Chapter 9 - Part 2

“Did you stop her car half-way up the tracks? Do you need to let her go so that she can grow? And on that same day, would it have been best to let your husband grow and fix his own mistakes? What I’m asking is, does it seem that perhaps rescuing is not actually a good thing to do at all?”


Watching her then reminded me of a time when I was in junior high school. The school year had barely started and Mom had taken me shopping for new school clothes. I was starting to feel too old to go shopping with my mother, but she insisted. I was also starting to feel like we had very different opinions on what clothes I should wear.

“I hate that shirt, Mom!” I insisted. “That would make me look like a geek!”

“It would not make you look like a geek,” Mom remonstrated. “You would look like a very sophisticated, intelligent young man who knows where he’s going and what he wants.”

I squinted at the shirt suspiciously. It sure didn’t look like it said that to me.

“Trust me,” Mom said and bought the shirt. I scowled at her but what was I going to do? It was her money.

It was two weeks into the school year and I still hadn’t worn that shirt. It still said geek to me even though I checked it each morning to see if it said, “sophisticated and intelligent” yet. Finally, my mom said, “Tommy, I haven’t seen you wear that new shirt that I bought for you. I don’t want to see my money go to waste.”

I went to my closet and stared at that shirt for a long time, but I finally put it on. I made it through school alright until recess. Recess in junior high is so lame anyway. You’re too old for playground equipment so you really just walk around and try to avoid the people who will be mean to you or who you imagine would be mean to you if you gave them the chance. I wasn’t too successful at that recess. I was talking to my friend, Mark, and looking down at the blacktop while I kicked a rock, so I didn’t see the two older guys coming toward us and I bumped into one of them.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Sorry,” the big guy mimicked me. Then they both laughed and kept walking but I heard him say to his friend, “What a geek! Did you see his shirt?”

My face flamed red. I was right. I knew it. It was a geek shirt. I don’t know how I made it through the rest of the day. I felt like I was wearing something from the sewer. I couldn’t stand the feel of the shirt against my skin. I tried to keep my eyes from seeing the pattern of it’s cloth. I avoided all mirrors like the plague.

I had myself so worked up that by the time I got home, I let my mom have it. “I thought you said this shirt said, ‘intelligent and sophisticated!’ Well, I have news for you, Mom. You know nothing about junior high! NOTHING! Maybe you don’t know anything about anything! This is a geek shirt! You made me a geek today! I hope you feel good about that!”

Mom moved toward me to put an arm around my shoulder, to give me comfort or sympathy or something, but I would have none of it. It was her fault. What did I care if I made her suffer? Hadn’t she made me suffer today? I ran out of the kitchen and into my room and slammed the door.

I was determined that I wouldn’t come out. I’d only ever come out for school and I’d come home and go back to my room. I planned my whole life of complete alienation from my entire family. It passed the time until my dad came home. That was what blew my resolve to stay in my room.

Dad came in from work slamming doors.

I heard my mom ask, “What’s the matter, dear?”

“Like you don’t know!” my Dad threw back at her. “You insist on ironing all my shirts for work. Shusterman’s wife takes his to get professionally done. GUESS who looks nicer at work. GUESS who gets invited into the bosses’ office today to explain our project even though I’ve done most of the work and while he’s there they happen to just casually inquire as to where he gets his shirts done!”

I had walked softly to the top of the stairs to listen. There was some more banging and slamming of things. “I’m getting IGNORED at work because of my stupid shirts! The stupid shirts that you have to iron yourself!”

My mom said something I didn’t catch. Then I heard Dad say, “I don’t care if you’ve made dinner. I’m going to my room.”

I hurried back to my room before Dad saw me. He went to his room and slammed the door. It was uncanny. I could almost tell you exactly what he was thinking now that he’d gone there. Hadn’t I been just the exact same tyrant to my mother only scant hours before?

Once when I was a kid, my best friend had a birthday party and his parents recorded it on their movie camera. Later, we all watched it together. Everybody had laughed and enjoyed it, but I looked on in shock. Watching myself was almost painful! I was obnoxious and bossy. I would never have chosen myself to be my own friend. I had never really known what I was like until I saw myself outside of myself.

I had another one of those moments that day after my geek day in junior high school. I saw myself in my dad – almost exactly. I was not going to stay that way. I went downstairs right away and into the kitchen and confronted my mom.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “Shirts aren’t your fault.” Did I mean me or did I mean Dad? Somehow, I was trying to apologize for both of us.

Mom nodded with tears in her eyes. It was my turn to put my arm around her. “Can I help with dinner?” I asked.

I wondered if Ken knew about shirts and where fault really belonged.

Mom was looking at Ken now and I could tell she was thinking hard about what he had said. I was surprised. It seemed to me that mom was always the one getting hurt – I didn’t think she did anything wrong. I thought Dad was the one always making us miserable and in particular her. It still seemed that way to me. It was weird to see my mom targeted for doing something wrong. Even if she did these things Ken was talking about, it didn’t seem like it hurt us as much as the stuff Dad did. Maybe even the little things could help our family get better, though. That thought was comforting. Maybe I would stick with that.

Ken turned away from Mom now – to let her think I supposed.

Then Ken turned to Dad, “Did I take some of your happiness away by not letting you finish the ride?”

“Yeah. It would have been fun,” Dad agreed. He seemed a little less defensive since Ken had been targeting mom.

“Do you think it’s fun to grow and learn new things?”

“Yes. I think that is a great part of life,” Dad agreed again.

“Do you think people who are growing and learning new things are happier than those who are not?”

“Yeah, I guess they are.”

“For instance, do you think your wife was happier when she was taking singing lessons?”

Now Dad stopped and Mom froze. We all froze. Mom’s singing was something we did not talk about. It was too tender of a subject.

“Again,” Ken said, “we come back to the question, ‘Do you want your wife to be happy and do you think your relationship is better when she is happy?”

Ken turned back to all of us. “So, you need to support each other in your desires to grow. If that is true, then shouldn’t you also make sure you watch for opportunities to grow in your relationships as well?

“Walks?” Ken asked looking at Mom again. “And how about carnival rides?” he asked looking at Dad and then looking meaningfully toward me.

Suddenly I remembered a time when Dad and I had gone to the carnival together. He had dared me to ride in the last car on the big roller coaster ride. Then I had dared him to ride in the first. Then he dared me to go on the ride and leave my hands in the air the entire time. In all, we ended up going on that one ride ten times together. It had gotten dark by the time we were done and the many-colored lights flashed on the ride and swirled together by the time we were done. I can even remember the smell – popcorn – there were loads of it smashed into the concrete all around us.

I smiled remembering it. That was one of the best nights of my life. A part of me ached when I thought of how we didn’t do that anymore. Yeah, our ride had definitely gotten stuck half-way up the roller coaster of our relationship. I looked at my dad and my heart pulled so hard that it hurt. I so wanted the promise that we could grow and enjoy the whole ride.