Hotbox (31 page)

Great. I really didn’t want to get into all the issues with my father. She knew a little bit about how I felt, but I was afraid she’d leave me for good if she knew the reasons.
She had never witnessed the side of my
father I was afraid of becoming.

“Jayden, I don’t know if I’m ready to get into all that.”

“Into what? I only asked why you needed to have a wedding. Why is that hard to answer?”

I sighed
. “It
is
hard for me to answer.”

She was quiet for a
bit
before she said, “
Okay,
you don’t have to talk about it
then. The man I love refuses to marry me under simple terms, and I suppose it’s none of my business to know why—”

“Jayden—
”

“No, it’s fine,” she sighed. “I’m being really pushy and… I’m sorry.”

With a smile I replied, “You’re hardly
pushy
.
If you really wanted
all of my skeletons from the closet, I’m sure it wouldn’t be h
ard
.” 

She studied me
long and hard, and then took one of my hands in hers.

“Ty, I really don’t know what you consider to be ‘skeletons,’ but things you
don’t
have any control over are not your fault, nor do they dictate what kind of person you’re supposed to be. You still have a choice. My mother left me when I was seven years old.
Seven
. From what I’ve been told, I was a pretty good kid, and apparently it ‘wasn’t my fault.’ I don’t know if I believe that. I have no idea why she left, only that she was bored with her life and wanted to pursue a different one. I
was
devastated
. She was my
mom
. I didn’t understand why she would leave me. Now I’m sure there’s a part of me that is the way it is
because
of that experience. It’s probably the part of me that wants a family really bad so I can have what I didn’t have growing up. Maybe I want to prove that I’m nothing like her. But… Maybe I’m afraid that I
am
like her. What if
I end up
feel
ing
the same way she did, or turn into a terrible mother because it might be in my
genes
?”

“You are not going to be a
terrible mother.
It’s not possible.”

“Then what about you?
Isn’t that what this is about?
Aren’t you
afraid of
becoming
like your father?”

It
compl
etely threw me
. Had she already known my
fear this entire time? She had, I was sure of it, because when she looked
into my eyes
,
I could tell she understood. From what she had shared
of
her mother, I knew she
connected with
how I felt
about my father
. But my issues were a lot deeper, more severe
. It was a different matter al
together, and I wasn’t sure she realized what she might be opening up.
She knew my dad had issues, but she had no idea how deep they ran.

“Jayden,” I said quietly,
“my father is an alcoholic.
”

“
I’ve gathered that. But y
ou don’t even touch the stuff and you never will.
You would never do that to me.”

“He was never around.
And i
f he wasn’t drunk, he was hung over.
He barely came to anything my entire life.
”

“You would
never neglect your kids. You’re too loving; you have such a big heart—”

“
He
hardly
did anything for me
or anyone else
.
He’s the most selfish man I’ve ever known.
”

“You’re not like that, Ty.”

“He abused me, Ja
yden. He
knocked
me around
from the time I was
five
years old.”

There, I said it.
And s
he was silent, as I k
new she would be. I could tell she knew my father was a drunk, but it was obvious she didn’t know it went beyond that. However,
what she said next surprised me.

“I’m very mad at you.”

And she was; I could see it in her eyes.

“Ty, you are nothing like that.
Nothing
. I understand your worry
because of what you’ve been around your whole life
, but you are not like your
father
.
Do you really think you’ll be a deadbeat dad? Do you really feel you could become a drunk and hurt your kids?”

             
“Yes.” Why beat around the bush anymore, right?
“And what if…and then there’s you, and what if I…?” I sighed. “Jayden, I just don’t know, okay? I mean I can’t even stomach t
he thought of it
but…
The fear is there and…
” I’d already said too much, but I guess it was about time. The only thing I could finish with was, “I am his son.”

             
Her face softened and she looked at me for a long time. Finally she took
both
my
hands
into her
s
. “I love you so much, Ty. You are the sweetest guy I have ever met and y
ou truly are a wonderful person
. You are too good for a life like that. You’ve survived it because you’re meant to do
more
. You’re meant to be a better person, and you already are
. You are exactly who I need
.
Your desire to be a good person and a good father means more to me th
an you know.” She
took my
face
in her
hand
s
and kissed me
. “I won’t talk about marriage again, unless you bring it up. Just
…
let me know when and where and I’ll be there,” she smiled.

             
She cuddled against me, so
I gathered her in my arms and held her close.

“Okay,” I
agreed
.
I wished I could give her more than that, but I honestly couldn’t.

             
We
stretched out
on the couch together for a couple of hours and watched a movie. Her words meant the world to me and it was everything I needed to hear, but it just killed me that I couldn’t accept
that my life might be different than what I had believed it would be. It was all I knew and all I
was afraid
I would become. I swore to myself that I would nev
er get married; never have kids
because I refused to subject another person to the life I grew up in.

Being with Jayden confused me because I did want to marry her, but I was still unable to rid myself of the fear that kept holding me back.
I felt like a better person when I was with her. I felt like there really was more to me, like she said, and that my future was full of possibilities.
I do
n’t know what kind of father
my dad
would have been if he hadn’t
turned to
alcohol
to
solve his problems
. Maybe I would’ve had a decent childhood and not have to be sent to live with a relative because my dad couldn’t stop drinking.
When my father was drunk, he was a completely different person than when he was sober.

Apparently t
he turning point was when my mother died.
I don’t really remember too much of it, but I do remember how t
he house suddenly felt
empty,
lonely. My father wouldn’t talk to me; he wouldn’t hug me or kindly tell me my mother was in a better place, like a
decent father should have done.
My aunt stayed with us for a couple of days and she was the one that tried explaining how things were “going to be different.”

My dad completely
neglected me after that. Sue
returned a week
later to find out he
had just been leaving me home by myself while he went to work.
I was
barely five
years old.
There was hardly even any food in the house. After she laid into him, he started making
more of
an effort. He had one of the neighbors
watch me while he was at work—a
cranky
, heavyset woman with five of her own kids that she basically just let loose in the yard.
I pretty much blocked out any memories of that experience, but t
he only thing I
do
remember
from her house is
having
plain
peanut butter sandwiches and water.
Her kids were hellions and I never liked to play with any of them. I hardly ever spoke and Mrs. Brandt told my dad there was something wrong with me.

To this day
I
can’t stand
even
the
smell
of
peanut butter.

The first time
my dad ever hit me was about three months
after my mother died. I remember it perfectly because it was Halloween. My aunt had bought me a Luke Skywalker
costume
and I was waiting to go trick or treating. My father was sitting on the couch drinking and I had asked for the second or third time when we could go. “I said not to ask me again!” he yelled, smacking me across the face. I remember sitting on the floor, crying, and he just stared at me. Finally he told me to sit by him and said that he was sorry.

I didn’t go trick or treating that
night because my father wasn’t feeling well.
There were a lot of things I missed
out on
because he wasn’t
“
feeling well.
”

I’m not sure how my aunt found out he had been
drinking too much and pushing
me
around
, but a year later she took me to go live with her. My father demanded that he at least got to have me on th
e weekends, so she agreed to it—only if he didn’t drink.
He
never
stopped
, but he lied to her so we
ll he got away with it for a couple
of
years. I never talked about it; I didn’t tell anyone that my dad would lose his temper, and then tell me
that
he was sorry and would never do it again. I probably believed him
clear up
until I was twelve years old.

My aunt wasn’t the greatest parent, but compared to my father she was a saint. She had two older
daughters
from a previous marriage, and they were with their dad
most of
the time. I didn’t really see them much so it was just like being an only child
again
.
But
Sue put me in Little League when I was
eight and
that alone made her a hero in my eyes.
I loved it from day one
. She only lived two
blocks from the baseball fields, and
I could easily get myself to practices. One of her neighbors gave me some baseball equipment and it all got plenty of use. My favorite was a metal-framed net you threw against so you could practice
throwing and
catching the ball. I remember pl
aying with that thing for hours
—it was my only friend.

When I was fourteen Sue decided I should probably live with my dad full time. She and her
new
husband bought a camper and they
wanted to start traveling
. I r
emember being in the other room,
hearing her tell
my dad
if she heard anything about him
getting rough with
me ever again she would call the police and they would take me away. My father cussed the daylights out of her until she walked out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

But by then
I was getting taller and starting to fill out a bit. I began helping my dad out in the garage a lot
,
and I realized it kept him from drinking. The more interested I became in mechanics, the more my father talked to me. We actually had a decent relationship
by then
.
He taught me everything he knew about cars, and even though I didn’t want to turn out to be anything like my dad, I couldn’t keep myself from loving the one thing that
he
loved.