Page 84 of Wrap Around
After dinner, my father reads from his favorite passage in the bible, Jeremiah. As always, I feel his words like a sharpened knife along my skin. His reading speaks of disobedience to God and devotion to family, the scripture obviously chosen to make apoint to his wayward children who have left home to pursue their own hopes and dreams outside of this house, this church, this community. Far, far away where we aren’t guilted into covering up the realest parts of ourselves.
I’m not sure how I’m going to get through tomorrow without having a breakdown. Morning devotionals will start early, before dawn, followed by a sunrise worship and a day full of Bible study and discussion, reflection, and prayer.
It’s the longest Sabbath of my life, and all weekend my knees hurt like never before.
Three days, and there’s still no light on the horizon to suggest we’ll be out of here anytime soon. I’ve been avoiding calls and texts from Silas, my teammates, Coach, and the owners of the team. I’m also no longer listening to my voicemails since listening to the one Dr. Shelton left me yesterday, where she so kindly reminded me that my harmful, self-sabotaging behavior—her words—are only going to continue to make my life more difficult. But honestly, what was I supposed to do? If Coach wasn’t going to let me take one game off, how was I supposed to expect any better for the last three games of the season? Not going back to Tennessee with my sister wasn't an option, and honestly, my time with the Red Valley Blaze was probably not going to be much longer anyway. I might as well get it over with and stop worrying over if or when I’d be traded or fired.
I’m where I need to be right now, I know that much.
Lily is fading.
I see it in the way she folds in on herself with each and every comment or correction over her parenting choices. The way she speaks more softly, like she doesn’t believe she deserves to beheard. The way she apologizes for her daughter acting her age, even though Addy is honestly taking all of these changes really well. But in a world where children are meant to be seen and not heard, and are meant to conform, not stand out, Addy is a wild card. She laughs loudly, plays hard, and has big feelings exactly the way children are supposed to, but we were raised to stand against the wall and not speak unless spoken to.
We took our mom to an appointment with her actual physician today, and that’s adding to the stress of the situation. There’s no easy solution in sight, especially for our mother, who is being so stubborn she might actually kill herself.
She has severe diverticulitis and an abscess in her stomach that is in rough shape. If she doesn’t have surgery soon, the abscess could rupture, and she could become septic. She’s a ticking time bomb that will eventually end up in the hospital one way or another. If it’s not getting the surgery that she needs, then it’ll be the morgue.
Despite all the ways we’ve tried to reason with her, Mom is being belligerent in her stubbornness. She’s insisting it’s just indigestion despite looking like a corpse.
With the help of her physician, who is a member of our church, we talked through everything from the consequences of not getting proper treatment, to the SDA church’s official stance on medical treatment. Because despite a handful of people like Dr. Baker and Elder Caldwell, and apparently my mother, the SDA church is in no way against modern medicine and encourages us to follow current medical standards and practices. We pulled up the official website and everything.
Our stress only worsened when we arrived home to yelling, and walked in on Sister Paula standing over Addy with a familiar wooden paddle in her hand.
Oh, hell no.
“What the hell is going on here?” I bellowed, my deep voice echoing off the wood paneled walls and linoleum flooring.
All hell broke loose. Lily leapt into action, grabbing her daughter and sweeping her away from the older woman. Sister Paula sputtered indignantly and went off about willful, disobedient children.
“We don’t hit our children,” Lily said firmly, looking over her crying daughter, who seemed to be unhurt, but understandably upset.
Sister Paula looked like we might have just told her we feed Addy nothing but bowls of pure, granulated sugar and let her drink booze. It’s probably a good thing that our mother needed me to keep my hands on her, steadying her and helping her into a chair. I’ve never in my life wanted to strangle an old church lady before, but I was on the edge.
“If you ever lay a hand on my daughter again, I swear to God–”
My mother’s gasp over Lily using God’s name in vain, rather than reacting to the old woman about to beat her grandchild for getting crayon marks on the hardwood floors, probably would have sent me into a rage of my own. But it was Lily that made me start moving us to the exit.
She was shaking, red-faced, and furious, with tears streaming down her face. I saw more than the obvious—her fight, her fear, her fury—I saw how it was all going to turn and be used against her. The way our parents and the other elders would gaslight her until she was tamed and controllable again.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go for a drive.”
Things are a little calmer now. I drove us to the next town over, seeking some perspective outside of the small community we grew up in, where everyone knows everyone. We’ve been isolated and bombarded since arriving, and it’s come to a head.
Adaline is all smiles again, her face covered in chocolate from her ice cream cone, while she squeals and jumps around inside the cloud of bubbles I blow in her path. Hell yes, I’m spoiling her. She deserves it right now, if only to distract her from the fear she experienced today. I’m not a parent, and I can’t say that I could make a determination for every parent and every child about how they choose to discipline their children, but Addy is only three and is a delightful child. I’m still murderous that anyone would think to hit her for any reason, much less because she made a little mess.
Lily is sitting on a bench, looking pensive but smiling, as she watches on. I look back to check on her every few minutes, but my focus is mostly on Addy.
Until a guy shows up, and Lily stands to greet him with a hug. They talk for a while, gesturing and laughing, while I watch on from afar. Eventually, Lily gestures towards us and the man turns in our direction.
Zac is taller than I remember, although still only a little taller than Lily. He’s filled out some, wiry rather than skinny, and his previously always messy, frizzy hair has been cut into a style that works for his wild curls. He still wears thick-framed glasses, but they’re a bit more stylish than the huge round frames he used to wear that made him look like an owl.
Addy and I walk over to say hello, although she mostly ignores him and pulls me to the ground with her to blow more bubbles. I’m half listening to Zac tell Lily about college and she tells him a little about their life in Canada. It’s clear from her posture and the animated way she talks that she’s excited to see her old friend, but I notice she’s not very forthcoming with details about her own life, redirecting the conversation to talk about him instead. I know how upset she was when everyone seemed to turn their backs on her, so it makes sense that she’d be more guarded.
When I overhear when Zac bringing up the past, my ears perk up when he apologizes for leaving.
“I didn’t want to go, especially without even getting to say goodbye, but they were adamant. And I realize now that I let them convince me you wouldn’t want to be my friend now that you had Silas.”
“Just because I married Silas doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be your friend,” she says gently.
