Page 27 of Told You So
“Mom found my cards,” he tells me. “Want to see?”
“I’d love to see your new cards, J.”
Ten
Bethany’s Journal
April 10th
Mom and Dad, thank you for asking about my day. My professor singled me out yesterday in front of the class, like always, because he doesn’t know that I have a controlling mother who only wants to talk to me in the mornings as I’m rushing out the door, making me late. And remember how I was so worried about him failing my paper I worked so hard on for extra credit? I actually did better on it than I thought I would. Oh wait, you don’t remember any of it because you’ve never asked.
Maybe one day I’ll actually write this. - B
Eleven
Bethany
Lying back on my bed, I stretch the stiffness from my body and flex my fingers and toes. Sitting cross-legged isn’t as easy as it used to be. With a sigh, I glance at my alarm clock and want to throw up. It’s nearly midnight, and I feel like I’ve only retained half the information I’ve processed over and over for the last three hours.
My Graduate Records Examination is coming up—only a couple weeks left before I know if I make a score decent enough to get me into an accredited psychology program...and I feel sick to my stomach.
I hate to admit that my dad is right in a sense. Double majoring seems like the dumbest idea on nights like these, but then, psychology is what I really care about. It’s what I want to do, and it wouldn’t be so stressful if that wasn’t the case. Design, that’s more for my parents—for my mom’s firm. I enjoy design, but I don’t want to work for her, and that type of work, well, it isn’t my passion.
School can’t be this difficult for everyone.Even double majors.Can it?I don’t understand why I struggle so much. It’s not for lack of trying. Too much on my mind and too many distractions, maybe...or, too much pressure. I heave out a sigh.All of the above.
I stare at my highlighted notecards and open textbooks. All I know for certain is, I need a break. Trying not to let my precarious notecard piles slide around, I climb off my bed. Milk and peanut butter cookies sound magical, and it just so happens, we have both.
When I open the door, I’m happy to see that Jesse’s bedroom light is off, which means he’s finally sleeping. Sleep isn’t usually a problem for him, except for nights after a big upset. Jesse’s always less predictable when my dad is home; his presence is a disturbance in the Force and Jesse is all about routine.
Tightening my ponytail, I make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. I relish the quiet hours when the house is silent, and I feel like I’m in my own little bubble. I hear a few muffled words in my parent’s master suite, though, and I’m not the only one awake. My parents rarely argue these days—they barely talk to each other—so when they do, I know things are bad. Unable to resist, I take a step closer.
“...you be a little more understanding?” my mom asks, and I like that she’s annoyed with him, even if she’d never confront him in front of us.
My dad doesn’t say anything, and for a minute, I panic that they know I’m outside their door.
“If I’m easy on him, he’ll stop trying to do better,” my dad finally says, and I roll my eyes. For being such an intelligent man, he’s stupid in so many ways, it’s actually cruel. I wonder if he’s ever once stopped to think about how his actions translate to Jesse.
“It doesn’t work like that, Charles,” my mom says evenly. “If you were around more, you’d actually see how well he’s doing. Every time you come home, you get him all riled up—” She stops abruptly, and I hear muffled movements before she speaks again. “If you’re angry with me, Charles, be angry with me. Leave the kids out of it. It’s not their fault,” she says more softly, maybe even a little desperate. “Jesse’s a boy, he needs a father, not a drill sergeant.”
“This is who I am, Laura. You knew what you were signing up for when we decided to make this work. I could’ve left, but I stayed—for you. Forthem.”
While the sharpness in his tone doesn’t surprise me, his words do. My parents are dysfunctional, but I didn’t realize my dad had made a decision tostay.
“You can’t make me a man I’m not, not after everything that’s happened. If you want Jesse to have a different father, then go find one. This is me, this is how I am. Period.”
My heart beats fervently, and I’m not even sure why. We’d all be happier if my mom left my dad, but something about this conversation doesn’t feel right.
“What about Bethany?” my mom asks.
“What about her?” The knot in my stomach returns and tightens at the coldness in his voice.
“You weren’t home ten minutes and you nearly had her in tears.” He doesn’t say anything.
I straighten and wipe away the unexpected dampness from my cheek.
“She’s still struggling, Charles.”
A dresser drawer closes, and my father finally speaks. “She’s always struggling.”
