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"Do you think your mother knows your father abused you and
your sisters?"
Even though I'd already given that question hours of
consideration, it took me a minute to answer.
"I think so, on some level." I breathed deeply. "I think that may
"I think so, on some level." I breathed deeply. "I think that may
have been part of what drove her to her bed. She's so bitter
today, and half of what makes her bitter is that we all have a
relationship with my father. It infuriates her because she believes
we think she's the only sick one. It's almost like she's been on the
verge of telling us that his sickness dwarfs hers, but she never
could quite seem to find the words. Because to find the words,
she'd have to admit that she knew what was going on. "The main
difference between my parents, Destiny, is that my mom has
carried my father's guilt. But he has never carried hers. I'm sure
that he doesn't waste one minute of his life today worrying that
perhaps he should have done something more for his children
when his wife took to her bed for years on end."
"What did he do?"
"He golfed. He drank thirty-five thousand beers and I'm not
exaggerating. I figured that out one day. He let us fend for
ourselves. Now pretend that she did know something was going
on, and again, I'm not sure that she did, but pretend that she did.
What did she do? She became so depressed that she couldn't
get up. That's the difference between the two of them. He feels
nothing. And she feels too much."
"I don't know how you do it, Kris."
"Do what?"
"I don't know how you manage to live without feeling rage every
day of your life, rage at these two people who did these horrible
things to you."
"I don't. I try to control my rage, but it's always there."
Destiny reached over to calm my hands that were playing with
Destiny reached over to calm my hands that were playing with
packs of sugar as if they were cards.
"This means a lot that you're talking to me, Kris."
"About my family?" I stopped fiddling.
"About yourself."
"Thanks for listening." I smiled at her shyly. She grinned.
Right then, at that exact moment, I realized that for the first time
in my life, I had a true friend. It made me sad for all the years I'd
spent alone, for all the time I'd lost.
Destiny must have seen the frown cross my forehead.
"Hey, Kris, why the frown? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said, erasing the sorrow. "Let's talk about you for a
minute. My next plan is to meet with Lydia Barton your
mom's old friend...."
Chapter 13
The next Saturday, with a twinge of guilt, I realized it had been a
long time since I'd talked to my grandma.
Pretending to be on my way home from the library, I stopped by
her house to see if she needed any groceries.
As independent as Grandma Ashe was, she'd never learned to
drive a car. Once, I'd gotten her to take a spin around the block
on my moped, but that was the extent of her motoring
experience.
Whenever I could, I stopped by to take her grocery shopping. I
rarely needed groceries myself because I never ate at home, but
I didn't mind taking her.
I rang the doorbell several times but got no answer. Undaunted,
I peered in the front window and spotted Grandma sitting
I peered in the front window and spotted Grandma sitting
comfortably oblivious in her living room. By banging on the
screen and jumping up and down, I finally got her attention.
We met at the front door.
"Hi, honey, why didn't you ring the bell?" She hugged me.
"I did," I said, suppressing my irritation. "Maybe your hearing
aids aren't working, Grandma," I added, although I could see full
well she wasn't wearing them.
"Oh, I only wear them when I have company. I'll go get them."
She retreated into the bedroom.
When she left the room, I walked over to her mantle and studied
the family pictures I'd seen a hundred times before. This time
was different, though. This time, I was looking for clues.
There were my cousins in long hair and bell bottoms, and there
was my grandpa, a man who died before I was born.
And there was our family. Father, mother, four girls and a boy.
Even then, even when we were all together, we looked
miserable, especially me. My body language told it all. In every
picture, I was standing a good foot away from everyone else,
looking perpetually mad. Forever, I had tried to separate.
My grandma returned, hearing aids in place.
"Do you think Mom and Dad were good parents, Grandma?"
She looked at me quizzically, like I'd grown two heads while she
was out of the room, and for a second, I thought she wasn't
going to answer.
"They did their best, honey. That's all anyone can do."
"But do you think their best was good enough?"
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