Chapter 6

The next half an hour dragged on forever. I was lost in a spiral of memories and anger. What I had learned in the session was far worse than what I had allowed myself to believe. My sister had replicated our childhood all over again. I felt such a sense of shame. In my head I knew there was no way I could have changed anything. But my heart was another matter, it would not let go of the fact that Matt had spent 14 years in hell. I knew that I was going to have to go back into therapy again if I was going to be in any shape to help Matt.

With a heavy sigh I walked up to the reception desk and asked, "Shirley, does Dr. Woodlief deal with adult patients as well as adolescents?"

She looked up with surprise and said, "Sometimes he will make an exception."

"Here is my card, please have him call me and let me know if he is willing to see me as well as Matt."

I sat back down and picked up a magazine just to have something to do, but my mind would not let things rest. When I had agreed to take in Matt I knew it was a risk that it could trigger memories from my past. However, knowing that and feeling them were two different matters. At least this time I was being proactive. I needed to be strong in order to help Matt.

When he finally came out of Dr. Woodlief's office, he looked drained. I put down my magazine and we headed home. The entire trip was made in silence. We were both lost in our thoughts and memories.

When we got back to the store Matt said, “I’m going to lay down for a while.”

“Are you going to be ok?”

He nodded and said, “I’m just worn out from everything.”

“That’s perfectly normal, Matt, have a good nap.”

He went upstairs and I went straight to my office. I needed some time alone away from everyone. I knew that I was not going to be able keep myself together much longer. I could not shake the feeling of anger, sadness, and shame that my own sister had continued the cycle of abuse. Long suppressed memories were flooding back into my mind and for the first time in years I felt the full brunt of them. So many years I had spent in therapy to get past the pain and the self-loathing and now it felt like I was right back where I started. This was what I had feared in the back of my mind all along. Somehow I had to find the strength to keep my experiences separate from Matt’s. He did not need to be burdened with my pain. Suddenly I realized that my face was wet with tears and my vision blurred, as I could not hold them back.  By the time I shut the door to my office I was sobbing. I tried to fight it but it was no use.

I was 16 and it was my third night on the street. It was dark and cold and I had not eaten in over 24 hours. I saw an older man eyeing me from his car and I stepped out of the alley and into a hell that lasted for over a year. There was a steady procession of men who used me like I was a piece of meat. I was older than what most of the sick bastards wanted so I was forced to the more violent ones. They did not care if I was a little older, they got off on pain as much as sex. Little by little I felt myself dying inside. I was one of the lucky ones that got away from the street. During that time two other kids I knew died. The first one died of rectal hemorrhage from being repeatedly raped. He was only 11 at the time. The second was murdered and left in an alley, he was 14 when he died.

When I was 17 I got a job washing dishes at a restaurant. They paid me cash under the table, which suited me fine.  The others laughed at me for turning away from a lot more money to wash dishes in some dive. But I had to get away from that hell. Slowly I saved some money and got my GED. I was lucky and got on with a major corporation. For the next 10 years I worked my regular job and attended college at night. It paid off and I was promoted into management. When the company was bought out I already had 20 years in with them and they offered to let me retire early. I jumped at the chance.

I was blessed and I knew it. Over the years I had been in therapy off and on many times.  Gradually the flashbacks and nightmares had faded and lost most of their power. Now it was rare for something to trigger me this strongly.

Slowly I was getting control of myself. Suddenly there was a knock at the office door. I jumped and quickly tried to wipe the tears from my eyes.

“Just a moment,” I said.

Then taking a deep breath said, “Come in.”

Zack came in and with a look of concern walked over to my desk and said, “Mr. Brooks, what’s the matter?”

“Zack, it’s nothing, I’m ok”

“You don’t look ok to me”

I looked up at him and could see the honest concern on his face.

“First, what did you need, Zack?”

“Just to tell you that everything is finished and totaled out. I was going to stick around and work on our meeting space if that is ok?”

“Sure that’s fine, Zack.”

“Mr. Brooks, what’s wrong?”

“It’s kind of personal.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Brooks I did not mean to pry. I am here if you ever want to talk.”

I could tell I had hurt his feelings and his concern was real.

I sighed and said, “Its ok, Zack, I did not mean to snap at you. Why don’t we go upstairs and we can talk while you work..”

He nodded and I slowly got up out of my chair. It was hard to believe that I had been just sitting there crying for over an hour. I was stiff and I moved slowly through the store to the staircase that led upstairs. Nothing was said as we made our way up to the second floor.

When we had turned on the lights I took a moment to see what kind of progress they had made. The group including Zack’s father had been working up here for the last couple of days.

“WOW” was all I could say.

They had done a great job. All the painting was finished in the main meeting hall. It looked completely different now. With the fresh coat of paint it was so much brighter and inviting. I could see that tarps and painting supplies were still in the classrooms and that is where Zack headed.

He broke out his supplies and started to paint. The smell of paint was strong in the air and I watched him as he worked on the trim around the doors and windows.

He did not say anything for a long while as he painted around the doorframe. Then he turned and said, “I mean it, you know. I am here if you want to talk about it.”

“Zack, it’s not easy on me dealing with all that Matt is going through. It brings up way too many memories. If I had not been there for Matt he would have ended up on the streets like I did.”

Zack looked up quickly with a look of shock on his face.

“Yeah, I was a street kid for over a year, Zack.”

“I would have never… I mean…”

“It’s ok, Zack, I never talk about it and you had no idea.”

“How did you get away from it, Mr. Brooks?”

“I was lucky, Zack, but I was also determined that I would not let it beat me.”

“You see, I was kicked out just like Matt was. Then I spent a year on the streets. One day I just knew if I stayed I would die and to be honest I hated my family for kicking me out. I used that hate to drive me to survive. I was not going to give them the satisfaction of just going away and dying. So I got a job washing dishes and saved up…. Anyway when I was given the chance to retire early with severance pay to boot, I took it. That is when I bought the bookshop. It took me years to be able to give up that hate. It had been a part of what helped me survive and I almost felt lost without it. You know I mentioned that I have done some volunteer work in the past. Well that is what I used to do, I worked at the shelter with the street kids. Eventually I had to stop as I was way too emotionally involved. It just took too much out of me. My therapist put her foot down and told me that I was headed for a breakdown if I did not stop. I was just not ready to open up all that from my past. I hated to stop but she was right, it hit way too close to home. I still do volunteer work but in a support role, not directly with the kids.”

Zack was just staring at me like he had never seen me before. Finally he shook his head and said, “God. Mr. Brooks, I had no idea. No wonder you are having such a hard time with this.”

“Yes and the hardest thing is to keep my past separate from his experiences. I would not be helping him if I started reliving my past through him.”

Zack nodded.

We talked for a few more minutes before I glanced down at my watch. It was already past our normal supper time.

I turned and said, “Thanks, Zack, for taking the time to listen and be there for me. It is really appreciated. I had better get upstairs and start dinner. Just shut out the lights when you are finished, Zack.”

He just smiled and went back to painting. 

While I was fixing supper, Matt came out and asked, "What are you cooking, Uncle?"

"Chicken breast in mushroom gravy over rice."

It was one of his favorite dishes and it was easy to fix. While I was cooking the chicken he put the water on to boil for the rice. I could tell he wanted to talk, but he seemed almost scared to bring up today's events. He sat down at the table and watched me work for several minutes before breaking the silence.

"Uncle? Are Mom and Dad going to go to jail? I.mean, I don't want to..."

He was crying now and his head was resting on his arms.

"Uncle, what am I supposed to do! I don't know if I can testify against them. Part of me wants them to hurt like I did, but another part...."

He paused and looked up at me, his eyes begging me for understanding.

"I am so mixed up inside. I love them and they don't even give a shit about me. I still feel like I did something horrible by telling on them. I don't understand them or me! What's wrong with me? Why can't anyone love me?"

There was so much pain in his eyes. I turned the burner down to warm, sat down beside him and took both his hands in mine.

"Matt honey, there is nothing wrong with you at all. You are a wonderful young man. The problem is with them, not you. A long time ago your great grandfather did to my dad what your mom and dad did to you."

He looked confused and I clarified, "I mean he drank too much and beat his children. Then my dad did the same to your mother and me. It only was made worse because I was outed like you were and I was kicked out of the house. Your mom did not get out of the house 'til she married your dad. Honey, I know this is hard to understand... but alcoholism is a disease. But more than even the alcoholism, your mother learned certain ways of dealing with situations from her dad. Your mom recreated what she had at home as a child with you. Honey, I wish to God that she had been stronger and had tried to get help. But she did not and you can't make someone get better, they have to reach a point where they are ready to listen. Matt, I can only tell you how sorry I am that you had to go through all of this for so long. Believe me when I say I know what you are feeling and going through and I swear to you that I will be here for you!"

"Uncle, how come you didn't end up like Mom and Dad?"

"Partly because I got out earlier than she did and partly because I swore that I would not let them win. I was not going to become like them. I avoided alcohol and drugs and I got help dealing with all the anger and hurt. It was not easy letting go of the anger I was feeling but it was necessary to move on and find my own reasons for living. You see, your anger can only carry you so far. It is not something that can sustain you. In the end, if you don't let it go, it will eat you up inside. When I finally realized that it was a turning point for me. I found more positive things to motivate me. Matt, you will find things that you love to motivate you as well. Perhaps the most important thing anyone can learn is to learn to find that motivation from within."

"But how do you know when you have found it?"

"Honey, that will come in time. Right now the most important thing for you do is to just be yourself. I have set it up for you to see Dr. Connor for as long as you need to see him."

"Thanks for everything, Uncle."

"You’re welcome, honey"

He got up and turned the water back up to high and I went back to preparing the rest of the meal. I did not know if he fully understood what I had been trying to tell him, but he did seem more at ease. We had been working on his cooking skills since he had come to live with me. At first had had only done it to humor me, but now he was beginning to take a real interest. We alternated each week with one of us cooking something new. It gave both of us a chance to explore new foods. Surprisingly most of the time they turned out very well. There had been however a couple of notable disasters, but we would just run down to Sally's and eat if the experiment turned out too badly. So far Matt's favorite new food was any kind of stir-fry. I purchased a wok and we both used it often. For me cooking had become a creative outlet. I enjoyed the process of working with my hands and creating something. Now Matt was learning to love it as well.

After dinner Matt grabbed a book and sat down to read and I finished up some paperwork that needed my attention.

At 10:00 PM I called over to Matt and said, “Matt hon, it’s time to hit the sack.”

He was so tired he did not even protest. Just pausing long enough to give me a hug before going to his room.

Matt had started school and so far things seemed to be going well. With his love of tennis in mind, I joined the local tennis club and arranged for lessons for him. I figured that the tennis would be a good way for him to work off some of the stress that he was under. I did not tell him that we were going for lessons, just that we were going to look at a fitness center to join. When we got there, Matt went to change in the locker room and I went and spoke to the pro. His name was Scott, he was in his mid twenties, and was a former satellite tour player. When Matt came back out I introduced him to Scott and told him that he would be getting lessons once a week throughout the year. Just watching Matt's eyes light up and the hug he gave me told me that I had made the right decision. Their first lesson consisted of evaluating where Matt was and what areas of his game needed work. After an hour they came back up to the overlook with Matt talking a mile a minute. While Matt went to change Scott sat down with me and gave me an assessment of where Matt was and what needed work in his game if he was going to make the school team.

© 2001, Joseph Men

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