What really happened--Part 3
Wednesday, Jan. 15, 2003, 12:05 p.m.

So, the previous two parts to this are: HERE What really happened--Part 1 and HERE What really happened--Part 2. This is part 3, and I have the feeling there will be at least one more part to it...I'm mostly writing for myself. Not that I don't appreciate your comments and input--and hence, try to make layout and links more satisfactory--but, really, it's about me. :) Anyway, back to the story...

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I found out later that when the police showed up, Nick was so scared that they were going to take him away that he ran to Larry. Weird... but I understood it, too. For all that we were scared of him... he was our protector, too, in a way. We knew no one else would be allowed to hurt us... twisted reasoning, I suppose, but...

It turns out that Liz’s mom called the police, as did Jolene and Joe. As a matter of fact, Liz’s mom had also called someone else and that someone else had also called the police because they’d received 4 phone calls from different people telling them about what had happened.

But I didn't find that out until later. It was 1 or 2 in the morning, before it was finished, before there was no more shouting, no more instructions to "not tell outsiders about our family business", no more demands for promises not to tell anyone anything... no mention was ever made of Larry having gone too far or anything being done about him raging like that. It was as if the whole incident that precipitated everything was ignored, buried under sand... and in burying it, it seemed as if any of the reasons prompting the calls were negated. The sad thing is, by the end of the evening, my parents and Larry had insisted so many times that I must have called the police to get them out there, that even I started to think that I had!

I finally went to bed. I think it was a Friday when everything happened because I didn't have to go to school the next day. It was, it was the Friday before Valentine's Day, my senior year. So I guess it would've been 1999. Not so very long ago, after all... The next day I was supposed to spend the night at Alicia's. The plan had been made long before, and my parents were so afraid of letting anyone know that anything was out of the ordinary, that they didn't dare not let me go. So I was dropped off at Alicia's work a little before she was supposed to be off. One look at my face, and Alicia knew something was up. She got off work as quickly as she could, and then we started heading for her house. I spilled my guts--which was a big deal at the time, given that I'd promised promised that I wouldn't tell anyone. I just didn't--and don't--break promises, but... something inside me understood that this promise was wrong , and that I hadn't really had a choice about making it. And Alicia told me that I didn't have to go back home. It was an astonishing thought. Not go back home? Wow... I mean, it sucked, and it was awful, but... not go back? What a crazy thought! And yet... the more I thought about not having to deal with it all, being able to leave it behind, the more attractive the thought became. And so...I decided that I would just stay with Alicia. When we got to her house, we sat down and talked with her mom, told her everything going on. She wasn't happy at being put in the middle, but said that I was welcome there and I would be safe. Alicia and I sat on her waterbed and started calling people. First my boyfriend (who tried to convince me to come stay with him *rolls eyes*), then a couple of my other friends. Somehow, someone called my mom. I don't know, don't remember how. It had something to do with Joe. A friend of his calling my parents to torment them at Joe's request. It doesn't really matter. See, I didn't have the courage to call home, myself, to tell them I wasn't going to come home. I remember thinking that, after all the shouting and recriminations and anger, my family must not really want me around or love me. I know it sounds dumb, but I honestly didn't think my parents would come to bring be back home. I didn't think Mom and Dad and Larry would really care whether or not I came back. It never occurred to me that they would come get me. The time came and went when we should have left to get me home on time. The butterflies started building in my stomach. We were watching Xena, Warrior Princess. Strange the goofy things you remember, huh? Someone knocked on the door, and I jumped, and knew. They'd come to get me and now I was really in for it. Oh, man, what did I do??? To try to make it better, I jumped up to run toward the door. Alicia told me to stay put, while her mom answered it. I sat down, trembling, listening to the conversation, to my mother crying, my father angry for only the third time I could remember (the second in as many days), shouting at Leta that they would call the police on her for kidnapping me. I'd like to say that the reason I came out was because I didn't want to see Leta get in trouble with the police... but the truth of the matter is that my mom called me. She told me that if I didn't get up there right now, it was only going to get worse. And there was a very large part of me that just wanted to crawl home, to take back my hasty actions, to erase it all and just...make it better. So, I started picking up my stuff, getting ready to go. Alicia was furious. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "You can't go back! Don't go with them! Don't let them win!" I just shrugged, knowing she wouldn't and couldn't understand that even while I feared and hated where I lived, I loved it and my family, too. Her situation was so similar, and yet...we reacted so differently. Her dad used to hit her, punch her in the stomach to wake her up. She loved her mom, wholeheartedly, and her mom would sometimes step in to stop it, othertimes say that Alicia was exagerating, imagining. She hated her dad, with all her heart. Still does, and whatever small impulses were there to love him, make him love her back, she ruthlessly squashed. She couldn't understand how I could love and hate Larry at the same time, how I could still want his approval and get upset when he wouldn't tell me he loved me. And I think, at least in part, that she was living vicariously through me striking out for independence. When I gave in, in a sense, so did she, and I think she felt like she had no hope of escaping, if I couldn't. Which is strange, because I always thought of her as the strong one. But I digress. Severely. :)

I couldn't answer her, didn't know what to tell her, so I just shook my head, and walked toward the stairs. "It's ok," I told Leta. "Look, I'm really sorry for all the trouble I've caused." She looked pretty angry, too, but moved aside to let me go.

I don't really remember much after that, stumbling to the car, the back seat, crying in the dark. More shouting and asking what I thought I was doing, how I could have done it. "Don't you know we were worried sick?" I didn't think telling them that I thought they'd be glad I was gone was a wise idea. And there was some part of me, while hating all the shouting and the trouble, still reveled in the fact that they did love me, did want me to be there. It was another long night. When we got home, we were in the living room again, but this time, there wasn't so much shouting, not so many recriminations. And then... A simple, heart-stopping question. "Do you want Larry to leave?" And my insides twisted into knots because I wanted to SCREAM for all the world to hear, "Yes! Yes, I want him GONE! Gone, away, never to have to deal with him again! Ever! Make it all STOP!" And yet... and yet... I was afraid. And... and... I still wanted him to be the fatherly person he was supposed to be. I wanted him to behave properly, but not to leave. And I knew what it would do to him, if I said yes. To someone already so hurt and bitter at women, I would only be making it worse, and he would spend the rest of his life alone, angry, and in pain. And there was a very large part of me that believed it didn't really matter what I said, because... he wouldn't EVER go away, it would always be like this... and that saying I wanted him gone would only get me into worse trouble. So I said no. I've never felt so helpless in my life. And the part of me wanting him gone so badly was RAGING at me for losing the opportunity. They actually asked what I wanted, and instead of really answering, I said what I thought they wanted to hear. And I wonder to myself sometimes, now, if my parents were using that as the only way they knew to get out... what if they really meant it when they asked if I wanted him to leave, what if they really would have sent him packing if I had just said "yes" instead of "no"... Not that I can change it now, but... I still can't help but wonder.

It wound down from there. I don't think I really heard anything else with the debate raging in my mind, wondering if it was too late to take back the "no" and knowing that it was. And knowing, even if it wasn't that I didn't have the courage to do it.

The next day was Valentines' Day, and I'd already had plans with Joe. I wonder, now, why they let me go. Then, all I could feel was this immense relief that I wouldn't have to stay home. Maybe... they needed the space too, to think, to deal, to not hate me. And stupid Joe asked me to marry him. All I could think was, You bastard! You waited until you knew I was vulnerable, and then you do this, knowing, if I say no, I'll lose you and the stability you represent for me, and if I say yes, then I'm trapped. I was so angry at him... but I didn't have the energy to be angry. I think this is one of those times God gave me the words, even though I didn't know Him then. "Joe, I haven't even graduated yet! Yes, I want out. I want not to have to deal with it anymore, but... we're too young. Wait at least until I've graduated, and then you can ask me again, ok?" I knew he wasn't happy with the answer, but...what could he do? Who knows, maybe I was doing him an injustice, and he just wanted to rescue me. But...I knew him, and I'd seen him pull things like that with me before. I went back home that night, and things went on... tense, strained, but... as if everyone wanted to pretend nothing was wrong, nothing had happened, and slowly over the next month or so, it started feeling that way, as if nothing had happened, except that now Nick was the good kid, and I wasn't. I wallowed in self-pity and rejoiced that Nick wasn't getting in as much trouble.

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Yeah, I think that's enough for one entry. We'll go onto part 4 with more of the story...I think I've lost what few devotees I actually had with all this maundering. Eh... too bad, but that's not what this is really all about. :)

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