“You have the goddamn audacity to try and take him back after all of this time you just dropped off the earth.” My dad screams at me. I don’t want to start this, so I just stay quiet. It’s easier if I just don’t say anything. “After you’ve been fucking gone for the last year, you think it’s just okay to come back and demand him back.”
“Excuse me!” I hear Ro start as he stands next to me, but I just put my hand up, telling him I’ve got it. Although, I’m not sure if him even talking would matter because based on my father’s reaction he hasn’t even registered that he said anything.
“You’re just fucking selfish; you always have been.” I can see Ro’s fists clench.
“I’m selfish?” I laugh under my breath, and I watch as my father’s eyes widen, his face reddening as well.
Taking steps towards me, he starts yell again. “You think it’s fucking funny? How dare you laugh. This is your fucking son that we’re talking about, and you think his well-being is comical. You think how you’ve fucked him up already, is fucking comical—”
I’m sure he’s going to say more but my laugh cuts him off. When I’m able to get it under control I, in an extremely calm voice, trying to calm the situation or at least quiet it down so no one ends up getting punched in the face. “Why’d I stop going to the babysitters?”
He completely stops, shocked. “What?” I’m curious as what’s the reason that he’s really shocked though. The fact that I remember or that I’m bringing it up after nearly 2 decades of no one speaking about it. I just find it ironic how I’m selfish, yet we pretended none of this happened because it made him uncomfortable.
“When I was a kid, why did I stop going to the babysitter’s house?” I watch as my mother shifts uncomfortably from where she sits on the couch, confused. But my father continues to just stare at me and blink, stunned, speechless, maybe slightly ashamed…
In my entire life I’ve never seen my father speechless or unable to yell at me, to make whatever it is as my fault, as he’s never to blame and is a perfect human specimen.
I laugh after I wait an uncomfortable amount of time in silence. “Tell me, do you not know because you could never actually find out what happened, or did you just rather not know?” He still doesn’t answer, but his eyes somehow widen more, the amount of eyeball which is exposed is the only amount of answer that I need. “Of course.” I let out a sad laugh as I see Ro’s eyes widen as well. “I didn’t need my sister to tell me that when you said it to her, I already knew it. Because you left a 6-year-old alone to deal with being molested by herself.” His eyes drop now, finally too ashamed to look at me. It’s the first time in my life that I’ve ever said the actual word, admitted aloud that was what happened, and it wouldn’t surprise me if this was the first time my father has ever had to come with the harsh reality of what had actually happened. “And granted I may have suppressed those memories for a decade, but the complete spiral that I went into when I realized that the nightmares, I had been having for a goddamn year weren’t actually nightmares, but fucking memories. But you didn’t know that did you? How could you? You weren’t around enough to fucking see it.” I say shaking my head, but still, somehow, able to remain level head and keeping my emotions at bay from spilling over. Another sad laugh falls out as I shake my head, bringing my hand up and touch my lips until I move them, pointing in his direction. “Ya know, my whole life I wondered why I hated myself. Wondered why I wished I was fucking dead. And why I tried to kill myself. Ironically, even when you suppress a memory or memories, your body remembers, your subconscious remembers, your fucking fight or flight remembers. Which now makes sense why I hated myself and why when I was spiraling, and I woke up knowing that I had been drugged the night before I knew I couldn’t come to you and tell you. Because if you would have screamed at a 6-year-old and made her feel as if what happened was her fault, you would definitely would have made me feel that way again.” I watch him swallow. “So yes, after the father of my son, a man I was in love with, died, I had a hard time coping because you fucking taught me since I was a child that all of these things were my fault. But you didn’t see that spiral either, did you?” I ask him. “You never noticed all the times I spiraled, have you? How could you? You never gave a shit about me enough to see the pain I was ever in.” I shake my head, trying to force myself to not let my emotions take over. “But I’ve learned something in the last few weeks.”
“What’s that?” His voice is hoarse as he asks it, breaking between words.
“That none of that shit was my fault. That I fucking deserved better than you were ever willing to do for me. I deserved to be protected regardless of if it makes you feel uncomfortable or not. Pretending that it never happened, wasn’t protecting me, because it was only a matter of time before that memory resurfaced.” Sighing out, I look back at him. “But I’m aware that I’m not perfect, I know the mistakes that I’ve made.” I stop again as I take a couple of steps towards him, closing in the distance between us. “And that’s why I will be getting my son back. Because I’ve taken the time and done the work on myself. I’ve self-reflecting doing something for my son that you two were never willing to do for me, and I’m willing to own up to my faults, unlike you.” I can feel Ro’s hand on my back, giving me the reassurance that I need. “So, we can either work together on this and you will keep some sort of relationship with us. Or I’ll take you to court, all of this will come out, and when I get him back, you’ll never spend another moment with me again.” I’m hoping that they don’t hate me so much that it seems like the better idea of the two. I’m hoping that my parents have some sort of fucking parental love for me.
“Come on.” Ro whispers as he nudges me before we both shift to more towards the door.
My mother’s voice stops me in my tracks. “You would still let us have a relationship with him.” She asks. “Even if we took you to court and didn’t have a relationship with you?”
“Yes.” I stop and look at her.
“Why?”
“Because he shouldn’t be punished because of our shit. This has nothing to do with him.” I don’t even need to look over at Ro to know that he’s smirking, a proud smirk, at my words.
I can’t read her expression as she continues to simply look at me, stunned. I think she’s going to say something else, but she finally drops her eyes, remaining quiet this time.
Sighing as I turn around and we walk out of the door.
We’re in the car already out of Palm Springs when Ro finally turns, looking at me. “Why didn’t you tell me everything?”
“What?”
“You have a sister?” He asks me and immediately a laugh falls from me, looking over I smack him lightly.
“Yeah, she’s a lot older, we don’t really talk.”
“You told me about when you were little and about when you remembered it, but the rest?” I know that he means being drugged.
I let out a deep sigh before I look at him. “Because I’m careful with how I release my trauma to people.”
“What?” He slightly laughs.
“I started to realize in high school as I would talk about things lightheartedly now and then and people would completely freak out because it was traumatic. But to me that wasn’t the traumatic shit that happened. It took me a long time to realize what that meant.” I shake my head, laughing. “Eventually, with the random stories I would tell people stopped believing that they were real. They thought I was making up all of this for attention.” I laugh this time. “Believe me, I am aware that the stories don’t bring attention.” I stop, sitting back and thinking for a moment. “Or maybe I was, maybe I was just trying to get someone to validate how I already felt about it. Hmm.” I smirk, shaking my head. “The way the brain works, I’ll never understand.”
“Can the computer truly understand how the computer works?”
Thinking for a second I look over at him and shrug. “I have no idea.”
“I think that’s the point.” He smiles before he looks back to the road.
