Chapter 3
It was but a couple days before the phone calls started. I could hear the crying through the wall of my bedroom or through the door down the hallway as I sit in the kitchen. It wasn’t over and began to realize it never would be. Hope leaked out of my pores, a slow and apprehensive drip. My heart was tearing, stitch by stitch. When I heard the pleas in her voice as she spoke to him, I felt less and less like a daughter. Where was the mother I had known? The one that unapologetically kept no secrets; whom was brutally honest. Where was my best friend? It was her and I against the world once. I couldn’t even look her in the eye now without sorrow drowning my body.
Time past and he was out of prison again. He did not continue living with us but he was still constantly around. I remember there was a moment in the kitchen, just him and I. I tried to avoid him, act like he didn’t exist. He was not happy about that. He turned to me and asking with a hint of exasperated disbelief, “So what? Now you’re scared of me?”.
I looked at him in shock, not expecting the acknowledgment. He had never said anything referring to the incidents. He was always pretending as if everything was fine and dandy. My refusal of his presence had gotten to him. I felt courage and power in this. “Don’t talk to me. Leave me alone.” Stern in my reply, I turned and left it at that, not waiting for his reaction. I didn’t need it. I needed to be left alone.
I hated him. I never knew what hate was until now. He took everything from me. My whole life now seemed like a facade. Everything I thought I had, a family who loved me and would protect me no matter what, was never real. I blamed him for showing me the truth. For taking my family and my innocence. He could die and I would smile. Hate was bittersweet on my breath.
I was alone and I now accepted that. There was nothing I could say or do to make my family care for me. I had to do this alone. I had to protect myself and man the fuck up. I asked for a video camera from my school friend. I would record him coming into my room. I noticed long black hair on my bed and knew he was visiting it when I was gone. I would catch him in the act. I would have proof. I would leverage it for freedom. He would no longer be allowed in my house.
The friend refused and I couldn’t get my hands an a camcorder. I would have to do something else. I had his phone number so I texted him. Told him I wanted to talk. He was happy. He would leave me a written letter under my pillow. This was perfect. Almost better than a video. But the letter never came.
I have two brothers, both older. Billy and Will. Will is the eldest and moved with my birth father when my parents separated. I was barely a year old. They moved all the way to Virginia on the opposite side of the country. I didn’t know either of them. I met Will when he moved in with us while I was in 4th grade. He stayed for a couple years and then moved back to Virginia. For the last couple months Will had been staying with us again.
Every year my grandmother, on my mom’s side hosts a Memorial Day Barbecue. We travel an hour and a half out to see her and enjoy what is always my favorite day of the year. It was here that I would see my father for what seemed like the first time. Apparently he was coming down to stay. I didn’t know what this meant for me. I was scared and confused. You see, I was told he was coming down a few days before by Will. I was also told by Will not to tell my father, George, about Marco. Will knew the truth about Marco because I had confided in him when he had returned. He cared no more than the others, regularly going to play golf or to the movies with Marco. But he seemed to believe that George would care, otherwise why would he tell me to keep it a secret. I puzzled at this and nodded as if understanding. Was this my next move? If I told him, would he be the one to protect me? The only family member that I never knew, would be the only true one.
I had two goals the morning of the party. First, to decide if I were going to confide in a stranger. Second, to catch the devil. For the past couple years, Marco had attended these parties. When we arrived everyone questioned his absence. The truth, I told my mother he was not allowed to come. This place was my sanctuary and I would not give it up. The lie, he had work. Then there he was, my father. He looked like the pictures, skinny, mid-height with dark black hair and a thick mustache. And I felt nothing. Why would I? I had never known him, never missed him. A stranger he was and a stranger he is. A part of me thought I would will feel something. It was then I knew I wouldn’t tell him. Fuck Will, fuck them all. I had myself.
I sent the text. My first goal was a loss. I would succeed in the second. I learned Marco’s motives. He never laid a hand on me. He was smart. He knew if he did, he would go back to prison and he would never see me again. He cared about me. I wasn’t a one time thing. He was infatuated. And I realized my silence had made him believe I was receptive. He thought I liked him the way he liked me. It was twisted but with this understanding I knew I was smarter. I was no longer at his whim. I could control my life.
In a previous text exchange, only a couple days prior, Marco asked me “Did you and Rachel like what you saw?”. He was referring to that first night in the livingroom and also to a night(s) I never knew about. Guilt consumed me for allowing my best friend to stay the night so many times. How careless I was to bring her into this. When I showed her the message she said she never saw anything, so atleast it was unknown? I replied saying I didn’t know what he meant. It was only half a lie.
Now I asked him about the shower incident. What had really happened. He told me the truth and that my mom knew the truth as well. I had the ammunition. All the days I had thought I was crazy; That I must be crazy because my family would never betray me. Those days were done. I had concrete proof that no one would be able to deny. Today, I had won.
themoon66 