he looked at the kids and kept stocking the pantry with that nasty Y2K food. I think he knew he was leaving for good."
Oh man. This isn't going to end well is it? The days of fairy tales are officially over.
"Okay then what?" I ask.
"Well, then we decided to go for a drive and talk about why he was in jail and who the women were. I just didn't want to talk in front of the kids ya know. If they want to, they hear everything. Of course whenever I ask them to clean their rooms, they seem to not hear a word," she explains.
"Okay so you went for a drive and what did he tell you?"
"We parked in the high school parking lot and talked. God Sam, here we are skimping on everything. We don't have money for anything extra. I've given up getting my hair done, and my car needs new brakes and you know what he told me? He told me that he just wanted to be someone's hero. That he wanted to be able to pull out hundred dollar bills and pay for everything like the big man on campus. Here we are saving every last dime, and he's out there across the country blowing money left and right on his "friends" as he calls them," she says.
"So what was his explanation about the women and the text messages. What did he say about that? " I question.
"Oh he says that they're just friends and that he has never touched them. There's three women that were calling. Deb was the bitchy one that wouldn't talk to me. Cheryl was the one that kept hanging up and Elizabeth is the one that Dad left with. The one in the hotel," she says still distant and nonchalant. I don't know if she was experiencing shock, but she sounded like she was looking off into space speaking but not really listening to herself. As if her mind and mouth were in two separate worlds.
"Wait? Dad left with the crack whore? Are you kidding me? Do you really think he's just friends with her Mom?"
And then the mom I know returns and stops sounding like that distant shock-y person, "Oh hell no. I think he's screwing all those bitches. And I'm not sure because I don't know about that world, but I've heard that those crack whores will do anything for a hit or whatever its called."
Okay good she's getting angry. That's what I need. Anger moves faster and works better than shock or sadness. Anger gets stuff done. Sadness just sits and mopes. Shock just pauses and gawks. Anger is good.
"So he just left? Where on earth could he possibly be going with that nasty ass woman?"
"He said he had to finish a job on the East coast or he'd be fired. You know what he did before he left?" She asks.
"Oh God. I don't even know. What?"
"He sat there and cried to the kids. He sat them down and told them that there was a warrant for his arrest and that's why he got arrested. But you know your sister. She grilled him up this side and down. She asked him who those women were and what they were doing calling him. She asked him why he lied and she told him she can't trust what he's saying because he's told too many lies. He actually looked at me and asked me, 'Can I get some help here?'. I just shook my head no and kept cleaning the kitchen. Sam, he did that stupid fake cry thing. You know the one where you look down and your body shakes a little. He put on quite a performance for the kids. I don't think Lucy bought it, maybe Daniel, but not Lucy. She's too damn smart."
"So then what, he just left? When did he say he'd be back," I question.
"Well he told the kids he'd be back before Thanksgiving, but I don't know Sam. I don't know."
"And now he's driving cross country with that stupid Elizabeth girl." I add.
"Yep."
"God. Mom, I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I don't know what's gotten into him. I'm surprised you didn't tell him to get rid of that bitch and and let her find her own way," I say.
"Sam, I just wanted him to go. I just want him gone. Your brother, sister and I have learned how to work with just the three of us. You know your dad has been gone off and on for the last 2 years, and we have learned to be without him. I just wanted him out. Gone," she explains.
"Yeah. I wish I could be there. I wish I could help, I've just got all this work right now with Christmas. I just have to finish my Christmas rush and then I'll be there okay."
"I know Sam. You've got your own family and your business to worry about, so don't worry about us. We'll be okay," she lies.
"Okay Mom. I'll call you later." I say and hang up.
But how do I do that? How on earth do I not worry? My family is hurting. They're falling apart at the seams and I'm just supposed to keep going? Keep working? Keep smiling? God grant me the strength, the serenity, and power to just get through these next two weeks so I can get to them and save the day. But the real question is, can I really save the day? I don't think I can this time.
"Hi Mom. What's going on?"
"Your father just left," she says coldly and without any discernible emotion.
"What? Didn't he just get out of jail? Where is he going? Did you kick him out or something?" I question.
"Yeah he just got out a few hours ago. And he said he had to go finish his job or he'd get fired. So he went and got that woman and left to Illinois or Pennsylvania. I don't remember," she replies blankly.
Wait... did she just say my dad left with that crack whore? She didn't just say that right?!?!?!
"Okay start from the beginning. What happened exactly from the moment he got home," I say.
"Okay well, I was fixing lunch for the kids and he came home. I was trying to act like everything was normal, so it wouldn't scare your brother. And your sister was acting normal too- you know her, she's just picks up on what to do. She's only 13, but she acts 32 ya know? I was making lunch and I asked your father to clean out the garage, since its a huge mess and his crap is everywhere. Then he started going into the Y2K closet and messing around..." she says.
Okay quick stop in the story for a bit of info. My dad is from the country. He owns rifles, goes deer hunting, fishing and the whole country John Wayne thing. He is also one of those survivalist guys that keeps food, water and ammo around for the apocalypse. When the whole Y2K craze hit, my dad stockpiled a ton of food- spam, dehydrated milk, beans- all that nasty stuff that people would never eat given a choice. Its now 2010, but my dad still insisted upon keeping piles and piles of this Y2K food around. I don't know maybe he was saving it for 2012.
Mom continues, "He started pulling stuff out of the Y2K closet and putting it into the pantry. I wasn't paying that much attention because I was trying to cook. He just kept messing around it the pantry and finally I asked why he wasn't cleaning the garage and why he was messing around in the pantry. Sam, he just looked at me, then he looked at the kids and kept stocking the pantry with that nasty Y2K food. I think he knew he was leaving for good."
Oh man. This isn't going to end well is it? The days of fairy tales are officially over.
"Okay then what?" I ask.
"Well, then we decided to go for a drive and talk about why he was in jail and who the women were. I just didn't want to talk in front of the kids ya know. If they want to, they hear everything. Of course whenever I ask them to clean their rooms, they seem to not hear a word," she explains.
"Okay so you went for a drive and what did he tell you?"
"We parked in the high school parking lot and talked. God Sam, here we are skimping on everything. We don't have money for anything extra. I've given up getting my hair done, and my car needs new brakes and you know what he told me? He told me that he just wanted to be someone's hero. That he wanted to be able to pull out hundred dollar bills and pay for everything like the big man on campus. Here we are saving every last dime, and he's out there across the country blowing money left and right on his "friends" as he calls them," she says.
"So what was his explanation about the women and the text messages. What did he say about that? " I question.
"Oh he says that they're just friends and that he has never touched them. There's three women that were calling. Deb was the bitchy one that wouldn't talk to me. Cheryl was the one that kept hanging up and Elizabeth is the one that Dad left with. The one in the hotel," she says still distant and nonchalant. I don't know if she was experiencing shock, but she sounded like she was looking off into space speaking but not really listening to herself. As if her mind and mouth were in two separate worlds.
"Wait? Dad left with the crack whore? Are you kidding me? Do you really think he's just friends with her Mom?"
And then the mom I know returns and stops sounding like that distant shock-y person, "Oh hell no. I think he's screwing all those bitches. And I'm not sure because I don't know about that world, but I've heard that those crack whores will do anything for a hit or whatever its called."
Okay good she's getting angry. That's what I need. Anger moves faster and works better than shock or sadness. Anger gets stuff done. Sadness just sits and mopes. Shock just pauses and gawks. Anger is good.
"So he just left? Where on earth could he possibly be going with that nasty ass woman?"
"He said he had to finish a job on the East coast or he'd be fired. You know what he did before he left?" She asks.
"Oh God. I don't even know. What?"
"He sat there and cried to the kids. He sat them down and told them that there was a warrant for his arrest and that's why he got arrested. But you know your sister. She grilled him up this side and down. She asked him who those women were and what they were doing calling him. She asked him why he lied and she told him she can't trust what he's saying because he's told too many lies. He actually looked at me and asked me, 'Can I get some help here?'. I just shook my head no and kept cleaning the kitchen. Sam, he did that stupid fake cry thing. You know the one where you look down and your body shakes a little. He put on quite a performance for the kids. I don't think Lucy bought it, maybe Daniel, but not Lucy. She's too damn smart."
"So then what, he just left? When did he say he'd be back," I question.
"Well he told the kids he'd be back before Thanksgiving, but I don't know Sam. I don't know."
"And now he's driving cross country with that stupid Elizabeth girl." I add.
"Yep."
"God. Mom, I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I don't know what's gotten into him. I'm surprised you didn't tell him to get rid of that bitch and and let her find her own way," I say.
"Sam, I just wanted him to go. I just want him gone. Your brother, sister and I have learned how to work with just the three of us. You know your dad has been gone off and on for the last 2 years, and we have learned to be without him. I just wanted him out. Gone," she explains.
"Yeah. I wish I could be there. I wish I could help, I've just got all this work right now with Christmas. I just have to finish my Christmas rush and then I'll be there okay."
"I know Sam. You've got your own family and your business to worry about, so don't worry about us. We'll be okay," she lies.
"Okay Mom. I'll call you later." I say and hang up.
But how do I do that? How on earth do I not worry? My family is hurting. They're falling apart at the seams and I'm just supposed to keep going? Keep working? Keep smiling? God grant me the strength, the serenity, and power to just get through these next two weeks so I can get to them and save the day. But the real question is, can I really save the day? I don't think I can this time.
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