Page 60 of Undefeated

Finally, they were smiling.

Her mother, between sobs, laughed. As they hugged again, I relaxed and leaned back into the chair. Watching someone cry tears of joy can be almost uplifting. Watching someone cry tears of sorrow has always made me feel helpless. This was, in my opinion, a combination of both. My emotions were riding a roller coaster and I felt like I couldn’t see the track ahead.

“So, this is Shannon?” her mother asked as she stood again.

“No mother. Shane,” Kace responded.

As her mother approached, I stood. She opened her arms and reached for me, and I met her with a heartfelt hug. As we embraced, she sighed.

“I’m so glad you saved her,” she said as she released me from her grasp.

Before I could respond, Kace spoke up.

“Mother, I saved myself. Shane has just been here for me. He talked me into seeing you. I’ve been scared. If anyone knows, you know,” Kace took a breath and wiped her face.

“Oh look at us, our makeup all over our faces, come on,” her mother said as she grabbed Kace’s hand and led her away.

I felt even more at ease as I heard them laughing and talking in the bathroom. A mother and her daughter reunited after this length of time. I exhaled and relaxed. I thought of my father, and how long he had been dead. It had only been a few years since his death, but seeing him again, now, would be gut wrenching at best. I recalled all of the time he was away when I was young, and seeing him when he would return from war.

The initial excitement of seeing him was almost overwhelming. Sometimes, I felt as if I was going to vomit. After some time, my emotions settled, and I felt like he had never left. When it was time for his next deployment, I would become angry and short tempered. My father’s company, although sacred, was a difficult time for me emotionally.

They walked back into the room laughing. As if I knew what each of them felt, I sensed I could predict what emotions they would feel throughout this meeting, based on my many similar meetings with my father. As my body relaxed, I slumped into the soft chair, and got lost in the memories of my father, my childhood, and my love for both.

Pulling the blankets tightly over his head, the sounds of the screaming are muffled. The closed bedroom door and the television on the other side of the wall prevent the little boy from hearing details.

As much as he fears what he may hear, he yearns to know. Slowly, he pulls the blankets away from his face, in an attempt to hear what is on the other side of the wall. His face barely visible, his head still covered, he peers through the opening he has created in the blankets.

From the other side of the wall, a muffled scream can be heard.

The little boy covers his head.

A dull thud.

The little boy uncovers his face, rubbing the soft fabric of the blanket into the sides of his cheeks.

Two voices, almost inaudible, alternate screams.

Another dull thud.

The little boy covers his face, buries his head into the pillow, and cries.

As he lay in the only safe place he knows, the boy finds comfort in the shelter of the blankets that lay atop his bed. It is here that he can always find solace.

Comfort.

There, with is face covered, he is safe.

KACE. What we try to remember and what we prefer to forget. Our mind doesn’t always have an understanding of how we want these things sorted. Sometimes a simple memory can be enough to defeat even the toughest soul.

Acceptance of these memories as being in the past, and understanding that they are nothing more than a reminder can often allow us to continue through our current life without feeling guilt, sorrow, or shame. Not accepting them as such can allow us to be overcome by the emotion associated with the memory.

“Shane, baby, you fell asleep,” I said as I tugged on his arm.

He pulled his arm away from me and pressed his hood against his face.

“Baby?” I said softly as I bent down toward his face.

He pulled against the sides of his hood and looked out of the opening.