Page 112 of Easy Reunion
Epilogue
Kelsey- Five Years Later
“There are times when I reflect on my life and am in awe over the transformation of what was, what is, and what will be. Martha Beck said, ‘Any transition serious enough to alter your definition of self will require not just small adjustments in your way of living and thinking, but a full-on metamorphosis.’” Turning my head away from the teleprompter, my gaze roams the graduating class, who are eagerly listening to my words.
It’s been twenty years since I stood on this very stage. The last time I was here, I was broken. Instead, it was a gateway to my journey to the woman I am today. That has very little to do with my physical appearance and everything to do with the strength I’ve built inside of me.
“I was in the car the night my parents died. But long before the accident that took their lives, life was already seeping out of me. I remember it was my father who shamed my mother for her weight, blaming her for having me, and ultimately my life was the deterioration of their marriage. It was then that I started feeling a sense of guilt over body issues. Because I remember the emotional pain of those words.” You can hear the wind whispering through the microphone in front of me, the silence is so loud.
“In that split second before the car crashed, I was left with a final life lesson from my father—that not all people loved one another. But even at the age of thirteen, I realized, shouldn’t we respect each other? Particularly our children? The next thing I recall, I was awake, hurt, and crying. My grandparents were trying to assure me my injuries would heal, but how does one go about healing the wounds of a child’s heart?
“There’s nothing I can do about the absolute resentment I felt toward my father for his utter selfishness other than identify coping mechanisms. There’s nothing I can do about my emotions for my mother than feel devastating pity. I detest the fact that as a mature adult, I will never have the ability to confront them for the emotional burden they left me to carry. Like it or not, my father was my first bully. And he got away with it.
“I will be forever grateful to my grandparents for giving me the opportunities to fulfill my dreams. They did this by sending me to the best academic institution in the state of Georgia.” A loud cheer goes up from the audience, students, parents, and faculty alike. “To fulfill my dreams, I endured hell every single day in these hallowed halls.” A deathly silence again descends over the crowd. “I was shoved up against walls by the boys. The girls would call me names or make fun of me in class because I weighed more than they did. I didn’t have friends—after all, who would be willing to risk the wrath of the most popular cliques in school? I had no means with which to stand up for myself.
“I debated ending it all,” I admit brutally. With a shaking hand, I reach for a glass of water to my left and take a sip before continuing. “And one thing stopped me: the agony my grandparents would endure if that happened. So, instead of joining clubs or participating in sports, I buried myself in books where I could pretend to be anyone or do anything. In the world I lived in, I was the most popular girl in school, the prettiest, the most adored. In reality, day-to-day life found me exceptionally insecure. I dreamed of becoming the person everyone said I should have been, not the person I really was.”
Taking a deep breath, I look down at the audience. There’s a sea of royal blue. That was part of my request: I’d waive my standard speaking fees if the students were permitted to decorate their mortarboards in blue, breaking the century-long tradition of no enhancements to the black-and-white attire at graduation. This way, I could look out across the sea of blue and garner my strength for the speech on anti-bullying I was delivering to the students who would go out to shape the future.
“Standing where I am now, it must be hard to imagine all of this. Forsyth has such a strong stance against anti-bullying. In part, it’s because of what happened to so many of us all of those years ago.” With a quick glance to the side, I see my Ry nod slowly before mouthing, “I love you.” He’s holding our baby daughter in his arms. Just seeing them there settles the butterflies swirling inside of my stomach.
About a year after we got back to New Orleans from Ry’s trip to help young Logan, and after Ry spent time working with a counselor Morgan recommended, he proposed with his grandmother’s ring. “Here’s to knowing that with you by my side, I’ll win every single day,” Ry whispered right before he slid the antique diamond on my finger.
We were lying in the backyard at our house looking up at the stars through the leaf-covered branches of the summer trees when he asked. I sobbed out, “Yes.”
Our wedding we held at Commander’s Palace six months later was everything I dreamed of as Pop-pop walked me under the overhang of the beautiful tree in the courtyard into Ry’s waiting arms. Dancing under the twinkling lights in my husband’s arms well into the party, he whispered in my ear something that cemented the night as perfect. “Is it just me, or is Logan hitting on Max? Aren’t they a bit young?”
Tipping my head back, I pressed my lips against his lightly before whispering, “How old were we?”
“Point taken,” he said, before he took control of our kiss. Our guests got into the spirit of it by clinking cutlery against their glasses with enthusiasm.
“I was eating to mask the agony of my parents’ death. I ate to control the pain of what was happening at school. I was eating to camouflage the pain I couldn’t work out on my own but didn’t know how to reach out for help. The bullying got infinitely worse. Had I asked for it? Did God think this was what I deserved? Somewhere in my subconscious, I was pulled back from life. I was filling in the gaps of my life with food, wedged in every cheek and jowl.
“But there was one light. I followed it and hoped, prayed, that maybe God was listening to my heartbreak after all. Maybe he was sending me a response.
“I was wrong.” A huge gasp arises from the crowd. My eyes dart to the side. Ry is wiping the tears falling down his face. A serene smile that’s meant for him alone lightens my face. “Then.”
Facing the crowd, I plow on. “I ran from this stage after being subjected to brutality. I was devastated in ways I know some of you understand. Right here.” I lay my fist across my heart. “What I didn’t understand at the time is that bullying isn’t limited to one person. It isn’t limited to a person because of what they look like, where they live, or even who their friends are. The light I mentioned a few moments ago? He was bullied himself. And he was forced into doing something harmful to me to protect someone he loves.
“Even though it devastated me then, it set me on a path of necessary healing. We both would give so much to have found the love we now share without that in our past. But trust me, I don’t think it’s possible to love my husband more for standing up for his family. Then and now.” I turn to face him, and even though he’s holding precious cargo in the other, Ry and I are both swiping the tears off our faces. I take another drink of water before facing forward and continuing.
“I left for college scarred. But when I was at Pepperdine, I was finally granted an angel—my roommate, Angelina. It wasn’t long after that my grandfather and my grandmother decided to move away from their home so they could see me. They, too, were victims of the bullies that brutalized my life.” Fiercely, I bite out, “Don’t let bullies rob you of life’s precious moments. I could have argued with them and been strong enough to have flown back over breaks, but I wasn’t. I left the day after graduation and swore I never was coming back. They believed me, and because they loved me, they made it so I could still have a home.” I wipe my eyes, the next part the hardest for me to admit.
“My senior year of college, Angelina—who was a nutritional science major—found me a job working for a wildly famous bariatric surgeon. Let me state, this was not what I wanted to be doing in my life.” There’s a titter through the crowd. “I mean, you’re all going to be getting jobs eventually. When it comes time to call a doctor’s office to schedule an appointment, please—for all that’s good in the world—be kind to the person on the other end of the phone. And while you’re at it, most customer service people have it pretty tough. Cut them some slack,” I add jokingly.
The room laughs like I was hoping they would. Because what I’m about to say is about to get very real.
“I worked in a job I never dreamed to be doing for two years because I wanted to stop being bullied.” The room goes eerily silent. “I worked for Dr. Toli so I could save up enough money after insurance coverage to have gastric bypass surgery. I slaved away during the day, being abused by callers who assumed I must be fat to work there, only to go home and write like a demon every night. But that wasn’t the worst of it.
“I had to weigh in before surgery. I weighed almost a half of a ton at 458 pounds. I was a size 6X. I could not walk from one side of a room to another without feeling as if I was going to collapse. Yet, I remember proudly stripping naked and climbing onto an operating table so a surgical team of doctors could work on me for nine hours to hopefully give me life.
“I remember asking the anesthesiologist to make me beautiful right before the mask was lowered onto my face. And do you know what he said? I already was.” Closing the folio in front of me, I work solely off the prompter.
“You all already are.” One girl, whose hair is a gorgeous shade of blonde, is shaking her head back and forth. I grab the mic and walk down the steps on the side of the stage. “Yes, you. All of you. Do you realize you are the next generation of honesty, trust, faith, and loyalty that Forsyth has been trying to instruct over the last four years?” People start twisting as I walk around the graduating class of 2025. “You have all the tools right now you’ll need to make the changes in the world that are the most important.” Facing toward the stage, I say huskily, “You have the heart.” I begin to make my way back onto the stage.
As I pass by Ry on my way up the steps, his hand reaches out to snag mine. I grip it tightly even though the connection is brief. A million words and a thousand heartbeats pass through us in that single touch. Quickly climbing up the stairs, I start speaking into the mic before I even put my foot down on the stage. “Matthew 7 says, ‘Ask, and it shall be given you; Seek, and ye shall find; Knock, and it shall be opened unto you.’ I didn’t ask for help and almost lost everything. Instead of opening up my heart, instead of trusting my grandparents, my teachers, maybe someone who genuinely wanted to be a friend, I almost ruined everything, If you get nothing out of what I say today, find your person who you trust with everything so they can listen to you with an open heart.” I give the nod to the AV guys just off to the left. “I’d like everyone to listen to this song. It says more than my words can. The lyrics are printed in the back of today’s graduation booklet with permission by the artist.”
“Grey Street” by the Dave Matthews Band begins to play. Turning off the microphone, I slide it back into place.
