My life had become the opposite of what I had spent a lifetime fearing.
She buckled her seatbelt, glanced at me, and exhaled. “My mom and dad rode this thing when I was in kindergarten. I’m serious. Once, and then I’m done.”
She agreed to ride the rollercoaster at my insistence, but with great reluctance. As long as the amusement park had been in service, it saddened me that she had never taken the time to ride Mission Beach’s oldest attraction. The fact I was busting her rollercoaster cherry made up for it, though.
“Once is fine,” I said. “Listen to this. My father’s father’s father not only ride this fucker with his wife, he rode it when he was a little kid.”
She peered over the edge of the car and down along the wooden structure.
“Yeah, my great grandfather,” I said. “When he was little, in like 1935. And he said back then it was already an old amusement park. Every generation of my family from then until now has ridden this fucker with their wife.”
The attendant checked everyone’s seatbelt, and after giving instructions regarding remaining seated in our cars, started the ride. One of the world’s oldest rollercoasters, and one of few remaining wooden rollercoasters in the United States, Belmont Park’s The Big Dipper was an attraction I had spent a lifetime enjoying.
As the car slowly clanked along the tracks, she gazed over the edge of the ride. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “We haven’t even gone up the first hill yet. And remember, this thing only flies off the tracks like, I don’t know, maybe once a year.”
“Luke, stop it. I swear.”
As we slowly climbed the last few feet to crest of the first hill I raised my hands high it the air.
“She said leave your hands in the car.”
I cocked an eyebrow as the car reached the top.
Liv raised her hands above her head.
The car reached the apex, seemed to pause for a second, and then plummeted to the bottom of the tracks.
A shrill scream escaped Liv’s lungs.
The car shot up the next hill, slowing slightly toward the top, only to quickly fall again. The process repeated itself over and over, all but extracting the air from our lungs each time. After coming to a stop back where we originally started, Liv sighed and turned to face me.
I had a feeling she actually enjoyed herself.
“Let’s do it again,” she said.
“I told you that you’d like it.”
“I didn’t say I liked it. I said I wanted to go again.”
I shrugged and laughed lightly. “Okay.”
Five rollercoaster rides and two hours later, it was apparent she learned a little but about her sense of adventure.
“I want an ice cream cone,” she said.
Ice cream wasn’t something I typically ate. As far as I was concerned, yogurt was a treat.
I grinned and nodded. “Sounds great.”
As we buried our faces into two of the largest ice cream cones I had ever seen, we laughed, talked about when we were kids, and agreed that we had been deeply in love with each other since we first met. And, for the first time since I was a young child, my life felt like it was finally in order.
I eagerly nibbled the last few bites of my waffle cone from my sticky fingertips. “Okay, this isn’t something I want to do every day, but that motherfucker was good.”
Liv’s cone looked like it did when they handed it to her. She was adorable. Sitting on the stool in her raggedy jean shorts with her legs crossed and her elbow resting on her knee, she held the cone directly in front of her face, savoring it one lick at a time. Obviously unaware of my interest, she forced her tongue against the chocolate ice cream, leaving a beveled path along the surface.
She glanced up. Chocolate ice cream covered the corners of her mouth. “I love ice cream.”
“I didn’t know I did, but I guess I do.”
Her eyes darted around me. “Where’s yours?”
“Gone,” I said.
She extended her arm. “Wanna lick?”
I grinned. “No, you go right ahead. I’m having fun watching you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Weirdo.”
We both seemed shocked by her phone ringing, and as she pulled it from her purse, I instinctively pressed my hands against my shorts and realized my phone, as always, wasn’t with me. Most people’s crutch, and my personal annoyance, a cell phone was something I felt I needed to have but rarely used.
“Uhhm, it’s your dad,” she said, her voice conveying the emotion she was feeling.
She handed me the phone. “There’s been an accident.”
As I accepted the phone, she tossed her ice cream into trash and grabbed her purse.
“Your brother’s been hit by a car,” my father said.
My mouth immediately went dry. I tried to swallow, but my throat constricted. I wondered the worst, but quickly convinced myself that if he had been killed, my father would have said so already.
I swallowed hard. “Was he. Was he uhhm. On his bike?”
“Yeah. I’ve been trying to call you, but. Well, it doesn’t matter. He’s alive, Luke, but he’s pretty banged up.”
His voice faltered. He cleared his throat. “Both arms are broken. And. God damn it. His uhhm. His legs. The uhhm.”
I fought against the emotion. “Pop?”
“I’m here,” he said. “The car. His legs are shattered, Luke.”
“Where is he?”
“Balboa. He’s still in the emergency room. The trauma unit.”
“We’ll be there in fifteen,” I said.
“Luke?”
“Yeah, Pop?”
“Drive careful, okay?”
“See you in fifteen.”
Matthew was three years younger than me, and I felt as compelled to protect him as I did Liv. He was his own person, however, and lived a life not much differently than I did. Riding his bicycle was his salvation.
As we silently rode to the hospital, I wondered if he’d ever be able to ride it again, and if not, what would become of him.
The same thing, I guessed, that would become of me if I lost Liv.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LIV
We stood in the small room with Luke’s father and two sisters. From what the police officer had said, Matthew was riding along a bike path when a woman swerved out of her lane of traffic, running over him from behind. He was crushed by the car, breaking both arms, fracturing his skull, and shattering his legs.
Although the doctors weren’t certain, there was little hope that he would ever walk again, let alone ride his bike. Bicycling was to Matthew what surfing was to Luke, and even though I was grateful he was alive, I felt terrible that something he loved as much as cycling would an activity he would never be able to enjoy again.
Still unconscious, and wrapped in bandages and casts from head-to-toe, what little portion of his face that was exposed was covered in cuts. There was no doubt he was lucky to be alive, but looking at him made it extremely difficult to find any good in what had happened.
I squeezed Luke’s hand as he talked quietly with his father.
“How are you? I haven’t seen you two in forever,” I whispered to his sisters.
“Fine, just been busy with work,” Sarah said. “Are you still doing the graphic artist stuff?”
I smiled and nodded. “Yeah.”
I shifted my focus to Mary.
“I’m good. Married. And we’re in San Clemente,” she said.
Mary and Sarah were a year apart in age, and were three and four years older than Luke, respectively. Growing up, it seemed they were a pair of independent children apart from Luke and Matthew. The boys and the girls were oddly separated in pairs, each group treated differently by the parents. The girls spent all of their time at home, and the boys rarely went home unless forced to do so – Matthew spending his time on his bicycle, and Luke at the beach.
As much time as Luke and I spent together as kids
, most of it was at my parent’s house, and very rarely would we even go to his home. What little time we did spend there was generally for Luke to change clothes or get his surfboard.
An odd family that seemed to have no hatred toward one another, but certainly wasn’t close-knit by any means, they didn’t spend time together like most families. I spent more time with my parents, and they lived half a nation away.
Sad that an event like this had to bring everyone together, but grateful to see them all in one room, I stood and tried to smile as Luke asked questions about his brother’s future. As he finished talking to his father, he exchanged awkward glances with his sisters and then pulled me close.
“He said we’ll just have to wait and see,” he whispered.
I forced a slight smile. “For right now, we should just be thankful he’s alive.”
He reached for what little portion of Matthew’s fingers that extended beyond the end of the cast. As he gently cupped the palm of his hand around his brother’s, he turned toward me and nodded. “I know.”
The machine above Matthew’s bed beeped at a steady pace, making the otherwise silent room seem to be occupied by something alive and willing to communicate with the entire family. As Luke spoke softly to his unconscious brother, I lowered my head and began to pray.
“Oh wow,” I heard Mary gasp.
I turned around.
I hadn’t seen her in years, and although she was considerably older, her dark complexion and almost black eyes made her unmistakable. I knew there were hard feelings between Luke and his mother, and as soon as I recognized her I wondered just how well they would get along.
My answer was immediate.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Luke howled.
Sarah glanced toward Luke. “Luke!”
Luke pointed toward the door. “Get the fuck out!”
Her face seemed to fill with shame. She raised her hands slightly as if forming a buffer between them.
“Luke, I…” she began.
Luke’s father lowered his head. “Ruth, I don’t know that…”
Luke pulled his hand away from mine. Seeming almost overcome by emotion, he quickly stepped in front of her and placed his hands against her shoulders. She appeared on the verge of tears.
“Get the fuck out!” Luke demanded, pushing her toward the door slightly. “And don’t you fucking dare come back.”
She turned toward the door, paused, and walked out. Sarah and Mary followed, leaving Luke’s father behind.
“Luke, I had no idea,” his father said apologetically.
“Who the fuck told her?” Luke asked.
His father tilted his head toward the door. “I’m sure it was one of your sisters.”
“If she comes back in here,” Luke said. “I’ll call the fucking cops. She has no right.”
His father nodded. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t.”
As his father turned toward the door, I reached for Luke’s hand. As soon as my fingers touched his skin, he instinctively pulled away.
“Luke?”
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m just. She. Come on, let’s just go.”
“You want to leave?” I asked.
“I need to,” he responded.
I glanced at his brother, shifted my eyes back to Luke, and nodded. “Okay.”
The ride to my house was eerily quiet. After we parked the car, Luke walked inside, went to the couch, and sat quietly for several hours.
I felt he may need time to think, so I left him alone and started dinner. When he refused to eat, I began to wonder. When he refused sex I wondered even more.
But it was when he pulled his knees to his chest and began humming while rocking back and forth that I became worried.
And, from there, things only got worse.
Much worse.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LUKE
I finished the glass of bourbon and poured another two-ounce shot. With slight reluctance, I walked into the living room and sat down. As I sipped the whisky from the glass, I stared down at the baseboard and began to recite a portion of my childhood I had spent a lifetime attempting to forget.
“When we’re kids, we’ve got this expectation of our parents protecting us. It doesn’t matter if it’s the bumping noises in the night or the toy in our closet that somehow casts a shadow that makes it look like an eight-foot tall monster. Whatever we’re incapable of conquering, we’ve got this impression that our parents are not only able – but willing – to save us from the clutch of what it is that might harm us.”
Out of my peripheral, saw Liv nod. I took a shallow sip and lowered the glass.
“Well,” I said. “That isn’t always the case. Or at least it wasn’t at my house.”
I raised the glass to my mouth, paused, and inhaled the aroma of the whisky. As my mouth began to salivate, I took another sip.
“I don’t really remember it, but I do. It’s hard to explain. I remember the guilt. Fuck. I was filled with guilt for so long. And then? After the guilt?”
I turned to face her. I don’t really know what I expected her to do or say, but regardless, she sat at the end of the couch with her hands in her lap and stared back at me stone-faced.
I smiled a complacent smile, satisfied she was providing exactly what I needed to continue.
I shifted my eyes back to the baseboard. “After the guilt, I got angry. Every time it happened, I got mad. You know the funny thing?”
I took another short drink and winced at the taste. The question was rhetorical, and she knew it. I didn’t need confirmation or an answer to continue, I only needed guts. This was a story I yearned to tell, but seemed rather reluctant to do so now that the time had come. If I could somehow find the courage to share it with someone, Liv would be that person.
I gazed blankly at the floor. “I wasn’t mad at her. I was angry with myself. Somehow, at least at first, I told myself whatever she was doing was my fault. She said she did it to make me more focused. To make me have a better understanding of life. Life isn’t easy. That’s what she told me. Life isn’t easy.”
I finished what little whisky remained and let the glass dangle from between my thumb and forefinger as I continued.
“So, she’d make me get my homework and study. And while I studied, she’d…you know…she’d uhhm...”
I glanced in her direction.
I needed her to tell me it was okay.
She reached for my hand. I forced a smile and returned the gesture, taking her hand in mine.
As we did so many times on the way home from school, we held hands. It was comforting. I sat for a long moment and somehow converted Liv’s energy to my own. As the warmth of her hand transferred to the surface of my palm, I found the nerve to continue.
“So, every night, or at least I think it was every night, she’d make me study my homework. And while I did, she’d uhhm...”
I fought against my tightening throat and swallowed. It wasn’t easy to continue, but I knew I needed to.
“She’d touch me. Then, I’d uhhm…you know…I’d lose uhhm…I’d lose focus.”
I took a glance in her direction and quickly shifted my focus to the floor. “That’s what I was trying to say. I’d lose focus. And when I did, she’d scream at me. She told me when I reached a point that I didn’t lose focus, we’d stop.”
Her hand was shaking.
I turned toward her.
A tear escaped her eye and slowly worked its way down along her cheek. I hadn’t realized it until I saw hers, but as I sat and watched it diminish as it rolled past the corner of her mouth, it came to me that I was crying as well.
I reached up and wiped my cheeks with the side of my finger.
She did the same.
“I don’t really know when, but I finally reached a point when I was able to focus. You know, I graduated with honors, but I didn’t go to college. Everyone wanted to know why. In hindsight, I think I was scared. You know, even though she had been gone
for some time, it was still really tough for me to convince myself it was over. I was sure if for whatever reason I couldn’t get good grades, she’d reappear and it’d all start over again.”
I raised the glass to my lips and tipped the bottom up. After realizing it was empty, I lowered it into my lap and sighed.
“I was a pretty strong kid. You know, nobody knew anything. But Matt?”
I shook my head. “I was twelve at the time. I think I may have even told myself it didn’t happen. You know, that it was all some kind of crazy dream or something. I think, to tell you the truth, I told myself it was what I deserved – or maybe what I needed. I remember thinking my good grades were a result of her persistence or whatever. But Matt?”
I clenched my jaw and shook my head. “I was twelve. I went to get my surfboard. You know, he was eight. Maybe he was nine, I don’t know. And she was…”
I stood from the couch and realized she was still holding my hand in hers. I don’t know where I was going, but wherever it was, Liv changed my mind. Without speaking, she pulled against my hand slightly and convinced me to sit down.
I inhaled a deep breath and exhaled until I was satisfied I was ready. “Her uuhm. Her head was in his lap.”
Saying it frustrated me. I clenched my teeth and inhaled a long breath through my nose. “I lost it. I remember beating her until Matt ran out and got dad. He talked to each one of us after that. I think I may have blamed him a little bit, too. But it didn’t last for long. It was all her.”
“She was an evil bitch.”
She pulled me into her, cupped her hand against my cheek, and guided my head onto her chest.
As I sat snuggled up against her, I relaxed to a point of weakness. I later realized it was exactly what I had been needing to allow myself to truly recover. For the few seconds that followed, however, I was embarrassed.
Until she joined me.
And, in each other’s arms, we sat and cried until we were both incapable of shedding another tear.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LIV
Being kicked in the gut. That’s all I could think of that would explain what I felt after Luke described what happened with his mother. I knew one day something would come along in life and knock me to my knees, but I had no idea it would be Luke revealing details of his mother’s abuse of him as a child that did it.