My Mother’s Version
A glass shattered on a tile floor followed by a shout of frustration. “SHIT!”
I opened my eyes in a dim room and looked around. I was in bed at The Grande Hotel. The glass walls were completely black, and the only light was from the glowing baseboard trim that led the way to the bathroom. Church was behind the island of the tiny kitchenette. He’d dropped a coffee cup, and it broke on the floor. He moved carefully to deal with the mess because he was nude and didn’t want to cut his bare feet.
“I’m sorry for waking you. I was just gonna have some coffee and read while I waited for you to get up, but I bobbled the cup and burnt my hand and dropped it.” As he spoke, he used his white magic to evaporate the spilled coffee and his telekinesis to gather the fragments of broken glass for the trash.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “What time is it?”
“Six-thirty. You can sleep for a while longer if you want. You were up late.”
I tossed the covers off and scooted out of bed. “Not that late. I’ve slept long enough. It’s a new day in a new place and I’m ready to face it.”
He pointed at the culinarian. “Do you want coffee or anything? We’ve got tentative plans for breakfast. Joe asked us to eat with him and Primis in the living room. Also, your mom and Paul are here. They were coming back from their trip to…to…wherever-the-hell they went this time. I texted your mom last night when we were on the plane and she said they’d come here to see you…to see us.”
“My mother is here?”
“Yeah, they’ve got that place, she and Paul do, up in the Glosbe Mountains; their cabin in the woods. They were on their way there to compile the information they found at…what the fuck was the name of that place?”
I forced my groggy brain to work until it remembered. “Septentriones, on the northern continent. It’s a resort, but in King Pravus’ time it was a center of an ancient religious order. Apparently, they’ve got a library that’s over eighteen-hundred years old.”
He shook his head over the name. “I’m never going to remember that. It doesn’t matter. They were on their way home when I texted your mom. I told her what happened and she had their plane diverted here.”
“Why?”
His temper flared and he raised his voice. “I asked her to come because I’m sick of seeing you hurt! Something happened between your folks, and your prick father has been taking it out on you for your whole life. He obviously won’t tell you what it is, but your mother is going to. I’m going to demand she tell you, and me. This has gone on long enough!”
He was wrong. He had to be. “My father hates me, not my mother. He hated me and he took his anger out on her, not the other way around.”
Church didn’t see things that way. “Bullshit. I’ve been thinking about this since we ran into your dad at Josephine’s. No one hates a kid. Whatever happened, it was between them, your folks. Your mom always said it was because of your magic, but magic doesn’t manifest until you’re an adolescent. Your dad was always a prick to you. He’s pissed about something that happened before you were born. I don’t know what it was, but your mom is going to tell us, so help me God.”
I started to argue but he held a hand up for silence. “Look, your situation isn’t like mine with my folks. My folks equally abused me and Mary and Joe. They had no room in their hearts for human frailty. Your dad treated your brother like gold and you like shit. Something must be behind that. If we find out what it is, maybe we can settle it, and you can have some closure. You won’t have to keep going through your life thinking your old man hates you for no reason.”
I argued some more. “If my mother knew what it was, don’t you think she’d tell me? Why would she keep it from me all this time? Why would she endure years of my father’s mistreatment if she knew what the trouble was? It’s me he hates. There’s something wrong with me!”
The weight of the words bore down as I said them. I burst into tears and said them again. “There’s something wrong with me.”
He scooped me up and held me to his body. The soft fur of his chest tickled, but I was in no frame of mind to appreciate the feeling. I said the awful words again. “There’s something wrong with me. I’m the thing he hates.”
He whispered comfort. “There’s nothing wrong with you. There never has been. Something is wrong between them. That’s the only thing it could be.”
I refused to be comforted. “It’s always been me he hated. Always.”
“It’s not possible, Love. No one hates a child unless that child represents something else. You must represent something he hates. I don’t know what it is, but we’re going to find out. I will not see you hurt. We’re putting an end to it. Even if we can’t change his mind, we’re going to uncover the reason. Your mother knows what it is. She must or she wouldn’t have endured the mistreatment along with you. She has a secret, and she’s going to tell us what it is.”
I sniffed as my grief ran down my face and matted the fur of his chest. “What if…what if there is no secret? What if it really is me that he hates?”
“If that’s the case, then he’s an irrational man and nothing he says or does has any meaning at all.”
“My father is not an irrational man.”
“Then something else is behind this and we’re going to find out what.”
I wrapped my legs around his waist to take my weight from his arms. I sniffed again and wiped my tears with my fingers. “Are you sure?”
“I’m as sure as I’ve ever been about anything.”
“I trust you.”
“I know you do.”
I worried that he was wrong, but I also worried that he was right. “What if this thing we find out is terrible?”
He reasoned my worries away. “Have you ever known your mother to do anything terrible?”
“No, I never have.”
“Then the secret can’t be a terrible thing. If we were on Earth, I’d say maybe you were the mailman’s son, but no one gets accidentally pregnant here.” He grinned with amusement. “Wouldn’t that be something, huh? How thrilled would you be to find out he’s not even your dad?”
I chuckled at his silly idea. “It’s barely possible, but very unlikely.”
“Remind me why that is.”
I explained. “Unwanted pregnancies are bad, mostly for the children that result. When reproductive science improved to the point where something could be done, it was. All Solum women are magically sterilized when they reach maturity. It’s a simple procedure that is done with a touch of the physician’s hand. They will not ovulate unless they decide they want to bear a child. Once they make that decision, the sterilization is reversed and they can get pregnant.
“The reversal is only done once the woman signs a document which says she wishes to bear a child and will be financially and legally responsible for that child once it comes into the world. If the woman has a partner, the partner must also sign. If the woman is married, or otherwise in a relationship, and has the procedure done without the knowledge of her partner, the partner is under no obligation to care for or support the child. This avoids any risk of entrapment. All parties enter into the arrangement with full knowledge of what they are about to do.”
Church stroked my thighs and said he understood.
“The point is, as much as I would prefer to be the mailman’s son, it’s not possible. After my mother had Primis, the delivering physician would have reinitiated her sterilization until such time she decided she wanted to get pregnant again. If she had it reversed behind my father’s back and got pregnant a second time, he would have had no responsibility to me at all. He could have divorced her and likely kept custody of my brother because my mother’s duplicity could have been easily proven. The record of the reversal would have been on file. No doctor would hide something like that because they could lose their license to practice.”
He saw a flaw in my story. “What if she had the sterilization reversed and had an affair?”
I shrugged. “It’s possible, but a simple DNA test would prove I wasn’t his son and the same legal conditions would apply.”
“But he would have lost her name.”
I shrugged again. “He could have kept it because it was my brother’s name too. Plus, my mother would have been disgraced. He would have come out on top, and she would have lost her reputation and her rights to my brother. If he could have punished her and been rid of me that easily, he would have done it. I am the son of Lenis and Verpa Summas. That’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“That’s a shame.”
I laughed and kissed the end of his nose. “Yes, it is.”
* * * *
Paul looked great. At one-hundred-and-ten years old, he barely looked forty-five except for his iron-grey hair. He was tall and broad and upright and healthy. The sagging skin of his face had tightened and smoothed as Solum’s magic aged him in reverse. His face had a few lines here and there, but only enough to add an air of dignity, not enough to make him look old. My mother was in her one-eighties but only admitted to one-hundred-and-twenty-nine. She still hadn’t let any grey invade her hair and she matched Paul very well. Both were as glad to see me as I was to see them. We had a fun breakfast along with Joe and Primis, then we retired to our bedroom to talk after the meal.
Church leaned against the counter as was his habit and sipped his third or fourth or sixth or seventh cup of coffee. I stood next to him to leave the seats at the island for my mother and Paul. I filled them in on the circumstances that led me to be in my father’s house and what happened as a result. My mother said words of comfort and tried to make it alright like she always did.
Church was having none of it. He wrested the conversation away from me and asked his question directly. “Why does Verpa seem to hate Shawn? I say ‘seem to hate’ because I think there’s something else going on. There’s an old ugliness between you and him that he took out on your son. I want to know what it was or is. I demand to know.”
I watched my mother carefully as Church made his demand. She was a very intelligent woman and had a brilliant financial mind. She made more money for us through the management of our fortune than I could ever begin to fathom, let alone count. Because of her business acumen, she had a poker face second to none. She had only one tell, and even that was reduced to almost nothing.
Whenever she was under strain, she would make a fist of her left hand and wrap her right over it. I do the same thing. She worked to erase the gesture, but the impulse to do it was still there. I watched her hands and saw the tell. Her left hand barely flexed inward while her right barely flexed outward. She didn’t complete the action but the muscle memory couldn’t be completely blotted out by strict discipline.
Just as she flexed her hands, she lied. “It is jealousy, plain and simple. He has always been jealous of Shawn’s power.”
Church crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Bullshit! I…”
I held my hand up to silence him and stepped forward. I pointed at my mother’s hands. “You just lied. I watched your hands and saw the tell. You lied to me. You’ve been lying for years, haven’t you?”
She pressed her palms to the table to keep her hands still and lied again. “Of course not! Why would I do that?”
Paul turned his chair toward her and gawked. “You just did it again.”
My mother was aghast. “Did you read my thoughts?”
“No, I didn’t. When we married, I promised never to read your thoughts and I never have. I used a tiny bit of magic, just enough to gauge whether you were telling the truth without actually seeing your thoughts. You lied to your son.”
My mother appeared as if she planned to argue, then decided not to. She permitted her hands to do what they wanted. The left became a fist and the right wrapped over it. “I did lie. I always lied. I lied even before you were born. It is my fault your father resents you.”
“Tell me why.”
She explained. “Your father was not always the bitter failure he is now. When he was young, he was filled with hope and enthusiasm. He was going to conquer the world. Unfortunately, while he was blessed with ambition, he was not blessed with talent. He is not a good judge of people or of opportunity. His poor judgement made it difficult for him to advance in business. I offered to help. He resisted at first, but eventually his ambition won over his pride and he accepted. He and I worked together, and his business rose to new heights. It was fun, but it did not last.
“I wanted children. Verpa promised them to me when we married. He put me off twice. The third time, I insisted. He gave me what I wanted and we had Primis. Verpa was thrilled. He had a son and heir to his growing business. I was thrilled. I had a child, a lovely little boy to raise. I loved being a mother. I wanted more children. When I asked your father, he refused.
“Raising Primis was taking my time away from the wealth management company. The huge gains Verpa experienced when the firm had my undivided attention were reduced to merely modest gains. Verpa was not happy with modest anything. He demanded I hand Primis over to the care of a nanny and return to my role as his full-time analyst. I refused and we were at an impasse.”
Church grew impatient. “Cut to the chase, Lenis! We all know Verpa is a self-interested peckerhead. When do we get to why he hates Shawn?”
I begged for quiet. “Please, let her tell it in her own way.”
He huffed but held his tongue. My mother went on. “Our impasse lasted several years. As Primis grew, it became apparent that he was a little version of my husband. Verpa spent more time with him and started to push me away. He wanted Primis all to himself. I was lonely, at odds with my husband and getting less time with my son.
“I demanded he give me another child, but he refused. He had no need for another child because he already had what he wanted in Primis. I threatened to withhold my talents from his business. He finally gave in, but he did it in the most harsh and bitter way he could. He agreed to grant me another child, but he threatened to withhold his affection from me forever after.”
Paul whispered a question. “Why accept such despicable terms?”
“I could have left. In hindsight, I should have. My pride stopped me. My whole family, especially my brother Ars, warned me against marrying Verpa. I did not listen. To divorce him would be to admit they were right all along. They were, but at the time I would have died before I would have admitted it. I also wanted to be near Primis to watch him grow, and I wanted him to have a little playmate. I envisioned brothers united by blood and friendship. Primis the older would look after Chordus the younger. They would be inseparable partners. For many reasons, that is not how things turned out.”
I noticed something in the story that I wanted more information about. “You said two brothers. How did you know I would be a boy?”
She frowned defiantly as if I was about to challenge her memory of events. Her knotted hands separated so she could point at me with one of them. “Your father had the very image of himself in your brother. That was the universe’s gift to him. Now I would say it was God’s gift, but I did not believe in anything back then. I was jealous. I wanted a child like me, but I wanted a boy so he would get along with his brother. I went to a reproduction expert who had some money with Verpa’s firm and asked for help. He took a sperm sample from your father and eggs he harvested from me, and he created you with as little of your father and as much of me as he could.”
I was shocked. “I was a designer baby?”
“You are a physician. I am sure you know the technology has been available for hundreds of years. Popular opinion of it changes, but it remains an option for those who want something specific. I wanted you and I got you. Unfortunately, my selfishness and your father’s intractability destroyed what little remained of our relationship. We stayed married because I wanted you to grow up near Primis, and your father wanted me to remain a part of his business, but the union was loveless as you well know.
“I thought he would be decent to you, but the more you grew the more you looked like me and the more he hated you. I never told him how you came to be. I demanded a sperm sample because I refused to ask him to impregnate me in the traditional fashion. In the end, the physician who helped create you told your father how you came to be. His admission was not a betrayal. I never swore the man to secrecy, nor did I admit I was taking action without my husband’s knowledge. The doctor assumed Verpa was not with me during the treatment because he was busy making money for his clients. It is very possible he made mention of his work when he met with Verpa over his account.
“It does not matter. What does matter is your father found out and thought I did it for spite. Once he had that in his mind, he treated you horribly, he treated me worse, and he doted on Primis even more. I stayed because that was the arrangement he and I made and because I hoped you and your brother would be able to have a relationship in spite of our disfunction. I was wrong. I should have taken you and left and never looked back. Instead, I stayed and let his bitterness break my spirit and yours.
“You escaped when I sent you to live with my brother. I escaped when Church invited me to your wedding. The fact that you were about to be married reminded me that my part of the arrangement with your father had long been fulfilled. Primis was grown and advising Verpa on his own, you were out of the house and about to start a new life with a wonderful man, therefore I had no more reason to stay. I left. And that, my son, is why your father always treated you the way he did. He did it because he thought I brought you into the world to spite him.”
I was stunned. Church had been right with everything. My father never hated me. He barely knew me. He hated what I represented, which was the dissolution of his relationship with my mother. I couldn’t believe the emotional agony I suffered for something that basically had nothing to do with me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I worried I would lose you like I lost your brother and your father. I thought you would hate me for bringing you into a hostile environment like the one you lived in for fifteen years. I would not have told you today except you asked a direct question and I could no longer lie my way out of it.”
Church’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as he stood from the counter to offer his presence for my comfort. He asked a question I hadn’t thought of. “What about his name? You said Primis the older and Chordus the younger. If he was your designer child who you had created in your image, why allow him to be named like that?”
My mother shrank in her chair and answered like I was the one who asked. “It was never meant to be an insult. If we would have had another child, we would have named him Tertius for third. Your father liked the idea of numbering our children and I went along. It only became an insult later when your father’s anger pushed him closer to Primis and made him want to hurt you to get back at me.”
I was still stunned. I didn’t know what to think or feel or do. Church clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “That’s enough for now. Shawn and I are going for a walk. It’s a nice day and there’s a park across the street that we particularly like. There’s even a pond with ducks that we’re not supposed to feed. I want to bring them some crackers.”
Paul agreed. “An excellent idea, young man. I’m certain you and Shawn could use some time to process what you just learned. We got in rather late last night. Perhaps a nap is in order. Shall we see you later on?”
Church had a suggestion. “Let’s have dinner on the balcony. There’s a great view. Would you invite Joe and Primis for us?”
Paul enthusiastically agreed. “We certainly shall. It’s an errand I will relish. Your brothers are a pleasure to visit, just like you are. I enjoyed their company at breakfast and will look forward to seeing they and you at dinner. We’ll take our leave for now.” He rose and touched my mother’s shoulder. “Lenis, darling, they need some time. We should go.”
My mother stood from the table and looked at me desperately. “I understand if you are angry. I will not ask you to forgive me, but I want to remain part of your life. You do not have to love me, just do not shut me out. I could not bear it.”
I didn’t know what to say. Church answered for me. “He needs some time, Mom. We both do. Let it lie for now and we’ll see you later. You and Paul come back about an hour, maybe an hour and a half before dinner. We can say whatever we need to then, alright?”
She promised and let Paul lead her away. They crossed the suite and left through the door to the elevator lobby. Ancil had been waiting on the outside. He entered when they left. Church spoke to him. “We’re going for a walk across the street in a few moments, Ancil. I won’t have anyone with us. We need some quiet time. Send a pair to keep an eye, but don’t let me see them, please.”
“Yes, Boss.” He took his phone out and started to tap to make the arrangements.
Church released me from under his arm and gave me a very gentle push, just enough to suggest motion. “Put your shoes on, Love. I’ll get us some crackers.”
I did as he said while he fiddled with the culinarian for the crackers that he wasn’t supposed to feed the ducks.
* * * *
We crossed the street toward the park. Church had a huge watermelon in his hand and no crackers. I wanted to ask about it, but I decided not to. I was more interested to see what he had in mind rather than let him tell me. He tossed the heavy fruit from hand to hand like it was nothing more than an apple as we walked the paths that had been recently renewed with fresh woodchips. We arrived at the pond and were pleased to find a vacant bench.
There were several benches scattered around, some in the sunshine and some in shade. We sat in the sun because I wanted to feel the warmth on my face. Church used his white magic like a blade to split the watermelon in quarters longways. He took a bite from the middle of one of them and slurped at the juice. “It’s sweet. You want a bite?”
I shook my head that I didn’t. He used his telekinesis to set the four hunks of melon near the water’s edge. The ducks noticed immediately and swam for shore. They gathered to peck and worry the flesh of the fruit with their shovel-like beaks. They seemed to like the treat.
“I thought you were going to bring crackers.”
“I was, but I remembered they like melon. It’s more fun to watch them eat a melon anyway.”
“How did you know ducks liked melon?”
He smiled bashfully at having his lack of solid reasoning exposed. “In my mind ducks liked melon.” He pointed to the proof at the water’s edge. “I was right, see?”
“I see. We’ll have to remember not to leave the rinds behind.”
“I’ll zap them before we go.”
We roasted under the sunshine for a while and watched the ducks. Several passers-by paused their walks to watch with us. Some pointed and said they didn’t know ducks liked melon. Some just smiled. A few said they’d bring some melon the next time they came to the park.
One woman stopped to complain. She put her hands on her non-existent hips and glared over her sunglasses. “Is that your melon?” She demanded.
Church answered. “Of course not, it’s theirs.”
“You know very well what I mean. You’re not supposed to feed the ducks.”
“Says who?”
She waved an impatient hand in the air. “There’s signs everywhere that say not to.”
She was right. There was a sign right next to the path which said that very thing. Even as I noticed it, it seemed to get shorter. I watched intently and realized it was getting shorter. The post was disappearing into the ground. It kept going until the wide face of the sign sliced through the turf and disappeared beneath it.
Church tossed his hand out to match the woman’s gesture. “I don’t see any signs. Maybe you saw them at a different pond.”
She reeled around and aimed an angry finger to where the ground had just swallowed the sign. When she didn’t see what she expected to, she got rattled. She jerked and tried to point across the water to the other bank where she expected there to be more signs. Those were gone as well, presumably pressed into the ground by Church’s telekinesis. The only thing she managed to point to was another couple who were feeding the ducks on that side.
When the woman could find no signs to support her nagging, she reverted to the moral high-ground which she assumed she held. “Feeding wild animals just makes them dependent on man. They’ll forget how to feed themselves and they’ll starve.”
Church was unmoved by her logic. “Alright, lady; I guess I’ll bring them a melon every day until I die.”
She stomped her foot and stormed off in a huff. I heard her mutter that people were ‘infuriating’ as she went on her affronted way. Church shrugged but I laughed. “I could have told her you were infuriating.”
He chuckled with me. “Don’t worry, I’ll put the signs back before we leave. I didn’t break any of them. They’re just underground. All I have to do is pull them up and move them over to put them back in. I’ll clean the dirt off with my white magic.”
I supported his petty act of vandalism. “Leave them where they are. Everyone ignores them and they spoil the view. That foolish woman talks like we’re disrupting a delicate ecosystem here. It’s a pond in a park. The ducks bring people joy. They should receive something for making people smile.”
“I agree.” He paused, then asked the question I knew he would at some point. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I suppose we should.”
“We don’t have to, but it would be better than brooding.”
I smiled at his choice of words. “Is that a pun? Do ducks have broods?”
“I don’t know. I never heard of a brood of ducks. I know murder of crows and gaggle of geese. Oh, and flock of seagulls, but that was a band. I think they did ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World,’ but it could’ve been someone else.”
I shook my head. I liked 80s pop and knew most of the bands and major hits. “Flock of Seagulls was ‘I Ran.’ ‘Rule the World’ was Tears for Fears.”
He remembered. “Right, and Wang Chung did ‘Everybody Wang Chung Tonight.’ Quite a coincidence.”
The tune was actually called ‘Everybody Have Fun Tonight.’ He knew that, but he was teasing to make me feel better. I loved him for it, but I had too much on my mind to laugh. Instead, I blurted out some of the things I’d been brooding over.
“I just learned a great deal, more than I wanted to know. My entire understanding of the situation was wrong. My mother isn’t as innocent as I thought she was. She was intractable and petulant, and in many ways, just as bad as him. My father is both more and less vindictive than I thought. He’s more because of how bitterly he fought my mother over having children, but he’s less because in some ways, I can see why he did what he did based on his understanding of the situation. The whole thing is an ugly mess, and it all could’ve been avoided if they would have just talked to each other without resentment.”
Church spread his huge hands over his knees and gripped them like I do when I’m tense. I noticed the action and recognized where it came from but didn’t dwell on how he came to use it instead of me. “That’s easier said than done for a couple like your folks who had been together for a long time and had grown apart. Two strong-willed people who were each confident that they were right and the other was wrong could never have had a dispassionate chat about their feelings. Everything they said would have been emotionally charged.”
I gripped my knees from the tension, then I felt silly for unintentionally mimicking my husband. “I understand how impossible it would have been. At the same time, I’m stunned by how much it would have solved. Each individual disagreement should have been minor and easily dealt with. None of them were. Each became an absurd standoff, some lousy hill to die on, and for what? Nothing but spite. It’s ridiculous.
“My mother wanted a child. My father refused. She threatened his business if he didn’t comply. He gave her what she wanted but did it begrudgingly and added his loss of that battle to his stock of resentment against her. The child they had looked like him. He was thrilled, but that didn’t erase his resentment. It added to it because my mother took time from his business to raise the child they both apparently loved. They had another fight and nothing was resolved. My mother became disappointed because the child she fought to have was too much like her husband and not enough like her. She was jealous that my father loved and doted on Primis. She got even more jealous when he started to replace her in Primis’ life.
“She decided to have another child, one just for her. That request became another fight that only ended when my mother threatened my father’s business again. He gave in but it created more resentment between them. He resented losing the battle and she resented the lengths she had to go to get what she wanted. She demanded sperm from my father and took it to a doctor who mixed up the perfect little boy who was just for her. That designer child was me.
“My father found out what she did. When he looked at the situation through the warped lens of his resentment, he assumed she’d created me in her image to spite him. Instead of confronting her about it and having the matter out, he made me miserable for my entire childhood to get back at her. Even though my mother could have taken me and left, she stayed out of some perverse notion of responsibility to my father who treated her awfully or to my brother who barely acknowledged her. The whole thing would be hysterical if I didn’t have to live it.”
I stopped talking and realized the breeze and the background sounds from the park were gone. We were inside a box of Church’s magic, and he was leaning very close to me. I didn’t realize how quiet I’d gotten. When I was very upset, I tended to whisper. I was the opposite of Church in that respect. He would have shouted like he wanted the whole world to be aware of his troubles. I whispered like I was embarrassed for having any troubles at all.
I cleared my throat to reset my voice and said that he could let us out. “I want to feel the breeze, and I think I can talk in a normal tone.”
He dropped the magic that separated us from the world. The breeze felt good. I stood up. “Let’s walk around the pond.” I checked on our feathered friends. They were still working on the melon. “Leave it until we come around again. No reason to deny them just because I need to move.”
We strolled clockwise around the pond. Whenever Church saw a ‘don’t feed the ducks’ sign, he used his telekinesis to push it into the ground. It tickled me to watch them get shorter and shorter until they disappeared. He could have zapped them with his white magic, but he didn’t want to call attention to his vandalism with flashes of light.
He asked another sensible question as we passed out of the sunshine into the shade of some trees that grew along the path. “What should we do with the things that we’ve learned?”
“I have no idea.”
“Can I ask some questions?”
“Sure.”
“Does it bother you to be a designer baby?”
I wrapped my left arm across my body and rested my right elbow on my left wrist. I propped my chin in my right hand to think. “It bothers me a little, but not for any reason that makes sense. I never liked the idea of rearranging an embryo’s genetics to create the ‘quote/unquote’ perfect child. I always refused to do that in my practice. I was proud of being who I was because God or the universe made me that way. We decided not to design our children because we didn’t think it was right. It bugs me to find out I’m not as…I don’t know…as pure as I thought I was.”
“Is it a big deal?”
“No, it’s not. I don’t approve of the technology, but the knowledge that I’m a product of it doesn’t change my opinion of myself.”
“I’m glad. What about your mother? Do you resent her for her role in your unhappiness?”
I wasn’t sure how I felt. “Do you think I should?”
“Should you? Absolutely not. Resentment is a toxic emotion. It hurts both parties, the resentor and the resentee. No one should resent anyone else. You can, though. If you’re angry enough at the past. If you blame the emotional abuse you suffered as a child for any of your current doubts, it may feel good to lay the blame at someone’s feet.
“I resented my parents for years. A piece of me still does. I selfishly forgave them for most of the hurt they inflicted on me, but I’ve never been able to release all of it. I doubt I ever will. The trouble is, nothing can change what happened. No one can fix it or make it better. Blaming your mother may feel right, but it doesn’t do either of you any good. In fact, it harms both of you.”
I knew what he said was right. I remembered some of it from our sessions with Church’s therapist, Doctor Recolens. He worked with both of us, but he started with Church, so I always thought of him as Church’s doctor. I didn’t understand what he meant when he said he ‘selfishly forgave’ his parents. I asked about that.
He explained. “Forgiveness is not to absolve the person who did the harm, it’s for the person who was harmed. You hurt me; I forgive you. I’m still hurt. I still bear the harm you inflicted, but I release the anger. Forgiveness is a selfish act. It protects the wronged from consuming themselves with anger over the hurt they’ve endured. The only other option is revenge and that serves no purpose at all. You harm me; I harm you back. Now we’re both hurt and both angry and we both need to forgive each other to protect ourselves from being consumed by it.
“When we ask for forgiveness, we’re asking the other person to release the anger for the wrong we’ve done. I hurt you. I can’t take it back. I can’t fix it or change it. I can’t make it up to you in any real way. I ask you to forgive me so you will release the anger and we can both move past the event. You agree and I’m relieved because I don’t have to worry about you staying mad. See?”
I saw. “You think I should forgive my mother?”
“I think you should consider it. If you’re angry for what she did and you need to experience the emotion, you can do that. If you need to sit with it for a while to fully understand how you feel and why, then do that, but do it actively. You’re good at meditation. If you need to explore it for an hour, a day, a week, or a month, by all means. After that, have done with it.”
“What about my father?”
“Same thing.”
I saw a giant hypocrisy in his advice. “You never forgave my father for kidnapping me!”
We were half-way around the pond and Church stopped to bury another sign. He forced it out of sight and kicked at the grass to make sure there was no void for someone to step in and trip. When he was satisfied, he went on with our chat.
“Your father worked with a known criminal to have you kidnapped for money. He didn’t hurt your feelings; he put your life at risk. He also never admitted he did anything wrong. I wouldn’t put it past him to do it again. I can forgive him for his actions and release the anger I have over them, but I do not have to put myself in the position for it to happen again. You can forgive your father for giving you a crappy childhood, but you probably shouldn’t ever see him again because he will only hurt you again.
“Your mother is different. She put you in the middle of a crappy situation, but in her own weird way, she did her best to mitigate the damage. She should have left once your father demonstrated he planned to make you suffer, but she didn’t. We can play 20/20 hindsight all day and question that decision and a million others. No matter what, she loves you and she shows it regularly. You should forgive her and continue to have the best relationship you can with her.”
His explanation felt uneven, or unfair maybe. He was preaching forgiveness but only in one direction. I didn’t understand why his words should apply only to my mother. “I should have a relationship with my mother but not my father?”
He stared at me for a second like I’d gone mad, then walked several paces away, turned and threw his arms out wide. “Jesus Shawn! They’re different people! You can’t apply the same decision to both. You mother felt bad for years about what she did. She felt so bad, she was ashamed to tell you about it. She’s been the best mother she could be under the circumstances. She’s also been the best mother-in-law I could have ever imagined and she’s an amazing grandmother to our kids. Your father is a vile asshole who still hurts you every chance he gets. What the fuck more do you need?”
The ‘don’t feed the ducks’ woman walked past while Church was sounding off about my father. She gasped when he said ‘fuck.’ “This is a pubic park!” She scolded. “There are children here!”
Church was having none of it, especially because we hadn’t seen any children. “Oh, yeah, lady? Point ‘em out.”
She realized she would get nowhere with him, so she hurried away. He mocked her as she went. “Can’t feed the fucking ducks. Can’t swear around the fucking kids. There aren’t even any fucking kids to swear around. I wonder if I can swear at the fucking ducks.”
I held my hand out to him. He took it and let me lead him away. We got back on the path and strolled in and out of the sunshine. Church calmed down enough to make his point without raising his voice. “Forgiving someone doesn’t mean you approve of what they did. It also doesn’t mean you allow them to hurt you again. You can unilaterally forgive someone without ever telling them. If you’re up against a toxic person, that’s the best way. Your mother is not toxic. Your father is. I trust your mom. I have never trusted your father. I will never trust him.”
I worried what that meant. “Does that mean you won’t let him teach Josephine’s kids?”
“That’s exactly what it means. She’ll find a new tutor and the kids will get over the loss. Why the hell would you want your father near our grandkids?”
I shrugged. “He seemed good with them. He doesn’t have any reason to resent them like he resented me. Maybe he’ll treat them better.”
He refused. “No! Absolutely not! Not even with supervision. On this I am immovable as a fucking mountain, Shawn. Don’t ask me again because the answer will never change. Jesus Christ himself could come down from heaven to plead on your father’s behalf and I would still refuse.”
I knew better than to argue with him. I also knew he was right. I hated to disappoint the kids, but my father was a toxic person. He had never given us any reason to trust him. The whole reason we wound up at his house in the first place was because he insinuated himself into my daughter’s life with the full knowledge that Church wouldn’t approve.
I set the matter aside and tried to summarize my husband’s advice. “I should forgive my mother and tell her the revelations of this morning change nothing between us. I should forgive my father and never see him again. I suppose I should also forgive Primis for not being the big brother I wish he had been. What should I do about him?”
He shrugged helplessly. “You can tell him what your mother told you, or you can keep it to yourself. None of what we found out today should affect your relationship with your brother. It might be good to explain it, so he understands why everything was the way it was. That’s up to you.”
“I think I’ll tell him. Maybe I’ll have mom tell him. He might take it better if it comes from her.”
“Makes sense.”
We walked a little further until we made it back to where the ducks were still clustered around the melon pieces. They’d reduced them to nothing but rind. Church picked the rinds up with his telekinesis and vaporized the pieces with his white magic. The ducks scattered from the flashes. They mostly returned to the water, but a few waddled along the bank.
I’d had a moment to think and arrived at a decision. “I think I should confront my father.”
He sucked a breath and blew it out. He didn’t agree. “You’re going to get hurt, but if you have to, then do what you need to do. I don’t think you’ll accomplish a thing, but I won’t stop you or even try to talk you out of it. Whenever you’re ready to face him, we’ll go see him. He and I need to come to an understanding about the disposition of his home and property anyway. I’m not going to let him throw me off my property and let that stand. It would only embolden him.
“Maybe invite Primis and Joe along and deal with him all at once.” He shook his head. “On second thought, that’s probably a terrible idea. You say your piece and let them have their own meeting. He’ll probably be more receptive to them if we’re not there. I don’t want to be the reason their relationship with him is ruined.”
I agreed with the idea of our own meeting with my father and offered the possibility of a time. “Bem’s test on Jo and Mari’s security will be done today or tomorrow then we’ll be able to see our daughter. We’ll be closer then and can deal with my father at our convenience.”
Church didn’t like the idea. “I don’t want to ruin even a day with Jo and Mari and the kids by seeing your dad. Let’s see him on the way to their place. We can deal with whatever ugliness there has to be and let our grandchildren chase away the anger and tears.”
I agreed as we walked hand-in-hand out of the park and back to the hotel.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
