In Each person's life, there is a time when they are forced to make a decision that will effect the rest of their life. I'm glad to say that, on May 25th, 2007, I made the choice that was best for me. Even though the consequences of my actions are harsh and painful, they will be beneficial in the long run.
"James! Phone!" My dad called from downstairs. I knew it was my mother, I'd had butterflies all day thinking about the possibilities of the weekend ahead of me.. It was was going to be a rough one...
"Hey, I'm just about to get off work. I'll be there at five-thirty so be ready. I want to get out of town as soon as possible." My mother ordered when I'd picked up the phone. She worked at the American Legion Post 757, and always received every other weekend off to see me, court ordered. I'm sure if it had been her choice she would work through my weekend and take the opposite weekend off to drink and party.
"Okay, see you when you get here..." I was not looking forward to the weekend. Last time I'd went, four weeks before, she had told me to move all of my belongings to my dads house. My brother, stepsister, mother and new stepfather were moving to a new house and there wasn't enough room for me. I was permitted to keep one outfit, a set of pajamas, and whatever else I could fit in a single three drawer rubber made container. I choose only to leave my knife collection and BB gun behind. Anything else I wanted I would have to bring with me. Having my mother tell me that there wasn't enough room for me in her new life was very painful. How could she do that to her child? But this pain was quickly concealed as I decided to give her another chance. The last of many.
I hung up and slowly walked down the stairs. I knew that my dad and step mom wouldn't like what I was about to tell them. I prepared my argument without thinking out both sides: What else could I do? When was I ever given a choice? "My moms going to be here at five-thirty."
"You know there's no way you're going over there until we see the new house. This is no different than any other time she's moved. Why would you tell her it's okay to come and pick you up?" My step mom asked.
"What should I do? Do you want me to call her back and tell her I can't come?” I shot back a little to hastily.
"Yeah! Call her back, tell her you aren't coming. She knows the courts' orders!" my step mom returned, growing angry.
"No don't call her back, because it's our responsibility to go look at the house. You," My dad said said pointing to me, "shouldn't have talked to us first."
They argued for a few moments and my dad finally said, "Its five o'clock. If he's going to go then we need to go look at the house now."
My parents got my younger siblings into our vehicle and we were off.
"I can't believe you're still going to go after she told you to move your s*** out! What kind of mother does that? It's b***s***!" My step mom tried talking some sense into me, but I wasn't in the mood to argue anymore. How does the world expect me to figure out my life if all I ever hear is how wrong I am?
"Do you know how to get there?" My dad asked.
"I know, going south, its on the left hand side of the highway. On the hill directly above Shelly's Nursery." I returned weakly, "I'll can tell you when I see it."
We drove for about ten minutes, my parents discussing my mother and her antics, while I quietly weighed all of the pros and cons of continuing visitation with my mother. I couldn't produce a list of pros for the life of me. All I came up with were negative results, but I found myself dismissing the entire idea and staring out the window. Soon my dad handed me his cell phone and told me to call her and inform her that we would be back in about fifteen minutes.
"What should I say were doing? Paying bills or what?" I asked, not wanting to tell my mom the truth. Even after thinking of how she's hurt me, the only thing I wanted to do was keep her happy.
"I don't care... tell her exactly what we're doing. She'll know why." He responded.
I dialed her number and it went straight to voice mail. "Hey, it's me. We had to run a last minute errand and we'll be back in about fifteen minutes. I hope you get this!" As I hung up I felt my stomach drop. I could tell this wasn't going to end well.
When I looked up from the phone I saw the turn off pass by, "There it is! That turn back there!"
“D*** it son! I need notice if you expect me to turn!" my dad spat.
"This is out of County limits, she's court ordered to keep you inside the county at all
times." my step mom pointed out.
"No," observed my dad, "Now we're out of Ross County, we just passed the sign, but she lives d*** close to the border."
He pulled off and waited for a chance to turn around. We got back to the turn and drove up the hill past Shelly's Nursery and stopped in front of the house. It sat at the bottom of a three acre hill, looking dismal and bleak.
"I guess it's better than other places she's lived, but I don't like that you're out here in the middle of no where. What if something happens and you can't get a hold of us? What are you going to do then?" my step mom asked.
"I don't know, I have my knives and I can call papa if I need too." I answered quickly.
"You really think one of your knifes is going to help you if Tom goes on one of his
rages?" My dad asked, referring to my newest step dad.
"I don't know! I'll run to a neighbor's house or something..." By this point I didn't want to go with my mom, I didn't want to stay at my dads house. I just wanted to leave. I was exhausted, defeated and destroyed.
We turned around and headed back into town. I contemplated what could possibly happen over the weekend. I knew it would be a "make it or break it" two days. The tension was far too high to be left alone. What if something bad happened? What if lost my temper and actually said what was running through my head with no where to go after I said it? You just don't speak your mind with Tom around. He's not the kind of person you want to upset. You pick your words carefully, and speak them only when spoken to. It's almost like a prison.
When we made it home I could feel my heart growing heavy. She wasn't waiting in front of the house. Maybe she'd got my message before leaving the bar and just stayed there. I'd have to check the answering machine for messages. She probably called and told me to call her when I was ready.
No new messages. I called the bar, "Hey Barbra, is Lydia still there?"
"Nope hun, she left about twenty minutes ago. Sorry."
I dialed her cell phone, not really wanting to listen. I knew I'd cry if I heard the cruel recorded voice. It rang once... twice... "Click. Please wait while the Nextel subscriber you are trying to contact is located."
I felt the hot tears rise to my eyes, they felt like acid. She'd left town. I finally broke, right then I decided I was done. She had left my life for the last time. She was no longer my mother and I no longer was her son, but rather a child that was abandoned.
It has been sixteen months since I last spoke to the woman I once called my mother, and it gets easier with time. I know that this is one of the best choices I've ever made for myself. No longer do I let her pull me down, but I excel because I know I deserve better. I have a woman who has been there for me since I was two, always willing to listen, drying my tears when I cry, and holding me tight when the world comes crashing down. That woman is my step mom. I've always considered her my mom. While my mother was just that, my mother. I have recently found that there is a large difference between a mom and a mother, you can't always hug your mother. But your mom waits, with arms wide open.
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