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.

Chapter 9 - Part 1

Chapter 9 – Tom

We sat in the sudden stillness. I think we were in a little bit of shock. My mind had already raced ahead to the thrilling descent and the rush of the loop-de-loop, but now I was jolted to find myself back at the beginning with no hope of ever getting to those thrills I had anticipated unless the ride started again.

“Do you think if we just wait, it will start again?” I ventured hopefully.

Dad looked as unprepared for this turn of events as I felt. “I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose we could wait.”

“Yes! Let’s wait!” Brittney said. “I’m sure it will start again in just a few minutes!”

So, we sat. We didn’t want Mom to worry so we waved down at her to let her know we were all right. Still, nothing happened.

“I think we had better climb down kids,” Dad finally said. “I don’t think this ride is going anywhere.”

There was an emergency release button for the lap bars and after searching around for a minute, we were able to find it and set ourselves free. Brittney got up on her knees to look back down the track and immediately sat back down. She gripped the lap bar and tried to put it back on. It wouldn’t latch anymore, though, now that it had been released.

“It’s okay, Britt,” I tried to comfort her. “We’ll all go down together. I’ll help make sure you don’t fall.” Brittney looked at me, searching my eyes. I couldn’t believe it, but I recognized that look in her eyes – she didn’t believe me! But, I knew why I recognized that look. I had seen it before.

It hurt me when I saw it before and it hurt me now to see it again. It was a Saturday and I needed to go to the library to get some information for a report that was due in school. I could’ve used the internet at home but it was so slow that it took me forever. The one at the library was infinitely better. I was trying to hurry because I wanted to meet up with my friends to see a movie later.

Brittney had stopped me in the hall, “Tom!” she hollered, “Can you please drive me to Shelby’s house?”

“What for?” I had demanded, irritated that she was slowing me down.

“It’s her birthday today!” Brittney wailed. “Mom forgot and she already promised you the car and Dad has already gone to meet with Mr. Boscoe on their project. Please, Tommy?? Shelby always has the best parties and everyone I know is going!”

“What time is it at?” I growled.

“Not until four!” she said practically jumping up and down. I could see the hope bursting in her eyes.

“All right,” I had promised. “I have to go to the library but I’ll come back and get you and take you to Shelby’s.”

“Thank you, Tommy! Thank you!”

I didn’t, though. I forgot. Actually, I remembered on the way to the movie theatre. I had decided that I’d go straight from the library to the theatre so I wouldn’t be late, but on the way there, I remembered Brittney. If I had turned back then, though, I would’ve missed the movie – so I kept on driving.

I felt bad, though. I really did! But, I thought that she could get a ride with one of her friends and it would probably turn out fine. Why should I ruin my time with my friends if she already had it worked out? I convinced myself that she did have it worked out and tried to put it out of my mind.

I got home late that night. My mom was finishing up in the kitchen and all she said to me was, “I can’t believe that you would do that to your sister,” and she turned and left the room.

“What?” I called after her and went to Brittney’s room to find out what had happened.

“Britt!” I called, opening the door. “Did you go to your party?”

Brittney’s eyes were red. It looked like she had been crying. My heart twisted inside of me. “You know that I didn’t!” she yelled back at me.

“Why didn’t you call one of your friends? You said everyone was going!”

“Why would I call one of my friends?” she demanded. “I asked you to take me and you said you would.”

I felt like a bug. I felt so small and low and I saw in her pain, pain that I had felt, too, in my life. It wasn’t just pain from missing out on the fun that all her friends had without her, although that can be staggering. It was the pain of betrayal. I had betrayed her. She didn’t know if she could trust me anymore. How could I do to her what I hated having done to me?

Now here she was looking at me with those same eyes. This wasn’t the same thing at all! I wasn’t going to be away from her, there was no way I would forget about my commitment to not let her fall. I suppose you can’t afford to drain away a person’s trust, because when you really need it, you might find that you haven’t built up any kind of a store at all.

“Come on, Brittney,” Dad tried. “I’ll help you. We’ll get down just fine.”

“No!” Brittney said shaking her head violently and refusing to look at either of us. “I’m staying right here!”

“Brittney,” my dad said soothingly, trying to pry her fingers from the bar, “just trust me.”

“No!” Brittney shouted and she wrapped both of her arms around the lap bar and buried her head in her arms.

Dad looked at me, bewildered. I just looked back at him and shrugged. I didn’t know what to do.

“There’s nothing else we can do, Brittney,” Dad said. “We have to either climb down or stay here forever! We’ll have to sleep here. There’s no blankets!”

“Yeah!” I said, chiming in, “and we’d have nothing to eat! What will we do when we get hungry?”

Brittney slowly brought her head up.

“You’d hate to miss lunch, wouldn’t you Britt?” Dad asked. “There’s nothing up here, but down on the ground we could find pizza again – maybe even cotton candy!”

Brittney eyed him carefully. “Pink?” she asked.

Dad nodded gratefully. “Yes. Definitely pink. It’s the best kind after all, isn’t it?”

“Yep!” Brittney agreed.

“So, will you let Tommy and I get you down from here?”

“One thing,” Brittney said.

“Name it.”

“I don’t want pizza. I want Runzas!” Then she grinned.

Dad and I laughed.

It wasn’t really hard to climb down after that. We had sat in the front car so we climbed back from car to car until we reached the end car. From there we climbed onto the track, which had a rubber traction mat that helped grab the cars and push them upward. It was grippy enough that there was no real danger of us slipping. We walked the rest of the way down. Brittney ran into Mom’s waiting arms.

“I want you to come next time!” Brittney said into Mom’s shoulder.

Hopefully there wouldn’t be a next time, but if there were, hopefully Dad and I both would be a little bit better in our Integrity so that Brittney would have some more trust stored up in us.

Just then we saw Ken walking toward us. “Hey!” Dad called. “What’s wrong with your roller coaster?”

“What do you think is wrong with it?” Ken asked.

“Well, it stopped halfway up the first hill. It stopped before it had practically even begun!”

“Ahh,” Ken said. “Not as much fun that way?”

“No!” I joined in. “That’s not fun at all! Look at all those hills and that loop! We wanted to do all the fun stuff that ride is supposed to be able to do!”

“Hmmm,” Ken said. “So you think it would have been better to keep climbing?”

“Definitely!” I said.

“It’s hard for the machines, you know,” Ken said. “That big hill takes the most machines and fuel.”

“It’s be worth it, though,” said my dad softly looking with admiration at the big roller coaster.

“How about you, Sam?” Ken asked. “Are there any big hills in your life that would be worth climbing? We all need to keep growing, don’t you think? We all want to enjoy good things but they all have big hills first, have you noticed?”

“Brittney,” Ken said turning suddenly to her and not waiting for an answer from Dad, “did you want to learn to walk home from school on your own?”

Anger flared up in me. Climbing down from the roller coaster had scared her enough for today, Ken didn’t need to scare her more by reminding her of that day when she had tried to walk home herself. My anger almost immediately turned to bafflement, though as I saw her eyes grow wide and her lips tremble, but her head nodded yes.

And then I was surprised that I hadn’t thought of that sooner. Of course, Brittney still wanted to learn to walk home from school on her own. Of course, she would feel bad about herself if she felt like she couldn’t manage something like that on her own. Of course her self-esteem would rise if she figured it out and did it on her own. I felt disappointment in myself again. That seemed to be happening a lot at this carnival. I should have helped her out. I could have as her big brother that her mom and dad could not.

I was surprised then when Ken turned to Mom instead of toward me, “Sonya, have you stopped this little girl’s car so that she can’t grow and enjoy the ride ahead?”

My mom’s eyes filled with pain, but I could see she understood. “I was only trying to keep her safe,” mom whispered.

“Like at the ball game,” Ken continued, “when you took her home?”

“She was hurt!” mom cried out in defiance.

“What hurts more – to get hit by a baseball or to not ever play baseball with your dad and your brother?”

My mom looked down. I couldn’t tell if she was accepting his words or trying to block them out.

“Did you stop her car half-way up the tracks? Do you need to let her go so that she can grow?”

Chapter 8 - Part 2

We passed the blanket booth where we had spent the night and we passed the Rotary booth selling scones. Sonya gripped my arm. I guess she didn’t like the smell so much anymore. We hurried past. We found Tommy studying some carvings in a booth off to the side. The artist had taken a piece of wood, left the bottom untouched and followed the grain of the wood to decide whether he would make half a man or an eagle or a deer. The effect was to create the illusion that the living thing was emerging from the inanimate object. I felt that way much about my heart right now.

“Aren’t they wonderful?” Sonya asked Tommy. “I bet you could do that if you tried!”

Tom’s face twisted in self-deprecation, “No! I couldn’t do that. I was just admiring them. I like how they look – that’s all.”

“I like how they look, too,” she said, “and I bet you could do it.”

I thought they looked like a monumental waste of time. At any other time I probably would have said so. But I wasn’t ready to stop being gentle to Sonya right now.

A couple of years back I hit my hand against the wall. I was in a rage against Sonya for something she hadn’t done for me. I broke several of the small bones in my hand. The doctor said he couldn’t do much for me. He’d immobilize it and then I’d just have to treat it gently until it healed. Something about today reminded me of breaking my hand. Sometimes I guess relationships are the same way. You just have to treat them gently until they are healed – maybe even after that too.

Sonya doesn’t usually make breakfast. She always makes dinner. I think it’s important for dinner to be provided for the family. I let Sonya know that early in our relationship. Breakfast, though, is different. We all usually eat at different times. Tom’s school, the high school, starts earlier than the elementary school for Brittney does. The kids usually prefer cold cereal, anyway, so it’s not a big deal, I don’t think.

Sonya does sometimes eat breakfast with me, though, if she’s not busy helping Tom and Brittney get off to school. If she’s making herself some eggs, she’ll offer to make me some – that sort of thing. Like I said, it’s not a big deal.

One week, though, I was having a really rough week at work. Word had come down through management that new layoffs would be made at the end of the week. I am no stranger to layoffs, but I still hate them, and right then would have been a particularly hard time to be laid off because our savings were low from having to fix the transmission on the car and having just gotten through Christmas. I could feel the anxiety eating away at me. On top of that, I had to report to management that week on what our group had accomplished thus far and our projected finish dates for the completed project. The stress was unbelievable. I’ve never felt so torn-up.

So, during that week I got this idea in my head, that because the week was so tough for me, that Sonya should do things to make it easier. After all, didn’t this affect all of us? Shouldn’t she do her part? I decided that for that week – just that week – Sonya should think to make breakfast for me. If she really loved me, she would think of that and make me breakfast just to show that she cared.

I made my own breakfast that first morning, watching Sonya carefully to see if she would stop me and offer to make the breakfast herself. She didn’t. She didn’t the next day either. On the third day, I waited and waited, and finally crashed the pans and slammed boxes as I made it myself. You’d think she’d get it then. She didn’t. The fourth day I resolved to not eat at all unless she cooked for me. I sat and stared at her while she ate. “Are you not hungry this morning, Sam?” she had asked me.

On the last day of the week, I blew up at her and told her that she knew my week had been hard and that she should have thought to make me breakfast and that now I knew she didn’t care about me. I stopped talking to her after that.

That was horrible, too, because it ended up that I didn’t get laid off, and the report to management was brilliant and went off without a hitch. Instead of being able to come home and celebrate, though, I couldn’t even tell Sonya about it. In fact, I couldn’t even be happy because I had already decided to be mad at Sonya. I couldn’t talk to her for at least a week.

I kept my resolve, and didn’t talk to Sonya for a week. I guess that is what Ken was talking about when he said I shouldn’t make up artificial consequences. I think I wouldn’t mind not doing that anymore. It is pretty miserable. I missed out not talking with Sonya and not sharing something great that happened at work. I also missed out on some great breakfasts. Sonya made me breakfast everyday the next week and I left for work without ever touching it. I guess that just proves two things. One, I’m a master at artificial consequences -- and two, I’m hurting myself every time I create a new one.

Brittney came over and took my hand. “Did you see that big roller coaster over there, Daddy? Can we go on it?”

I looked down at Britt. “I thought you didn’t like roller coasters, Brittney.”

“I like them if you’re with me!” she cried.

I smiled. I would have laughed if my heart had been lighter. I looked over toward where Brittney had pointed. There definitely was a big roller coaster in the park. The steel track rose above the other attractions and came down a steep hill before going through a loop and up more big hills.

I whistled. “That is a big roller coaster,” I said.

“It’s way better than any of the rides that come to our town’s carnival,” Tom said in envy from my shoulder.

I had to agree. In fact, it looked way too big to be part of a traveling carnival. I wondered when I would stop expecting things to be normal. After all, who said it was a traveling carnival? For all we knew, Ken had it all set up in his backyard.

“Well, let’s go see it,” I said to Brittney. “If that’s okay with Mom,” I added hastily trying to remember this new lesson I had learned.

It was okay with Mom and we headed back out from the craft booths and past the teacups and past the bumper cars, which I eyed speculatively, trying to remember what Ken had said after that ride yesterday. We reached the bottom of the roller coaster and looked up. The first climb was very, very high. That made me excited in spite of myself.

I looked down at Brittney, “Are you sure you want to go on that thing? It looks pretty scary!”

Brittney wrapped both her arms around one of mine. “I’ll hold on to you!” she said.

“Alright then, I guess we’re going on the roller coaster!”

“YEA!” Brittney cried.

“Unless . . .” I paused searching out Sonya’s still pale face, “Unless you don’t want to Sonya. I can go with the kids.”

Relief washed over Sonya’s face. Guilt twisted my insides. Was I really such a dictator? “I think I will just watch, if that’s okay with you,” Sonya said.

“That’ll be fine,” I tried to assure her. I hoped she believed me.

“What do you say, Tom? You coming with us?”

Tom let out a loud whoop and headed for the turnstile. I turned to Britt. “I guess he’s coming,” I said. She jumped up and down and started pulling me toward the entrance.

We went through the turnstile. As we did so, I saw that the sign said, “Commitment to GROWTH: The Roller Coaster Ride.” I groaned inwardly. That must mean another lesson. Didn’t this carnival have any regular rides?

Brittney and Tom were already in cars and strapped in. Brittney was motioning me toward the place next to her. “You have to keep me safe!” she said as she snuggled into me waiting for the ride to start. I had to keep her safe. I had to keep everybody safe – Sonya and Tommy, too.

A recorded voice came over the loud system saying to keep our hands and feet inside the car at all times and that the bars in front of us would lower and lock into place as the ride started, yada yada yada. Yeah, yeah, we’d heard it all before. Then the cars lurched forward and we were on our way.

We headed straight for the first immense hill. The cars slowed as traction grabbed them and started pulling us upward, clack, clack, clack, clack. Then there was a loud clack and a jerk and the cars froze in place. They wouldn’t go any farther upward.

I looked around us. We couldn’t be more than half-way to the top and we were stuck. Wow. A lot of fun this ride was going to be. So much for what seemed like the terrific promise of a great time. It was the story of my life I thought disgruntled and then started looking around for a way back to the ground.

Chapter 8 - Part 1

Chapter 8 – Sam

When I was a kid, Clyde threw up on me once. I was so grossed out that I beat him up for it. I had started my first year of little kid Pop Warner football just the week before. When Mom found out that I had beat up Clyde she made me quit football. I wasn’t allowed to play for the rest of the year. I didn’t regret it, though. Clyde deserved it.

Now I had vomit all over me again – much worse than it had ever been with Clyde -- and I felt the rage boiling inside of me. I stomped off the ride to get away from Sonya. I had never hit Sonya. It was a low-down thing to hit your wife. I knew that. I wasn’t ever going to disgrace myself that way. Still, there were times when I had to get away. This was one of them.

There was a bathroom right next to the Teacups ride with outdoor sinks. I flipped on the water and started rinsing myself off as best I could. I stripped off my shirt and soaked it completely in the running water. I managed to get all the vomit off eventually, but now it was sopping wet – and it still stank. I hit the side of the sink and turned around to find Ken standing there offering me a clean shirt.

That stopped me cold in my tracks. Why was that man always popping up out of nowhere? I looked at the offered shirt and at the stinky wet one in my hand. I growled then threw down the old shirt and accepted the clean one in Ken’s hands. I struggled into it while Ken asked, “How are you all? Have you had a nice morning?”

“Ha!” I barked. “Does this look like a nice morning?”

Sonya had worked her way carefully from teacup to teacup and was now sitting queasily on a bench outside the teacup gate. She had her eyes closed and seemed to be concentrating on taking deep breaths. She still looked a little green.

“Why have you had a bad morning, Sam?” Ken asked.

“I just got thrown-up on! Can’t you see?”

“Why did Sonya throw up on you?”

“Because she was sick, I guess! I don’t know -- you tell me!”

“Do you think the ride made her sick?” Ken asked.

I stopped. Was he going to blame all this on me? “It is not my fault that she is sick!” I hollered.

“Remember when we talked about responsibility, Sam?” Ken asked quietly so the others couldn’t hear.
I looked at him for a long minute, two sides warring inside of me. Taking responsibility was what a fool did. But, taking responsibility was good. I had felt good when we talked about it. Taking responsibility made me feel like I could solve the problems that seemed to drop from the sky.

“Yes,” I finally said. “ I think the ride made her sick, but she didn’t have to go on the ride. She could have told me.”

“You mean, like how she told you she wanted to keep the blanket this morning? You would have listened to her and listened to what she wanted and needed and then acted so that her decisions were taken into consideration and honored?”

I scowled at Ken again. “Come on, man. Would you just get to the point? You don’t seem to like anything that I do.”

“Do you like it when your wife is happy?”

What was this? He seemed to be changing directions completely! “Of course I like it when my wife is happy.”

“I want you to really think about it,” Ken said. “Think about how you feel when your wife is unhappy -- and how you feel when she is glad. Does it affect your relationship?”

I didn’t want to, but I remembered a day with blinding force. I remembered a day when Sonya and I had gone for a walk. I remember marveling that she was so happy. She hadn’t been happy for a long time and I don’t know if there was even a reason for her to be especially happy that day – she just was. She had laughed and chatted with me and shown me the flowers that were starting to grow along the road. She told me some funny things the kids had done and she made me laugh. That was actually one of my favorite memories. Yes, I liked it when Sonya was happy. That was how I loved her best of all.

“Do you think anyone can be happy when their choices are being made by other people?”

“Well,” I stuttered, “yeah. I think sometimes other people know better.”

“Can another person really know the needs of another? Might there not always be some little buried desire known only to the person himself – or herself?”

“I suppose so,” I said.

“Do you wish Sonya had not thrown up on you this morning?”

“Yes!” I said adamantly.

“Then I think you had best start letting her take care of herself.” He studied me for a moment.

I was still confused. “I never told her she couldn’t make her own choices.”

“Does a person have unfettered choice if you inflict arbitrary consequences to punish her for her behavior?”

“But there are consequences for everything!” I insisted.

“Are they created by you?”

“What?”

“There are natural consequences, it is true, for many of our choices. Do you think Sonya and your children, too, know these consequences?”

“I suppose so,” I admitted.

“Then don’t you think you should let them be? You’ve done your part. It takes work to govern so many people, doesn’t it? Don’t you think you would be happier if you let them govern themselves?”

Ken considered me for a moment. “In the past, have you created your own consequences to inflict on Sonya?”

That could be true. I squirmed. Ken continued, “If consequences are artificially created by you, then are they necessary? In fact, aren’t they really measures taken by yourself to force another to do things your way?”

“I suppose they are,” I admitted again.

“Then, don’t you think you should stop?”

I looked down at my shoes that still had vomit on them and shook my head. When I looked up, Ken was gone.

I looked over toward the teacups ride to see Tom and Brittney watching me. Tom quickly looked away as I met his eye and instead turned to Brittney. “What do you say, sis? Do you want to try the teacups ride with me?”

Brittney gave Tom a smile. “I’ll ride it,” she said heading for the turnstile, “but I want my own teacup!”

Tommy laughed, “That’s okay with me! How’s your breakfast settling with you?”

“So far, so far!” Brittney called back, “And yours?”

“We’ll see!”

As they sat down, the ride started to slowly move again. For some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. Here were two kids who seemed to know more about life than I did.

Watching them laugh on the ride, I remembered watching them when they were young. Tom used to play with toy cars for hours at a time. I remember stumbling on him in play and finding a whole interstate system made out of books and rulers and odds and ends from all around the house. He wouldn’t even notice me as he intently drove his cars up and down the ramps and around the city he had created. Once, our dog had the audacity to walk through one of Tommy’s creations and boy did Tommy give him a verbal lashing – then he tossed him out of the house!

One day, though, when Sonya was busy in the kitchen, not long after Britt was born, I peeked in to see if Tom was busy with his cars. Brittney was in her baby seat in the middle of Tommy’s city. One main road went up the side of Brittney’s seat and down the other. As Tom pushed his cars up the road and then let them go to watch them speed down the other side, Brittney first giggled and then squealed with laughter. Tom loved that and as I watched, he completely abandoned the world he had created to jump and make faces at her – anything to have her laugh at him some more. His cavorting broke up the roads he had built -- and he didn’t care. All that mattered was little Brittney in the middle and the way she looked at him.

It would seem that even when Tommy was six he knew more about life than I did.

I turned and went to find Sonya sitting on the bench next to the ride. I sat down next to her and put my arm around her. “I’m sorry, Sonya,” I said. “I should have noticed that you weren’t feeling well. I mean – I should have asked if you wanted to go on the ride. Are you feeling any better?”

Sonya just put her head against me and started to cry. That was when I was really grateful for Ken’s clean shirt. Perhaps Ken could help me have a clean conscience as well?

I tightened my arm around Sonya. Had it really been that long since I asked her how she was feeling? I hadn’t meant to ignore her. I was just trying to get everything right for my family. I thought I’d had to do it all. Ken was saying that maybe I didn’t after all.

I just sat with my arm around Sonya for a long while. The kids got done with the teacups ride and neither one of them threw-up. “Of course not, Dad,” Britt said to me, “We each got to decide on our own spinning!”

I could only manage to grimace at her. She and Tom wandered off to look at the other craft booths while I sat with Sonya. I managed to find her a cup of iced soda and that seemed to help. I waited until she said she was ready before we both got up to go find the kids.

Chapter 7 - Part 2

I looked at him mutely: two sides warring inside of me. I did not really want to keep the blanket. I didn’t want to leave more money and the air was already warming up so I didn’t even need it. Still, I did not want to be treated like a child – ever -- ever again.

Finally, with my heart thumping loudly in my chest, I said, “It’s cold,” and pulled the blanket more firmly around me.

“So what if it’s cold, Sonya?” Sam demanded. “It’ll warm up in a minute. I said leave it here. Don’t you think I know what’s best for the family? I suppose I’m not good enough for you or the family, do I? You don’t need me, do you? Fine! Keep the blanket! In fact, let’s get everyone a blanket!”

Sam reached behind the counter and started grabbing blankets. He grabbed the thickest ones he could find. He grabbed the ones that would surely be the most expensive. He handed one to Tom and one to Brittney and another one to me. Tom said, “No thanks, Dad. I really don’t want a blanket.”

“Sorry, son! Your mom says that’s what’s best so you’re all going to have a blanket no matter what.”

“But Dad,” Brittney started to whine, “It’s heavy and it will get in the way on the rides!”

“Excuse me? Are you the father? Your mom says its cold and we need blankets so we will all have blankets since your mother is so wise.”

The feeling in the pit of my stomach had blossomed and deepened like a bruise that ached even when you didn’t touch it. It was the kind of bruise that showed you were fighting cancer and quite possibly losing. I felt consumed by such a bruise. I had gone to doctors, sure that they would find something, but they never did. They said it was in my head. How could what was in my head cause me so much pain that I wanted to double over with the feeling of it?

I had forgotten how Sam would punish me if I didn’t do things his way. There was always a consequence – the more unpredictable and swift, the less easily forgotten. I would have remembered if had thought about it at all. It must be the carnival that had made me think he might be different this time. He had looked at me yesterday like he loved me and was sorry. I hadn’t seen him look at me with that kind of tenderness for a long time. I suppose that’s what I get for putting my hope in just a look. Looks can be easily misinterpreted. I must have misinterpreted his.

“It’s fine, Sam,” I said, trying to backtrack, but knowing at the same time that it was probably useless. I took the blanket off and laid it in the pile. “I’ll leave the blanket here. You’re right. It’s already warmer.”

“No, no, no! If my wife wants a blanket, then she’s going to get a blanket!” He started taking bills out of his wallet. Unfolding twenties, he must have piled close to $200 on top of the pile of blankets. Sam liked to get cash from the bank whenever we went on trips even if it was just a couple of hours down the road like this trip had been for his family reunion. He said you never knew what would happen. This time it was sure lucky because carnival vendors don’t often take checks or credit cards – not that we had seen any – and we had paid for everything we had eaten.

“Sam!” I gasped. “Really! I don’t need the blanket. None of us do! Put the money back! We won’t have enough for food!”

“It doesn’t matter!” he said. “My wife wants a blanket for her and all her family. She’s going to get it.”

I looked around wildly. I didn’t know what to do. How was I going to get him to stop this madness? I had already put my blanket back. I gathered up the blankets he had given to the children and put them back as well. I picked up the money and put it back in Sam’s hand. “Let’s go, Sam. Really. I don’t want a blanket.”

I started trying to push him gently away from the booth and toward the carnival. “Are you sure?” he demanded, “Because nothing’s more important than the comfort of my family.”

I started to breathe more easily. He was relenting. “Yes, yes Sam. I’m sure.”

“All right then,” he grumbled and he stuffed the money back into his wallet.

We started walking and came again to the Teacups ride. The sign above the ride read in big, bold letters, “Commitment to AGENCY: The Teacups Ride.”

“Let’s ride the Teacups!” said Brittney. I knew she was trying to change the subject. She was trying to get our family back to happy again. I felt beat-up already today and it couldn’t be any later than ten in the morning. It was going to be hard to be happy.

Sam seemed fine, though. “It looks like one of the main rides that we have to take. Let’s go first, Sonya, in case there’s something unpredictable that could harm the kids. They can watch and then have a turn if they want.”

Going in circles has always made me sick. Even being on a swing can make me dizzy and nauseous for hours. I felt the big breakfast in which I had indulged still sitting heavily in my stomach. It was already churning from the panic with Sam and I was sure a teacup ride would not be good for it. Dread settled over me. I didn’t have a choice. I was not up to trying to challenge Sam again right now. Maybe I wouldn’t throw up. Maybe it would be all right.

The kids watched as Sam and I walked around the gate circling the teacups and went through the turnstile. I followed a little slower than Sam, taking deep breaths, hoping that giving my stomach some more time to settle would make things easier.

Sam was already settled into a teacup. Sam loved the teacups ride. In fact, he loved all things fast and furious. Roller coasters were one of his favorite things. The more the ride jolted you around, the better. He used to love taking Tom to the carnival when he was little because Tom loved the big rides, too, even when he was little. The same rides come back every year, though, and really, the rides in a traveling carnival are too tame for Sam’s temperament, so eventually, as Tom got older Sam stopped going with him and sent him alone. I was sad to see him stop. They shared so little in the first place.

The thing Sam loved about the teacups ride is that you could make yourself go as fast as you wanted to go. This ride never ceased to entertain him. He could spin and jerk himself around to his heart’s content. The problem this time being that I was with him. That wasn’t going to be a problem for him, I was sure. It would only be a problem for me.

I climbed shakily into the cup with Sam. My face must have been ash-white, because Tom called from the gate, “Hey Mom! Are you feeling all right?”

I smiled at him wearily. It didn’t do me any good to have Tommy notice that I wasn’t feeling well. If Sam was going to order me around and not allow me any leeway on his decisions, then the least he could do was pay attention to how I was feeling so he could make good decisions for me. As it was, even my physical condition didn’t have a voice with Sam.

The ride began and the teacups slowly began to revolve on the arms that held them to the pedestal in the middle. Sam grabbed the wheel in the center of the cup and began to slowly crank us in our own circle as well. “Please, make him stay slow. Please. Please,” I mentally pleaded.

But Sam sped up as the ride sped up until we were whirling madly. The arms of the machine brought us back and forth and around and the arms of Sam sped us around and around and around. I was so sick. I knew I was going to be even sicker.

“Sam!” I finally called out, “Please! Slow down!”

Sam’s eyes were gleaming. He was having too much fun. If he slowed down for me, his own fun would be diminished. Why would he do that? Shouldn’t I care enough about him that I wanted him to be happy? I’d heard all the arguments before.

Eventually, the centrifugal force was too much for my overwrought nerves and motion sensitivity and big breakfast. I started to throw up. I was clutching Sam’s arm to support myself against all the dizzying circles -- so my breakfast went right into his lap – partially digested, of course.

“Sonya!” Sam hollered in disgust. “Aw! Gross!”

He stopped spinning us in circles, but only because he was trying to disentangle me from his arm. The ride was still going though, so he couldn’t stand up. I threw up in his lap again and then I threw up all over his chest. If it were possible for me to feel any worse, I would have felt bad for getting him so gross, but as it was, I couldn’t feel any worse. I was at my absolute worse limit.

Slowly, the ride wound down to a stop. “Oh man, Sonya! This is so disgusting!” Sam said as he finally managed to stand up out of the pile of vomit he had been sitting in.

I had my eyes closed because the world was still spinning. I forced myself to open them and watched as the world tilted high up to the left and then to the right and finally came back down into place. “I tried to tell you,” I gasped, but that was all I could say. I had to fight to keep the world from tilting around me and I was perilously close to throwing up again.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to go on the ride?” Sam demanded.

That was too much for me. I did throw up again. This time on his shoes.

Chapter 7 - Part 1

Chapter 7 – Sonya

Although I was comfortable in the little craft booth we had requisitioned for our sleeping quarters, I lay awake thinking of what we had been through today. Ken was trying to teach us important things, but I wasn’t sure how well I understood them – not yet anyway. I thought about the principle of integrity. I wondered how my lack of integrity – my lack of emotional honesty -- had hurt my family through the years. I glanced over at Brittney, so precious to me, who had fallen asleep so quickly in this strange place. Her trust in us was so complete that she felt safe even sleeping in a carnival. As I lay looking at her, I remembered a day not many years before on the ball field.

It was an unseasonably warm day in March -- one of those days when the earth holds the promise of spring. A lot of days hold the promise of spring before spring actually blooms around you and they are all exciting, but it’s particularly meaningful in March, because winter has seemed so long that you have stopped believing in the promise of spring. You’ve given up and believe that the world will be cold and dark and frozen forever. Then one day you step out the door braced against the air that has bitten you on every exit for so long – only on this day, it doesn’t bite you. You slowly lift your nose out from the scarf that you had wrapped tightly around you neck and take a breath. First one and then another long and deep. Oh, it’s wonderful. You can smell the earth, you feel the companionship of the air. It really will be warm again!

Of course, first it’s cold again and the weather goes back and forth, but eventually those days of spring keep their promise and summer wraps us up in its vibrant life. I am not so good at winter, so I love spring – the warm days, not the cold ones. On this particular spring day, Sam wanted to take the kids outside to play ball.

It sounded wonderful to me, so we bundled up in nothing but light coats and went out to the still-soggy ball field to let the kids hit the ball. Sam and Tom were throwing the ball back and forth to warm up, starting to throw faster and faster. The ball smacked against their gloves harder and harder. Suddenly, Brittney ran between them to grab the bat that was lying near home base. Sam saw her, but she moved so quickly, he couldn’t completely stop his throw. He was able to slow it down. To this day I don’t know what would have happened if Sam hadn’t been able to slow his pitch. I think we would have lost her.

The ball hit her in the head and knocked her flat. “Brittney!!” Sam yelled and even then it was part outrage and part fear. Sam and Tom both ran to her side. I could only stand paralyzed feeling coldness sweep through my fingers and circle around my heart. I knew I wasn’t breathing. I needed to wait and see if I should.

Brittney sat up almost immediately, though, and my breath came back to me. I know Sam was as glad as I was that Brittney was okay, but he was mad at her, too. Unable to move before, I hurried toward them now. This I needed to try to save Brittney from. “What do you think you were doing young lady?” he hollered at her. “How many times have I told you that a ball field is dangerous? Didn’t you see Tommy and I throwing the ball?”

“I’m okay, Daddy,” Brittney said. “Really. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

My heart sunk in my chest. How could she say it didn’t hurt at all? She was lying – lying about her own pain to keep her out of trouble, but for another reason, too. She was lying because she thought it would protect the rest of us. I knew. I knew exactly what she was doing. How could I not? I had shown her how – never intending for her to imitate me – and yet, that was how it was turning out.

I rushed in. “It’s alright, Sam!” I insisted. “I’ll take her back to the house!”

“Fine!” Sam had said as he threw his arms up in the air. “Let’s all go back to the house!” and he turned around and stormed away.

We never did go back to play ball after that. Not that year or the year after that or the year after that.

**

I woke the next morning and it took me a minute to figure out where I was and why my family was all around me – which was at first a comfort – if I didn’t know where I was, at least the people I cared about were safe and I could see that for sure. Slowly, the carnival and it’s realities came back to me.

I had slept well, warm and comfortable. I did feel stiff, though, from all the hours on the ground. My stomach grumbled and I slipped out of our makeshift bed carefully so as not to awaken anyone still asleep and went to find something to eat. I grabbed an extra blanket to wrap around my shoulders, as the morning was still chilly.

I wandered among the craft booths until I smelled something cooking. It smelled like baked apples and cinnamon. I followed my nose and found the booth run by the Rotary Club. “Fresh Scones” the sign announced in large letters. Again, no one was around. The smell of the food made my stomach rumble louder. I piled several scones onto a plate. Then I poked around some more until I found what was making that delicious apple smell – it was a topping made of cut apples in cinnamon and sauce. Lovely. I piled that into bowls and brought all of it back to the blanket booth to share with the family. First, I left some money, though.

Everyone had awoken while I was gone and they were busy folding blankets and stacking them back in corners. Everyone’s eyes lit up when they saw my loot. Tom had found a large jug of water stored in the booth and our breakfast was complete. I think I even ate a bit more than I should. It was all so good. Even Sam who had obviously choked down our last two meals, seemed to be enjoying this food very much.

As we finished up, we all just sat for a moment enjoying the feeling of being full and not having anywhere we had to be. “Well,” Sam said at last, “I guess we had better get going and see what else there is to see in this carnival. Hopefully, we won’t fall into any more rivers. That has to be the worst that could happen to us and we’ve got that part done.” With that he slapped his knees and stood up. We all followed suit and started filing out of the craft booth.

I came out last and Sam said, “Leave that here, Sonya. We can’t afford to buy anything else.” I looked down in surprise. I had forgotten about the blanket I had thrown around my shoulders when I first got up that morning. The good morning crumpled around me. Why did he always have to treat me like a child? Especially in front of our own children? Why couldn’t he just remind me about the blanket or better yet, ask me if I would like to keep it? Why don’t I get to have a voice?

Chapter 6 - Part 2

I was still enjoying my cotton candy. I loved the way it looked like a big piece and felt like a big piece, but you put it in your mouth and the moment it touched your tongue it shrank down to almost nothing. Which just goes to show you that sometimes things are not as they seem.

“Where do you sleep in a carnival?” my dad was asking my mom and looking at her helplessly.

Tommy cleared his throat. He wasn’t used to talking to Dad unless they were having an argument. He was doing his best, though. “I saw some craft booths on the other side of the Tea Cup ride. Maybe one of them sells blankets or something.”

“Maybe. It’s a good idea, Tom.” Dad said, “Let’s go check it out.”

There were craft booths selling dream catchers and ones selling carved wood figures where the man’s face seemed to come swirling out of the wood. Next to a craft booth selling homemade pies, we found a booth selling blankets. Yeah! I thought. Tom was right! Although I knew he would be.

“This will work great, Sam,” Mom said to my dad and she set out right away to lay more blankets on top of the canvas floor to keep out the chill and then set out blankets for pillows and blankets for covering us again. It’s funny how really all you need for a good night’s sleep are a bunch of blankets. If you have the right tools, night can be heaven. If you don’t – without these simple strips of fabric – we would have had a miserable night. I don’t know what we would have done.

I cozied down in the pile mom offered to me. It had been a strange day. I thought of the family reunion and about the storm. I thought about Dad’s anger and how we had gone the wrong way and then we had found this carnival. We thought we had gone the wrong way, but as I snuggled deeper into the blankets, I knew in my heart that we had really come the right way. I knew the carnival was good for us. Already Dad wasn’t so mad and Mom wasn’t so scared. They looked at each other differently. Tom was different, too. He loved me. I smiled secretly to myself and with that thought drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 6 - Part 1

Chapter 6 – Brittney

I used to watch superheroes on TV. They were usually cartoons and the heroes usually had powers that the rest of us don’t have – like they could control the wind or fire. Sometimes they could even fly and wore capes. I used to think I knew exactly what a superhero looked like because I had seen so many on TV. I was wrong, though. Heroes don’t always wear capes.

When I started first grade, I used to wait in front of the school for Tommy to walk over from the Junior High and walk me home. It was just next door, so it made sense for Tommy to do it and not have mom make a special trip. It worked out fine the first couple of weeks. It was in the third week that a bigger boy started picking on me. He must have been a third grader. He would push me and steal my backpack. I’d chase him around, terrified he wouldn’t give it back, until his mom finally came and picked him up.

I can’t think of the first month of first grade without remembering how the thought of him overshadowed everything else. I dreaded hearing the final bell ring. I went to school dreading the first bell because I knew it would bring the final bell and that would bring – Billy. I hated school. I hated life! You might think I was too little to have such a big reaction. But when you are little, it only takes a little thing to knock you out. That’s what I think.

It never even occurred to me to tell my mom about it. In my first-grade mind, I couldn’t think of anything she could do about it, so I just didn’t tell her about it at all. It probably would have continued all year long, if Billy’s mom hadn’t been late one day.

Billy had already pushed me once and stolen my backpack and I was chasing after him while he laughed and held my bag high above his head. I was jumping, trying to grab the straps dangling from his hand, when he shoved me again. I fell back and started to cry. Billy loved that. “Crybaby! Crybaby!” he sang.

That was all I heard, because someone came barreling from behind me, plowing into Billy and knocking him to the ground. I hurriedly wiped my eyes so I could see. My brother, Tommy, was sitting on top of Billy and had his hands pinned behind his back.

“You think that’s funny, do ya?” Tommy was asking him.

Billy violently shook his head. I think Tommy had knocked the air clear out of him and he still couldn’t catch his breath.

“Do you know who that little girl is?”

Again Billy shook his head.

Tommy leaned down really close to Billy’s face. “That’s my little sister -- and if I ever see you push her again, if I ever see you take anything from her again,” he lowered his voice even quieter, “if I ever see you breathe on her again,” Tommy leaned all the way down next to Billy’s ear and whispered, “it will be your last breath.”

Then he jumped up and started walking toward home. “Come on, Britt!” he called. I scrambled up and ran after him.

That was when I learned that real heroes don’t wear capes. They carry schoolbooks and they might just sleep in the bedroom next to yours. Tommy became my hero that day and no matter what happened after that, nothing could or would ever change it. To me, my brother Tommy could walk on air.

**

I was still hugging Tommy when I noticed Ken was gone. The sky had gotten dark and the carnival lights twinkled on the prize booths and around the entrance to the Tunnel of Love. Mom was looking around us when she said, “Where’d he go?”

Dad had been looking at the three of us and scowling, but at Mom’s words, he turned and looked around. “He was just here --,” he said.

There was a woman sitting on a bench near the entrance to the Tunnel of Love. My dad approached her and asked, “Excuse me, but there was a grey-haired man talking to us just a moment ago. Did you see which way he went?”

The woman looked up at us blankly. “A grey-haired man? I saw you and your wife and your two kids swim out of the tunnel, but I haven’t seen any grey-haired man.”

“You must have seen him,” my dad insisited. “He was standing right here! You might even know him. He seems to own the place. His name is Ken.”

“Ken?” the woman asked. Then she looked off into the distance. “Ken. I remember a man named Ken. Yes. When we first got here. He had some good ideas.” She nodded. “I haven’t seen him for months.”

Months? I was alarmed. We couldn’t stay here for months! I sure didn’t want to anyway.

My dad was worried too, I could tell because he asked in a tiny voice, “Why are you here?’
She didn’t understand his question, though. She thought he wanted to know why she was sitting at the entrance to the Tunnel of Love.

“I’m waiting for my husband,” she sniffed. “I want to go on this ride with my husband. I know he will take me on the ride, so I am waiting right here.”

My dad’s eyes grew wide, “How long have you been waiting?”

She wouldn’t answer any more questions, though. She turned her back on Dad and pretended to study the lights around the entrance to the tunnel.

Dad slowly looked away from the woman and turned toward my mom. He looked sad, but I also thought he looked a little scared. Mom gave him a small smile.

I reached up and tugged on mom’s sleeve. “I’m hungry again, Mom!”

Dad still looked dazed. “I guess we need to plan on staying the night, at least,” he said.

He looked at my mom again for confirmation. She shrugged. “It’s better than being in the rain,” she ventured.

My dad smiled. I wondered if he wasn’t mad anymore. He was looking at my mom in a different way. “Yes, it sure is,” he agreed.

“Let’s get pizza!” I shouted. “And then can we get some cotton candy, Dad? Please? Please? Please?”

Dad did a half-smile at me. “Let’s go see what we can find!”
We found a pizza cart around the corner. The pizza was hot, but there wasn’t anyone there. Dad got us each a piece and left money on the counter again. He also left some money for cotton candy and pulled some off of the rack behind the cart. It was pink. I love cotton candy. Especially pink.

Chapter 5 - Part 2

We swam toward the middle and just as we arrived, a boat shaped like a large swan came into view from around the far corner. “Ready?” Dad asked. “Brittney, you hang onto Tommy’s shirt. Sonya, you hold onto mine. Can you grab the boat, Tom?” Dad asked.

It was the first time in a long while he had talked to me without a jab hidden inside his words. I savored it and only managed to nod mutely.

As the boat swung toward us, I grabbed for the edges of the boat. The swan shape was so smooth, though, there didn’t seem to be any place for handholds. My hands just kept slipping off. The top edge of the boat where people would ride was too high up to reach. My hands scrabbled against the sides of the boat in desperation. I noticed that Dad had managed to dig his fingertips into a large, plastic feather, but his grip was too precarious and he slipped back into the water, too. We watched in frustration as the boat continued to glide away from us and around the bend. In some ways it seemed so inviting and in others it seemed so out of reach.

By now the slow movement of the water had taken us from the first place we had splashed into the water and into another bend of the river. Dad spoke up again, “We’ll just have to let the water carry us out. We’ll have to reach the exit sometime.”

We started swimming slowly with the current. We watched a few other swans float by. Around the next curve in the tunnel, I saw another tunnel that branched off from the main one that we were in. Just then another swan boat swam into view, but this one was different from the others. This one had people in it. It had a whole family in it, in fact. I looked at them in wonder. The mother and father had their arms around each other and around the kids in the boat with them. My heart twisted inside me and I had to turn away. It was no fair. I wanted to be in a family like that. I wanted my mom and dad to love each other enough to show their love to each other. And I wanted them to love us and show us love! I wanted to have my dad’s arm around me. My eyes stung with unshed tears and my throat ached. I swam harder.

I didn’t notice that I had changed my course slightly and was following their boat. I thought their boat would continue down the main tunnel like the other boats had done, but when it got to the side tunnel, it turned and disappeared that way.


As I watched the boat turn and disappear down the tunnel, a wave of shock swept over me. I suddenly realized who that family reminded of. There was a mom and a dad and a teenage son and a school-age daughter. It was us! I was sure of it.

I changed direction in earnest and started swimming with all my might toward the other tunnel.

“Tom!” my mom cried. “Where are you going?”

I didn’t have time to answer her. I was so sure that I needed to get in that boat. I was also sure that not only was that boat the key to getting out of here, it was also the key to everything I had ever wanted. All my heart yearned for had just gone down that side tunnel and nothing was going to stop me from following it!

“TOM!” my dad yelled. “GET BACK HERE!!”

I noticed somewhere in the back of mind that he sounded angry again and almost – was I just imagining it? – panicky. I didn’t care, though. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing mattered but that boat. I thought I caught a glimpse of light reflecting off the side of it somewhere deep in the tunnel. I redoubled my efforts.

That was when the whirlpool hit or I guess, more accurately, that was when I hit the whirlpool. It was gloomy in there – almost dark – and I had been so preoccupied that I hadn’t noticed it. The water grabbed me and jerked me to the left – much faster than I had ever managed to swim even when I was working with the current. Then the water swung me up and to the right before dragging me backward again.

“Help!” I screamed as I felt the water start to pull me downward as well. When I was a kid I used to bring my toys into the bathtub. After I pulled the drain, I’d watch as they swirled around and around and finally got pulled down the vortex. There was a grate over the drain, so I never lost my toys. I did not think that I was going to be quite so lucky – if being smashed against a storm drain can be considered lucky.

Water filled my mouth. I spit it out, gulped air and managed to yell again, “Help! Help me! I need out of here!!!”

Suddenly a strong hand grasped my collar from behind. I felt myself being pulled against the pull of the whirlpool back toward the main tunnel, back toward my family. Finally I felt the pull of the water release me and I was back in the gentle water once more. I gasped and spluttered and finally was able to take several deep breaths. Relief flooded through me. I was alive! I was out of danger.

Or so I thought.

I turned to find my rescurer. My dad had grabbed hold of an outcrop from the wall to ground himself and reached through the torrent to drag me to safety. He was gasping from the effort, but he recovered his breath quickly enough.

“How many stupid, idiotic, impulsive things are you going to do, young man, before you get yourself killed? You know what? You are not even a young man. You’re too foolish to deserve such an appellation. You are just a crazy kid. That’s all you are – a crazy kid. Why won’t you listen? I told you to come back! I yelled after you! You have never listened, though, have you? You never have tried to obey. Listen to your father! He just might -- just maybe -- see a whirlpool ahead that you just might – just maybe – ought not to swim into! Crimeny!” He started to swim back toward Mom and Brittney still muttering, “Of all the stupid, headstrong, arrogant . . .”

I lost track of the rest as he got farther ahead of me and the splash of the water sounded in my ears as I started to swim after him. I think I caught enough of the general drift to get his meaning, though.

I don’t know if it was because of the verbal lashing from my dad or because I knew I couldn’t ever get past that whirlpool unless I were in a boat, but I let go so completely of the dream of being the people in the boat I had just seen that I did not even look back. My heart said goodbye as it sunk deeper and deeper into the pit of my stomach and I swam closer and closer to the family I had left behind.

We continued forward then and eventually the tunnel began to lighten. In another few turns we saw the exit and pulled into the light. We found ourselves back at the carnival. The river came out of the tunnel ran through the carnival for a little ways and then entered the tunnel again on the other side. In front of the entrance, several swan-shaped boats were lined up waiting for riders. Over the front entrance to the tunnel, a sign read, “AFFIRMING WORTH – The Tunnel of Love.”

I looked up to see Ken on the artificial bank of the river offering his hand to my mother to help her out of the water. I climbed out, too, as did Dad and Brittney. Ken handed us all towels. I didn’t know if I should be grateful to him for the towels or angry at him. He must be responsible somehow for us falling and spending so much time in the water. I settled on not yelling at him but not thanking him, either while I accepted the towel and started drying off.

“How was your swim?” Ken asked cheerfully. I glared at him. My dad did, too. At least we agreed on something.


“Why couldn’t we get on the boats, Ken?” Brittney asked. She didn’t sound mad, like the rest of us. Why were kids so accepting of things?

Ken looked surprised. “Well, dear Brittney, who do you think the Tunnel of Love is for?”
Brittney didn’t even take time to think. “For people who love each other!” she exclaimed.

“That’s right,” Ken said sadly.

Brittney looked at him in confusion. “But we do love each other!” she insisted.

“Do you?” Ken asked. Then he turned and looked at Dad and at Mom and then at me.

“How do you show each other?”

There was silence. None of us could think of anything, of course.

Ken turned to me. “Do you love your Dad?”

I blinked in surprise. This wasn’t about me. I wasn’t in the wrong. I was the victim here. Couldn’t he see how my life had been poisoned – sabotaged – by the anger of my father? It was my dad who needed to show love to me! -- If he even did. What difference did it make at all about my tortured feelings? Ken continued to look at me, waiting for an answer.

I looked down and mumbled, “Of course I love my dad.”

“When was the last time you told him?”

I hesitated and then admitted, “I don’t know.”

“Do you think it’s important?”

“Yes.” Of course.

“Then don’t you think you’d better find a way to express your love? In fact, don’t you think that you should find a way to express it in everything you say to your dad?”

I remembered the family I had seen disappear on the swan boat. I knew how badly I wanted a family like that. What Ken was suggesting seemed like the kind of thing that might get me just the kind of family that I wanted. I looked up at Ken and nodded. I didn’t say anything, but in my heart I resolved to commit myself to show love everytime I talked to my dad -- or my mom or Brittney.

Ken smiled at me. “Good boy,” he said. Then he turned to look at the rest of my family. “I could ask each of you the same questions, couldn’t I? If you care about each other, and I can tell that you do, don’t you think you had better find a way to communicate that to one another?”

“Now, Tom,” Ken said to me confidentially, “maybe you should try your Integrity again coupled with Affirming Worth.”

I looked at him in total confusion. But then I remembered what I had said in the house of mirrors that had made us fall into the water of the tunnel of love and I knew what he meant. I didn’t know if I could do it, though. Could you tell a person that you loved them and that you were angry at them and have them believe you?

I decided if I was going to keep my resolution, I had better give it a try. “Mom,” I started. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings in the house of mirrors. It’s because I love you and because you mean so much to me that it bothers me when Dad yells at you.” I glanced at Dad. His face hardened but he didn’t stop me. “I wish you could stand up to Dad so that it would stop, but I know that it’s hard.”

Mom smiled sadly at me and came over to give me a hug.

“Brittney,” I said turning to my sister. “I owe you an apology, too. It is very hard for me to see how Dad loves you and sometimes it makes me angry enough to wish terrible things. But, that’s not how I really feel. I love you, Britt, and I am so glad that you were born. I know,” I paused for a second wondering how honest I should be. Would it backfire and hurt me someday? I plunged on anyway, “I know that I’m lucky to have you.”

Brittney barreled into my arms and squeezed me so hard that I had to laugh and pry her loose. I marveled because I thought I would feel weak and foolish, but in all honesty (I smiled at the word) I had never felt stronger – more full of power – than I did at that moment. Right then I felt that all things really were possible.