Em sat on the floor, her back against the wall. Trev, like a child, snuggled to her torso, his back spooned to her warm and soft chest, her legs, knees bend, holding him with the care of love, her fingers gently massaging his temples, both floating in the waves of conversation, staring through the plate glass upon the unjudging cosmos winking wisdom as shadows of lace on their young faces.
Em: Tell me about your father?
Trev: What do you want to know?
Em: Everything.
Trev: Be careful what you ask for.
Em: Forewarned. Now tell me, what kind of hynerian was he?
Trev: Bright, intelligent, caring, flawed, frustrated, trapped, angry, blind, black and white, right or wrong, rigid, emotionally withdrawn.
Em: Blind?
Trev: Not of sight but of vision.
Em: Explain.
Trev: My father could only see the world from his particular point of view, which, for him, was the only view. I think he was sincere in his view, however mistaken, but to argue with him was a waste. There was no room for grey in his world-view nor, with the children, was there room for open discussion of opposing views. Let me clarify that. We had discussions but as soon as your view was different from his, the conversation turned to argument, voices raised to a sad ugliness. And so, we learned to not express. What was the point? He would have an opinion, and we would either agree or just politely listen without engaging and try to leave the room as quickly as possible.
Em: Sounds a little unhealthy.
Trev: You asked.
Em: Surely he must have suspected?
Trev: Suspected what?
Em: The withdrawal.
Trev: That's a great question. I suspect that he did but it was not something he ever really talked about, except . . .
Em: What?
Trev: There were times.
Em: Tell me.
Trev: Well, when he had had a few, he became a different person, a nicer person, a more caring person.
Em: You say that like it is a bad thing.
Trev: A sad thing. When he was under the influence you could see a side of him that was loving, hurting, in pain. And, I suppose what was sad, depressing actually, is you knew, as soon as he was sober again, the curtain would fall, and that loving person would be gone, and no matter how hard one tried, that curtain could not be moved. And we would live with the angry, frustrated, opinionated person again.
Em: Why was he so frustrated?
Trev: He didn't fit.
Em: Fit what?
Trev: He had no social skills. He didn't know how to interact with others. He had lots of trouble at work, a continued source of frustration for him. He was brighter than his superiors, had a greater intellect, yet, was destined, to the end of his days, to always be the subordinate. He couldn't understand it. Thought the world was against him, that others were jerks. You see, he couldn't see. He couldn't take an honest appraisal of himself and see himself for what he was. As a result, he was trapped. Trapped in a life of constant pain, constant frustration and that frustration spilled out at home. My mom took the brunt of it. How she stayed with him is today, still, beyond my comprehension. Said she loved him. Said we never saw sides of him that she did. Said he really did love all of us. Said marriage was for better or worst and that when it was 'worse' wasn't an out but part of the deal.
Em: Did you believe her?
Trev: I don't know. When I was younger, when I was living in that environment, no. She spoke of things I simply couldn't comprehend. The side of him she spoke of, I never saw, and, at that age, didn't have the wisdom or vision or imagination to see. All I knew was pain, day in and day out. My life was one of walking on eggshells. Always fearful that the slightish infraction could set off his irrational anger, the yelling, the berating. When you live in that bubble, when that is your only experience of a person, it is very hard to believe a contrary view.
Em: And now?
Trev: Still don't know. My father died a few years before we left Hyneria. I never saw the side of him my mother claimed to exist. Not in his last weeks, not even on his deathbed. For me, he was the same to the end. You know, I kept thinking, perhaps hoping, that with death in sight, and he knew he was dying, that there would be some sort of waking up, that there would be a moment when he would open up, talk to me, like an adult, share with me what was in his heart, tell me of his demons, perhaps offer some sort of apology for the many years of pain he put into my life. But, to the end, there was nothing. He died as he lived. Blind and unapologetic. Tone death to his influence on those around him.
Em: But he loved you, didn't he?
Trev: Perhaps.
Em: He had to. He had to love you.
Trev: One would think, but I don't know what that means. What does it mean for a person to love another and never show it, never express it. Is that love?
Em: Maybe he couldn't. Maybe he loved you and was simply incapable of showing it.
Trev: And I ask again, what is that? What does that mean? Am I suppose to imagine his love? Is that suppose to give me comfort? I might as well create my own father because I really don't see the difference.
Em: Baby, I don't have answers.
Trev: I know. You asked. Do you regret it?
Em: (grabs his head and turns in to hers) Not in a million years. (before he can respond, she kisses him)
Trev: (opens his eyes to hers)
Em: You know what?
Trev: What?
Em: I love you.
Trev: (eyes water)
Em: All of you.
Trev: (buries his head in her chest)
Em: (she wraps her arms around his head with her chin resting on his short hair)
9 comments:
Sigh of absolute bliss. Just cannot say it enough, what a great, great pleasure it is to follow this story. I read a chapter and I know again that I would walk a thousand miles to get to a computer if need ever were.
Such a flood of sweet warmth to see two people engage in this way, to cultivate a relationship where hearts can open, even a heart that has learned to remain closed learning that here is a safe environment. Beautiful opening, the physical touch, the cradling and the massage, the relaxation and release of tension and inhibition, touch first and words to follow. staring through the plate glass upon the unjudging cosmos winking wisdom as shadows of lace on their young faces. For sentences like these, you mastership as a writer has been shown.
The question is asked and the answer given, like a rush and it is upon the blind that she focuses quite rightly, the one that as she nudges him to continue, he begins circling ever closer to the whole truth. As he begins, and interestingly he lists caring in the initial answer, the influence that it had upon his life, that he had the father that he had, becomes more detailed. Of him sitting there, cradles in Em's warmth, of arms, of heart, as the words start to spill forth, as I have said so many times before, your writing has intonation, is so clear and easy to read that I cannot imagine that it is read very much different if different at all from how it is written. Masterful how it has been set up, gentle at first, a trickle and then more and more until there is a free flow of truth, of just how deeply his father's treatment of him was felt and more than that, not what was received but what was missing. The glimpse into what lay underneath when under the influence only making it more sad that father was never able to reach out to son. A barrier and not a case of non-existence. Quite rightly the question is prevalent, what does it mean to be loved and never feel it, what difference could it make to Trev, then as now, without evidence it is just belief and as he says, he may as well have made-believe something, someone else. Heart-breaking and heart-warming at the same time, for the unchangeable past and for the love that can be the bubble in which they are now. Letting go once again, believing, understanding which he does to some extent, great extent and accepting the great divide between them, that regardless of who he is, his father was who he was, and there is nothing that can be changed. May have to come back to this one. So much more to say, and so much to explain better. Love, love, love this chapter. These last two have been incredible!
Beautifully done!!!
Meant to say something too on the contrast in Trev's state from a time before when he was nestled in this manner by Mairi to now, how then his future seemed frighting to now where it seems to promise moments of great happiness. Nuf, off to read the above.
He died as he lived. Blind and unapologetic. Tone death to his influence on those around him.
These are powerful words. Well written chapter, Trée.
Deb, when you pull those words out like that, they seem more powerful than when I wrote them. I wish there was a mirror that when we looked into it we saw ourselves as we were, not as we imagine ourselves to be. I wonder if we would be strong enough to stomach such a look?
As always, thanks for the kind words. Much appreciated.
Sweetest, what can I say other than thank you. :-)
I think we all need such a mirror, but doubt most would dare take a look. Maybe with many follow-up therapy sessions. LOL
This is brilliant.
There are tears about to fall from my eyes, that I am holding back.
This hits way too close to my own life in so many ways.
Anything I say other than that it is simply great, will detract from the feeling it has welling within me.
Thank you Strumper. There was a time when I had those same tears. Perhaps one day, we will see a time when Trev has 'let go' the emotion that is still driving him or holding him. Okay, group hug. Your hands around the back of my head and my hands taking the measure of your, well, the soft yet firm shell of your oyster. :-D
Okay, I'm so down for the group hug.
DEFINITELY making me feel better...
Thank you.
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