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Today has been a roller-coaster ride from hell. And it isn’t noon yet.
When my parents appeared outside the courtroom, confusion set in. The last time we spoke was the day they banished me from their lives.“No daughter of mine will have a child out of wedlock.”Those were my father’s final words to me. Literally disowning me with my mother at his side. She hadn’t even flinched at his words. If anything, she appeared relieved I was leaving.
What kind of people do that?
Jonas gets in the Jeep but doesn’t start it. We sit in silence as the last thirty minutes process. Their cruel words. Bringing a hand to my cheek, I rub against the sting beneath the surface. I zone out and scan memories over the last seven and a half years. Plucking out every oddity I couldn’t explain. Wondering if my parents had been preying on me—preying on my daughter—all this time.
“How are you?” Jonas asks, breaking the silence. He reaches across the console and weaves our fingers.
I twist in my seat and face him, leaning against the headrest. “Freaked out. Puzzled. Hurt.” I shake my head. “Relieved. Glad this is all over.”
He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “Sorry you had to deal with all this in the first place.”
“Not your fault.”
“No, but no one deserves to deal with what just happened.”
We stare at each other, his thermal pools a swirl of emotions. Sadness. Worry. Happiness. Hope. I grab hold of the last two and hug them to my heart. I fear the first two will linger if I don’t tell him more about what happened with my parents. And the way I was raised.
“Hate to say it,” I croak, my throat like sandpaper. “But I expected nothing less.”
Jonas juts his bottom lip out, the corners of his eyes turning down. I lift my free hand and trace his lower lip from corner to corner.
“Growing up in the Rooker house was not like being around your family.”
“You don’t need to explain, Autumn.”
I nod. “That’s one of the things I love about you, ya know. How you don’t hold expectations over my head.” He smiles as I stroke my thumb over his cheek. “But I need to get this out.”
“Okay. Just don’t feel obliged.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Jonas turns into my palm and kisses the center. His touch buzzes under my skin and shoots a current straight to my heart. When my eyes open and lock on his, peace washes over me. Even with the pain of the past thrown in my face minutes ago, Jonas settles every anxiety-ridden memory.
Swallowing, I take one last deep breath and dive in headfirst. “When you’re only exposed to one way to live for the first thirteen years of your life, it’s difficult to believe another way exists. As a little girl, I looked up to my parents. Did as I was told. Took the beatings when I disobeyed. Listened to the constant verbal beatdowns. How did I know being treated as such was wrong? I had nothing to compare it to. Father enrolled me in the church’s private school at age three. It wasn’t a bad place. The teachers were wonderful, as were my classmates. With my father giving sermons several times a week at the church, everyone looked up to him. Saw him as a role model. Even me.”
I close my eyes a moment and collect myself. Jonas tightens his grip on my hand, showing silent support.
“Even when he hit me. I was taught to believe disobedience equals punishment. Punishment in the Rooker household equals a hole-laden wooden paddle against your bare butt. Obviously, I avoided this as much as possible. But, sometimes, I received punishment simply because father had a bad day.”
I tuck my lips between my teeth. Jonas caresses my cheek with his knuckles. “Sorry this happened to you, Autumn.” His voice soft and sad.
“Wasn’t until I went to public high school that I learned how different my life was. Compared to my new friends, I was sorely lacking. Yes, I had intelligence. But only from textbooks. And even then, my education had been tweaked around scripture. Wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it secluded me. Put me in a box with the teens labeled as weirdos or freaks by the popular students. I didn’t let it bog me down, but I wished to make at least one friend who didn’t look at me like I traveled through time from the 1950s in my handmade dresses.”
Jonas laughs and my brows shoot up in question. “You still dress like someone from another era. Just look sexy as hell now.”
I join in his laughter. “Touché.” He makes a fair point. “Anyway… the longer I spent in public school, the more I opened up. Not just verbally, but in the way I expressed myself. Clothing, makeup, hairstyle. My parents never spent a dime on any of it, though. I had to earn it working at the grocery store near the house.” Taking a deep breath, I lick my lips. “I remember the first day I wore makeup and my mother called me a whore. The first time I wore clothes that showed my curves and she backhanded me so hard I had a bruise on my cheek for a week. Every time I painted over it with concealer, I cried.”
Jonas stares at me, glassy-eyed. “Wish I would’ve found you sooner.” I love the way Jonas wants to heal all of my scars. Wants to replace every action that has blemished my life.
“Me too. But if you had, I may not be who I am today. And I love who I am. Especially with you.”
He leans across the console and kisses me. So tender. So sweet.
“Esther—my sister—never received punishments. For whatever reason, she did no wrong. She was the daughter my parents always wanted. Obedient, quiet, subservient. When my parents threw me out, she stood by their side with disgust on her face. My parents had learned to keep her in private school after seeing how it changed me. Last time I spoke with her was about a year ago. Although she still feels my parents were doing what they thought was best, she is slowly being exposed to the world. Hopefully, in the future, we’ll be in a better place. I’d love for Clementine to meet her cousins. And I pray one day to get to know her again.”
“You will,” Jonas states with confidence.
I exhale and release it all. My mother and her twisted version of love. My father and his rigid outlook on life. I breathe in fresh air and expel every ounce of the hurt they inflicted upon me.
