Learning to Cry (27 page)

Cheryl still told Melissa what she could and couldn’t do and expected her to obey.  I admired the wishful thinking, but realistically, I knew it was futile. Melissa was on the road of adulthood. She wasn’t ready, but her journey had begun. It is like being a virgin, really. You might lose your virginity years before you are ready, but once it is gone there is no getting it back. It doesn’t mean you can’t have a long, fruitful life. You’re just exposed to things before you’re prepared to handle them.

You learn to crawl, to walk, to run

Spending your youth, focusing on fun

One day you awaken, you’re no longer a child

Alcohol and drugs, you love anything wild

You make a mistake, you fall way too fast

Your luck expires, it never could last

You find your life, suddenly cut short

The gavel falls, on your last day in court

Melissa

If you look over the edge of the cliff what do you see? You might never know unless you actually stand with your toes so close you can barely keep your balance. The same could be said for jumping off the very edge over which you peer. Unless you take the plunge, you won’t know what it’s like to free fall to the surface below. Some people tell you how to live your life. But how can they know what your life is if they haven’t lived it themselves? How many people go through life without passion?

Melissa stayed the next few days with her mother. She committed herself to following the rules, but the rules eluded her. She wanted to be good, but being good was relative to the opinion of the person in charge. It was like grasping the air and never catching anything as your fingers clasped incessantly. The futility of life can sometimes be the very definition of what life is supposed to be. She sat in her room, cross-legged, and looked at the ceiling until her head hurt. Her head always ached. She now accepted this as a natural occurrence.

If you open your curtains in the middle of the day an invasion of sunlight will infiltrate your room, pushing out the black darkness within. If you flip the light switch, your room will illuminate with a luminescent manmade glow. Up is up, down is down, the natural laws of life are what govern our very existence. That is just the way things are meant to be. It cannot be any other way. Why did Scott continually talk to her when she knew that Scott did not actually exist? It seemed to contradict the very laws which governed our frail existence.

As Melissa reflected back on her childhood she remembered sitting on one end of a teeter-totter. The fact that such a thing exists confirms the simplicity of youth and how the young can be entertained by the smallest of things. Up and down, up and down, over and over again. She remembered playing on the playground, sitting with another child, so small and so content to do nothing more than bounce continually. No wonder today’s youths fall behind the rest of the world academically. We challenge our children with three hours of playtime and, at most, three to four hours of studies. We will be eclipsed before the century is out as a world power.

Melissa endured her time with her mother. She went through the motions until she could head back to her father’s house. She pinned her hopes on the potential that he might save her. Scott was stronger and more forceful. She attempted to hold off his suggestions, but she felt weak. She was only a girl in the end. She was now 15 years old, but she was still not an adult. If she admitted this she actually felt better. The alternatives were more than she could handle.

Everyone told her to be thankful she was not getting into trouble as an adult. Maybe she should push the envelope as much as possible why she was still a child. Maybe Scott was right. Maybe his suggestions were the correct route to go after all. What did she know? She was only 15. She wondered how old Scott was and started to ask him. She, then, realized how stupid this was and cried. Are you insane if you define your own insanity? If you make the diagnosis, how can the diagnosis be true?

Finally, it was time to head back over to her dad’s house, and it couldn’t have come too soon. Melissa’s head spun, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold on to reality. Her father accepted her, but he was condescending at the same time. Melissa was tired of being judged, and her father always lectured her. He could turn a simple question into a lifelong lesson. Did there have to be a lesson learned in asking if she could tune the radio to a different station? Can’t some things in life just be simple?

Karen lived with her father now. As with all things, there is a double edge. Melissa loved seeing her father happy, but she had grown so accustomed to his unhappiness that it was difficult to make the transition. Their continuous laughter was more annoying than anything. Still, Karen calmed the house, and her presence was welcomed. Jesus, life changed faster than her mind could keep up. Her head felt like it was perpetually spinning in a violent vortex of obscurity.

Melissa asked her dad and Karen if her friend Doreen could sleep over.  Her dad and Karen both liked Doreen. Sometimes Melissa felt they liked Doreen more than they liked her. It wasn’t that Doreen was perfect, but she was very good at playing the parental card. She schmoozed with the best of them, and her dad ate it up like a little bluegill biting the worm on the end of a hook. Maybe parents really were too gullible for words, or maybe they just wanted so badly to believe in their children they would fall for anything.

Melissa called Doreen the second she arrived, and after getting her dad’s permission, set up the sleep over. It had been months since she had seen Doreen, and it would be nice to hang out with her, even if it was at her dad’s house. She just needed to feel like a kid again. The pressure in her head was constant, and her ability to contain it was slipping. Scott’s relentless barrage tightened the vice around her head. She felt like a torture victim during war. Doreen made it over to the house in a few hours. Her elderly father dropped her off as he so often did and never even managed to come to the door. The act of meeting and greeting parents seems to be a lost art. How many people actually know who their children are hanging out with? Jesus, do you not care at all who or what your kids might be exposed to? With all of the insanity permeating our society it seems that parents should be more concerned instead of more casual about other households. Still, he didn’t really seem to care.

Doreen was socially adept and cordially said hello to everyone before she and Melissa entered the solitude of Melissa’s waiting bedroom. They closed the door and Melissa instantly felt more at ease. Scott still mumbled, but he stayed in the background. She focused completely on Doreen and their idle chatter. This guy was now with this girl and that girl was now with this guy and etc., etc. There is nothing more fulfilling than catching up on the gossip of the local cliques.

The dinner bell rang quickly, and the family requirements kicked in. Melissa’s dad insisted everyone ate dinner together. At her mom’s house, she couldn’t remember the last time they had even sat at a table. The conflicting priorities were sometimes more than she could handle. Conversation focused on Doreen since she was a guest who hadn’t been around for a few months. Melissa was just happy that she could blend into the background for once. They ate, cleaned the dishes, and then headed back to her bedroom. It wasn’t long before Melissa and Doreen heard the house settle down into a calm slumber.

The plan was simple. They wouldn’t sneak out or even attempt to sneak out. Melissa always had an extremely difficult time sneaking out of her dad’s house. The last time she attempted it, she had ran into Karen sleeping on the couch. Apparently Karen wasn’t always able to sleep with her snoring father, so she meandered her way to the sofa on some evenings and spent the entire night there. Melissa had been shocked one night when she had tip-toed to the front door and Karen’s head popped up, and she asked Melissa what was going on. Melissa had been so freaked out she couldn’t even answer. She just slowly walked back to her room.

So, the girls planned to grab the vodka from the kitchen cabinet, as well as a couple of shot glasses and drink away in her bedroom. Her dad always said he would prefer they try things at home versus getting in trouble somewhere else.  In a way, if they drank in her bedroom, it would be like following his rules. If Melissa was truthful, Scott actually formulated the plan. Melissa just relayed it to Doreen who thought it was a fantastic idea. So, away they went.

At 9:30 p.m. Melissa’s little sisters were in bed, and her father and Karen had already closed their door. Hopefully, Melissa would not hear them making love again. Her room was right next door to theirs, and she was often grossed out by the noises she heard coming through the walls of her dad’s bedroom.

She and Doreen went into the kitchen, got the bottle of vodka, and picked up the shot glasses. They snagged some chips and headed back to Melissa’s room for some fun. They turned on the TV and started drinking. At 15 years old, it doesn’t make sense that you can’t have fun without alcohol, but alcohol always seems to be the focus of everyone’s attention. So they drank a few shots, followed them up with some soda and before they knew it they were feeling good.

The TV got louder, Doreen at one point fell off the bed, and the next thing they knew at 11 p.m. her father banged on the door for them to quiet down. Both laughed, and they agreed to be quiet. But they followed their feeble responses with nonstop giggles. At least Scott was out of the picture for the time being.

They decided to watch a movie and that meant venturing out to the living room. They grabbed their supplies, banged their way to the couches, flopped down and cranked up the TV. That was when Doreen somehow dropped the bottle of vodka on the floor. Since the bottle was closed, there wasn’t a mess, but it made a pretty loud bang upon impact. They heard the door open. They threw the bottle under the coffee table and jumped on the couch, knocking a can of coke on the floor. They laughed as the liquid formed a pool of brown evidence three feet from their toes.

Father

I finally had enough. Jesus Christ, what was it with this girl? She’s been gone for ages, and as soon as she arrived back, she had the entire house up all night. I wanted to be patient with her, I wanted to give her some room, but what the hell was wrong with her? Did everyone in the house have to cater to her just because we were all so afraid she might get pissed off? It didn’t make any sense. I loved her so much, but at the same time there were simple rules that seemed logical to follow.

As I lay in bed, I wondered where she got her inability to deal with reality. I couldn’t even watch TV in my own house when this girl was around. I no longer seemed to have any choices at all. She constantly turned my car radio to rap or some pop star that I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t drive with the sun roof open without hearing the constant wailing of her discontent. The TV was all but off limits for me. I was reduced to asking her to please choose something else when I couldn’t stand what was on. But even that was never my choice. It had come down to me voicing my concern over what I abhorred the most.

Now I lay in bed, and I was tired. Karen asked me how long we had to put up with the noise. Even she agreed that Melissa had not been back in the house long enough to call it home. What the hell was wrong with this girl? Finally, when I heard the loud explosion of something falling, I’d had enough. I threw open the door, pulled on a T-shirt, and stormed out to the living room. Even the most patient of parents has a point of finality.

As pissed off as I was, I still bit my tongue and simply said, “Can you girls please keep it down? We are trying to sleep in the other room.”

That was when I saw the Coke spilled on the floor. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew something was off-center. I wonder if that is what being a detective is about. You see a crime scene. You know something doesn’t look right, but you can’t quite put your finger on it immediately. You just keep looking and staring until it finally clicks.

I asked them, in a rather gruff voice, why the hell they hadn’t cleaned up the Coke as I saw it continuing to ooze out of the container. Maybe that was the key. It had just happened. How they were lying on the couch was odd, as well though. It wasn’t even a couch really. It, by definition, was a love seat, and they were almost lying on top of each other. It was as if they had just jumped there when they heard me coming down the hall. Maybe they spilled the Coke when they heard me by jumping on the couch.

As I picked up the can I noticed shot glasses on the coffee table. Again, it seemed odd but kids don’t always make sense. Maybe they were drinking the Coke out of shot glasses for the fun of it. Even though kids believe their parents are constantly out to get them, I really think that most parents want to believe in their children. They want to feel like their kids are good, tell the truth, and are always headed down a good path.

I asked them why they had shot glasses on the coffee table. Suddenly, something drew my eyes below. As with all cases there comes a point in time when the evidence points in one direction, and it is so overwhelming you can no longer deny the truth. The bottle of vodka lying all alone under the table did not just happen to find its way there by itself. As the scene became instantly clear, my emotions ignited, and I couldn’t contain them. They burst forth.

I screamed at both of them to get their asses off the couch and clean up the spilled Coke. It seemed to make sense that they could clean up their mess. As Doreen went to grab some towels, I laid into Melissa, asking her what the hell she thought she was doing? Was she so stupid as to drink right under my nose? They were both 15 years old. Did they not have any common sense at all? Sadly, she looked at me with a confused smirk on her face that told me everything I needed to know.

No, she didn’t have any clue. She probably wasn’t even sure that she had done anything wrong. Maybe it was at that moment I realized she had lost any ability to understand what her life was about and where she was headed. It was as if somebody had flipped on one of those “Where Are They Now?” TV shows, and I saw my daughter 20 years in the future.

She had three kids, never got a college degree, was married to a guy who couldn’t hold down a job, and they all lived in a two bedroom trailer in the middle of Arkansas. Nothing against Arkansas, but my daughter fell several notches in the span of five minutes. As a parent you always have hope that your children will figure it out. You always keep a small sliver in the back of your mind of higher aspirations. I think that was the night Melissa managed to extinguish those in my mind. She was lost. I just had to admit that to myself and lower my expectations for her, drastically.

Karen got out of bed, as well, and instead of her normal calming influence, she yelled at Melissa right along with me. I think Melissa’s bold insanity shocked her.  There were no longer any rules that mattered to her. She was going to do whatever she felt like, and screw anyone who possibly stood in her way.