I Forgave You Anyway Read online

  “I can’t find a doctor. Besides, it’s called a hangover. . .not usually a medical emergency.” I said acidly.

  She remained quiet, irritating me further. We remained silent, the tension building. Finally, she gave in and wrapped her arms around me.

  “You can’t keep complaining and not doing anything about how you feel, babe.”

  I rolled my eyes, pushing her arms off me.

  “I rarely say anything! I don’t tell you every time I feel tired. I don’t tell you how many times I just want to give up, month after month of not getting better. I just don’t care anymore!” I said, my voice taking on a shrill quality.

  She stiffened, staring at the crumpled sheets. I knew that she didn’t understand my health problems. She just wanted to fix it and right now, I was probably making her feel helpless, which was one feeling Jae hated the most.

  “You need to get your medicine,” she said curtly.

  I pushed myself off the bed, shooting her a dirty look. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m tired of having my blood drawn every few months by a different doctor, because the first one stopped taking my insurance. You would think by now it would be obvious to them that I’ve been on the same medication for years.” I shook my head, smiling angrily. “But nope, gotta go through the whole process over and over to get a bottle of pills they claim you can’t live without.”

  I softened, feeling defeated. Her green eyes held nothing but compassion for me, and it melted the ice inside my chest. “The worst part is, that the medicine doesn’t really heal the problem. It just tricks my body into thinking the problem is not there. What a load of crap that is, eh?” I said, smiling at her, realizing I was taking out my problems on the one person who really wanted to help.

  I wasn’t used to support, but Jae patiently showed me that I wasn’t alone. She smiled back. One good thing about Jae is that she rarely held a grudge.

  “Well sweetie, all you can do is try. If the medicine helps, then you should take it.”

  I raised my eyebrows in amusement. I knew I wasn’t going to the doctor anytime soon. Maybe somehow my body would just heal itself. For now, I’d live with it, or start a black-market internet search for thyroid medication. I got up and walked the seven steps to our bathroom and sat down on the cold toilet seat.

  “You know what’s really funny though?” I asked, raising my voice over the sound of my pee hitting the toilet water.

  “What?” Jae asked, sensing my better mood.

  “When the doctor asks me if I’m pregnant,” I laughed.

  One of the perks of being a lesbian is that you get to mess with the OBGYN doctor. We are the only women who can be sexually active and be one hundred percent certain there are no surprises floating around in our uteruses.

  Jae had gotten up, and was standing in the bathroom door, waiting for her turn to pee. She was wearing a black sports bra and basketball shorts, her creamy skin flowing over her flat stomach and well-defined biceps. She cocked her head to the side, appreciating my own morning beauty, which consisted of smeared eyeliner and Grinch pajama pants. My rat’s nest of wavy brown hair was prone to getting stuck in my armpits, giving me whiplash and a sinking reminder that I’d forgotten to apply deodorant.

  “What?” I said, feeling a little sheepish.

  “Nothing, you’re just beautiful, that’s all.” She said, pushing past me for rights to the porcelain throne. “Now get out! I have to use the bathroom,” she laughed.

  “Really?” I asked sarcastically, letting out a chuckle.

  Jae was weird about bathroom stuff. While she had no problem whatsoever watching me pee, in three years I hadn’t even heard one fart. I’d lost my own will to preserve fart virginity around year two, but not Jae. The closest she’d come was about a month ago. Her face had turned beet red as she announced very formally that she had just farted. I didn’t even get the satisfaction of hearing it.

  “Really!” She insisted, smiling at me mischievously as she shut the door in my face.

  I shrugged and yelled, “I’ll make the coffee!” As I thumped down the stairs.

  Chapter 5: Growing Pains

  “Did he eat dinner?” I asked David.

  He looked homeless with his unshaven face and stained sweatpants.

  “Yes,” he said, looking annoyed.

  “Shower?” I asked curtly.

  “Yes,” he said, sighing heavily.

  It was no secret we were not getting along. I’d recently called Child Protective Services on him, which did little to improve our communication.

  “Okay,” I said sarcastically. “Don’t get all huffy, he has school early, and I still have to go to work tonight.”

  “Well, I guess you could call CPS and have them come make sure I’m bathing him,” he retorted.

  I rolled my eyes. “You just had to go there, didn’t you?”

  “Yep, I did, and maybe you’ll understand why when they come drug test you out of the blue, asking YOU questions and coming into YOUR house,” he spat back.

  “They already did, and you know what? I don’t do drugs, so why would I care?” I shot back.

  “Oh, give me a break, Anna. You know I smoke weed; I’ve done it for years.” He tilted his head up, looking at the night sky. “Thankfully, I hadn’t smoked in weeks when the social worker showed up,” he said, looking smug.

  “Well that’s great, David, got out of that one by the skin of your teeth,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “Just so you know, it wasn’t about getting you in trouble. If you just would have listened to me, I wouldn’t have called.” I held back the lump that was forming in my throat. He still got to me, even after all these years. “I just didn’t want Michael playing by your pond alone, or with some other kid who can’t swim. It’s dangerous! All it would take is one slip, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

  Our whole disagreement had begun because Michael had come home and told me how he’d had so much fun at his Dad’s house, fishing by the pond, lighting a fire with a blow torch, and chopping sticks with a machete in the woods. I’d called David immediately, and told him exactly what I thought of an eight-year-old being trusted in those situations.

  He shook his head and threw down the cigarette he’d been smoking. “You tell yourself what you have too, Anna. You called them because you were mad at me. . . I’m so hurt, it’s hard not to hate you right now.”

  His stormy eyes looked black as coal, cutting through me like two knives sinking into scar tissue.

  “I don’t want you to hate me,” I said, my voice faltering.

  He glared at me, turning back towards his house. “Well, just stay back behind the fence,” he said, motioning towards the gate that separated the driveway and the front garden. “Carol doesn’t want you on this property.”

  Carol was his roommate; the woman who owned the property. She was an old hippie in her early fifties. She smoked more weed and knew more Bible verses than Bob Marley and Pat Robertson combined.

  “Michael! Get moving! It’s time to leave, your Mom’s here!” David yelled as he headed towards his garage.

  “Wait!” I yelled at his back. He paused, staring at the ground. “I don’t want us to fight. I thought I was doing the right thing and I just didn’t want Michael to get hurt. Everything is so different now.”

  I stood in the wind, shivering a little, his silence seeming like an eternity. Finally, he shook his head, not turning back towards me.

  “I told you that he wasn’t in danger, that he was being watched over, but that wasn’t good enough for you.” He said, his voice low and angry.

  Without another word, he disappeared into the house.

  God, Anna, you’re so stupid, I thought. Look at what you’ve done now! Michael needs you to get along with David. You are so paranoid. . . calling the law on David like a crazy ex-wife.

  Just then, Michael came bursting through the garage door. I watched through the window as they hugged and exchanged a quick wrestle, my son giggling and boun
cing up and down, not yet noticing I was standing at the end of the drive. Hot tears were cutting across my cheeks, but I refused to acknowledge them, or worse, let David see me wipe them away.

  “Mommy!” Michael exclaimed, finally seeing me.

  He ran towards me, his little arms outstretched. My kid knew how to greet a person, that much was for sure. I hugged him tightly, burying my face in his soft hair, breathing in his scent.

  “Hey kiddo, let’s go home. Jae is waiting for us,” I said, faking a smile as I buckled him into his car seat.

  “By the way, Anna,” David’s deep voice came from behind me. I jumped, nearly hitting my head on the car door. Somehow, he’d managed walk up behind me without me even noticing. “The CPS worker laughed at you,” he continued, a satisfied smirk trailing on his lips. “She said that they deal with women like you all the time. Trying to get their baby Daddy’s in trouble because they can’t get over being left all alone. . . sad really, isn’t it?”

  Angry tears threatened to slide down my cheeks, every cell in my body tensing. I wanted to hit him so badly. Maybe I wasn’t so stupid after all. David didn’t care about Michael’s safety, and Carol was just an ole’ country girl that never had anything tragic happen to her free-range grandchildren. She was also secretly in love with David. An old cougar protecting her cub from the evil ex-wife.

  I liked Carol, and Michael adored her. David was using her, just like he used everyone in his life. She cooked for him, cleaned up after him, took care of Michael while he was at work, and “protected” him from me when David twisted whatever story he needed to spin in order to get his way. She was a place holder until David could replace her with a newer, younger puppet.

  In all honesty, I empathized with her. I knew what it was like to be dazzled by David’s smoke screen. I let out a big sigh, allowing my anger to dissipate. For me, Michael wasn’t a pawn. Someday, somehow, I believed he would see that. All these games his Father played would be revealed, and David would have to answer for them.

  In the meantime, I wouldn’t debase myself by resorting to violence. I could only imagine how it might play out if I let myself revel in the absolute satisfaction of punching him straight in the nose. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know exactly how it would play out. He’d laugh at me, smiling behind the police’s back while he nursed his bruises, holding Michael’s hand while they toted me off to jail. He wanted nothing more than to shame me and to take away the one thing that meant the world to me.

  “Goodnight David,” I hissed, shutting the car door and walking stiffly to the driver’s side.

  Not today Satan. . . not today. I resolved.

  (Chapter Break)

  Once we were at home and Michael was safely tucked in bed, Jae and I slumped together on the couch, taking a moment before I’d have to leave again for work.

  “So, how’d it go?” Jae asked.

  “Well, he pretty much hates me,” I said sadly.

  Jae furrowed her brow, taking in a sharp breath, already heated. “Well, it’s his own damn fault. You don’t let an eight-year-old play with a blow torch, run around the woods with a machete or send him down to a pond without supervision.” She paused to look at me. “I mean, has he seen Michael run? No offense, but the kid has no coordination, and David gives him something sharp, and lets him run around the woods?”

  I laughed, wiping away a new set of tears. “Well that’s true,” I said. “You’re right, Michael really isn’t ready to handle a machete. We know our child. Michael wasn’t raised in the country. It just bothers me that Carol is taking David’s side. Unlike Michael, her grandkids probably came straight from the womb wielding BB guns and wearing camouflage diapers.” I said jokingly.

  We laughed together, but quickly became serious again. Jae took my hand and looked intently into my eyes.

  “Honestly Anna, I don’t care how the other kids were raised. I realize that David is living with Carol, and that’s she’s been like a Grandma to Mikey. I’m thankful for that, but it only takes minutes for a kid to drown. You did what any Mother would have done. It’s not like you didn’t try to talk to him,” she said soothingly.

  “I know Jae, it just seems like I can’t win with David. He said I overreacted. Told me that Michael hasn’t ever been allowed to go to the pond alone, but how can I trust that, when Michael tells me different?” I paused for a moment. “You know, I just don’t think he’s old enough to be holding a blow torch at all. It just sucks, because I know David is right in a way. He’s a boy and he needs to be taught things, like how to use a torch and how to cut down sticks. Man stuff, you know?”

  Jae nodded and said, “Yes, he does, but he doesn’t need to be doing it unsupervised and he certainly doesn’t need to be told that his Mom is living in sin, and that he should pray that God changes her heart.”

  My gut wrenched. I was beyond angry at David for that one. He’d told Michael that Jae and I were a sin. That it said so in the King James Bible and that he ought to pray that I would repent. I knew David wasn’t thrilled at the idea of me and Jae, but I thought he’d at least have enough respect for me to stay out of the whole gay rights conversation.

  It felt like he just wanted to dig the knife deeper, especially knowing my background included being raised in a radical, Bible thumping, gay-hating church. Secretly, I think it got in the way of his hopes for us reuniting, but now I was pretty sure he’d rather eat dog food than be with me anyway. I’d embarrassed him and put him in the hot seat concerning the one thing he still took pride in. Appearing like a good Father to Michael was the one thing David still had left.

  “I don’t know babe,” I started, looking back at Jae. “If it was the right thing, why does it feel so wrong? Now Carol doesn’t even want me on her property.”

  Jae rolled her eyes. “Carol is an ole’ pot head, who lives in Jesus land. I don’t give two craps what she thinks, and neither should you.”

  “Yeah, but Michael loves her, and she really has been there for both of them.” I said, feeling another wave of guilt.

  “Well, maybe now they will take you seriously. You had to talk to CPS just like they did. You got asked the same questions, took the same drug test, everything. David is just a whine-ass,” she said, smiling and squeezing my shoulders.

  I stared at the carpet, wiping my nose on a balled-up tissue.

  “I don’t know Jae. I’m not sure things will ever be the same between me and David. I feel like he’s never going to let this go.”

  Chapter 6: Memory Lane

  I’ve read that memories are simply your brain recalling the last time you remembered an event. Over time, the memories begin to fade, each recollection layered on the last. This idea often left me wondering which of my memories were reality and which were simply skewed perceptions of events I’d long forgotten. Maybe my relationship with my Mother wasn’t as awful as I’d remembered.

  Maybe I was just bitter, holding onto twisted memories that weren’t totally based in reality. People often want a quick answer when they ask you complicated questions. Like that little box on most job applications, where you are supposed to summarize in one paragraph, who you are. As if we aren’t complex beings who honestly have very little clue as to why we are here, let alone who we are.

  The only constant is that everything changes and that there is a lot of drama and pain in this life which appears to be mostly out of our control. Some of what happens to us we can’t remember, like faded photos from our past we hear stories from our relatives, or maybe we might see a video or two if you were born sometime after the camcorder was invented. What remains is only what we feel. A sense that something has happened to us, something that has changed us either for the worse, or for the better.

  One such video of myself exists from when I was about three. The film is dark and grainy, made blight by plumes of smoke from my Grandparents puffing away on Marlboro lights. I was their first grandchild and they’d sit around drinking beer while I entertained them with my discoveries
and endless chatter.

  My Grandparents were not exactly your stereotypical, hoary headed, wrinkled old couple with cookies in every jar.

  My Grandma was beautiful and thin, with olive skin and blue eyes. She was half Finnish and half Native American, handing down her beauty to all her offspring. She was proud of her heritage, and I never tired of helping her make dream catchers, or hearing stories about the Ottawa tribe she belonged to. She took me to a Pow-Wow once in Northern Michigan where an elder blessed me with my childhood Odawa name, which roughly translated to “little deer.”

  The Finn side of her heritage was something she was more reluctant to speak of than the Indian. Most people might not even realize Finland exists. A frozen winter wonderland, the small country sits nestled between Switzerland and Russia. It’s the birthplace of the sauna and supposedly, it’s one of the best places in the world to view the Northern Lights. Someday maybe I’ll get there, rent a glass igloo, and see it for myself.

  In June 1907 my Great-Great Grandmother Olga boarded The Cedric, a 2,875-passenger ship, and sailed to America. While it isn’t clear if she was pregnant before she left port, or if she got pregnant sometime after, either way, my Great-Grandfather Lawrence was raised in a logging camp in Northern Michigan where he would later join the Army, fall into a forbidden love with a native Ottawa woman and together, they would orphan my Grandmother.

  One by death, the other by a keen addiction to the white man’s fire water. If you are wondering about that forbidden love, well, that’s a story for another book, but basically the Natives and the Finns didn’t see eye to eye and in those days, my Grandmother was looked at as a “mixed” child.

  After the death of her Father, she was taken in by his family, who raised her in the Finn community, speaking only the Finnish language during the early years of her life.

  At the age of sixteen, she married a Dutch boy known as the “Silver Tongued Devil,” bore him 8 children, and later would re-marry the gentle, loving man I grew up calling Grandpa, fondly known as “Ole’ Blue” by those who loved him.