Page 96 of Penalty to the Heart

Roxie says that I feel undeserving of love and healthy attention, so I try to obtain it in all the wrong ways. After some deep conversations in which she forced me to talk in-depth about my childhood, she concluded that this self-sabotage mechanism must have been provoked into existence by my father’s lack of interest in me.

I didn’t see that one coming.

But after she said it, something just clicked inside me.

She’s right.

From an early age, I did start acting up and getting myself into trouble.

I felt better if my dad punished me for something I did or said than if he ignored me completely. I just couldn’t live up to the idea he had of what a perfect son should behave like. He already had Jack for that.

Roxie also thinks that after my father passed away, Jack became a parental figure rather than sticking to our sibling dynamic. As such, all those survival instincts I had accrued and used with my dad were somehow transferred onto Jack. That’s why I never outgrew my rebellious phase and was happy to be as co-dependent on him as I was with my dad.

Because it was the only way I felt loved and protected by my brother, not only with him but with anyone else who meant something to me.

To say that my mind was fucking blown when she told me that shit is an understatement.

Not only because everything Roxie was saying actually struck a chord inside me but because I would never have connected those dots if she hadn’t taken the time to show them to me.

Told you my girl was the best in the biz.

Like any good Bostonian would say— she’s wicked smart .

But now it’s time for me to break away from all those bad habits and start creating healthier ones. Hence why I’m having Sunday dinner over at my mom’s house, per Erin’s invitation.

If I’m to start making amends for all the shit I’ve put people through, then I have to start with my own mother first. Like me, she’s been stuck in a dark place for far too long, and it won’t do us any good to keep ignoring it.

Thankfully, Erin was on board the minute I told her my plan to confront my mother.

“Ma, do you mind if we talk before dinner?” I ask after ensuring that Erin is occupied with the girls in the other room, not wanting my nieces to overhear what I’m about to discuss with their grandmother.

“Not right now, Caleb. As you can see, I have my hands full,” she says, opening the oven lid and pulling a large tray out with a turkey big enough to feed a family of ten.

“Let me help you with that,” I offer, grabbing a pair of oven mitts and quickly putting them on.

“I can do this on my own.”

“But you don’t have to. I can do it,” I say, trying to grab the tray from her.

“I said I got it.”

“Ma, it’s too heavy.”

“I got it, Caleb!”

“Let me help!”

With all the push and pull of the tray, my grip suddenly slips at the same time as hers, making the large bird fall ass-first to the floor.

“Look at what you’ve done! Dinner is ruined because of you!” she shouts, red-faced.

“It’s okay, Ma. Three-second rule, remember?” I joke before grabbing the turkey and placing it on an empty tray sitting on the kitchen counter.

“It’s so typical of you. You ruin everything and then act like it’s nothing. Well, it’s not nothing, Caleb! I will not feed my granddaughter’s trash that’s been on the floor.”

“Then we’ll just order in if that’s what you want. It’s not the end of the world, Ma.”

“And there you go again!” She scoffs. “You always have an answer for everything, don’t you? It’s always been so easy for you to shirk your responsibilities to someone else. Shit happens? That’s okay. Let someone else deal with the consequences.”

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