Page 92 of Double Take

Her soft statement held more than just words and struck him right in the heart. He glanced at her. “You’re not a victim. Bad stuff has happened to you, but I wouldn’t call you a victim. At least not in the sense that I think you mean.”

“I would. I’ve been a victim all my life.” She paused. “Or doormat might actually be a more accurate description.” He laughed. He couldn’t help it. She shot him a disgruntled look. “Well, thank you. I appreciate that you find this so funny.”

“I’m not laughing atyou, I’m laughing because I’m kind of shocked you could ever consider yourself a doormat. You’ve never had a victim mentality, so I guess that’s why I don’t consider you a victim—ora doormat. Didn’t we have this conversation already? You don’t have quit or doormat in you.”

“But I am.”

He frowned, wondering if and how he could convince her. “Tell me why you see yourself that way, and I guarantee I can refute every single thing you come up with and convince you you’re wrong about yourself.”

“You really think you can convince me, huh?”

“I know I can.”

“All right, then. Challenge accepted. I was born to dysfunctional parents who thought the end of the world was just around the corner. My dad finally wised up and quit that nonsense, but for a few years it was ... rough. We were yanked out of our schools where we had friends and were involved in activities we loved. My lessons consisted of wilderness survival and being paranoid of any government entity or church. My dad was so skeptical of anything related to church or God, I only found Jesus because I went looking for him.”

“How’d you find him?”

She smiled. “I had a sixth-grade teacher who was the kindest, most gentle man I ever met. One day, I walked out of the woods after a lesson on how to skin a deer—during which I puked, by the way—and hitchhiked into town. I knew the school schedule and waited until Mr. Flanders walked out to the parking lot. He was surprised and happy to see me, and I just flat-out asked him why he was the way he was. What made him care so much about his students.”

“What’d he say?”

“He told me teaching was his calling. His ministry. He pulled an old, worn Bible out of his backpack and handed it to me. Told me to start with John. Then he gave me his phone number and said if I had any questions I could call him or his wife.”

“Wow.”

“I know. I still talk to them occasionally.”

“And now your parents and sister are believers. Once your dadcame to know the Lord, he stopped with all the end-of-the-world mentality, right?”

“He did. He still loves the outdoors, of course, but he’s channeling it in a better way. My mother, however, still has a long way to go. As I mentioned before, Ellen is still dealing with her anger issues, and she, Brent, and Grant still dump on me because I let them. They’re angry at our parents. So very angry. They expect me to be the one to take care of whatever our parents need and to leave them alone. As a result, I never ask them for anything.”

“Never?”

“Well, after being told no over and over, I quit asking. Mostly. So, I guess I do have some quit in me despite what you think.”

“Hmm. What about holidays? Don’t you get together?”

“No, not usually. I mean, I go see Mom and Dad, and Ellen comes in. I’ll give her props for trying, but it doesn’t usually end well. She knows how much time I’ve spent working to clean a path from the foyer to the dining room to the kitchen, and she can’t stand all the stuff she knows is behind the closed doors. My brothers are busy with their own families, and they’ve said they don’t want their kids knowing how sick their grandparents are. So they stay away. Even Grant, who only lives about fifteen minutes from them.”

Wow. He had no idea she was living—and dealing—with so much. “What if you didn’t give them a choice?”

“I tried that. Not exactly on purpose, but ... Dad was out of town on one of his outdoor leadership camping trips, I had two days of training I had to do, so I asked Grant to check on Mom. He said he would, then at the last minute said he couldn’t. I told him he had to because I wasn’t even in town. He refused to go by, and Mom wound up running her credit card up to the limit because she saw something—a lot of somethings—on the shopping channel that she had to have. All of the items reminded her of her father. When my dad saw the bill, he blew a fuse. I was there when he saw it. He checks the card every day because of her. I thought he was going to pack his bags and walk away right then and there.”

He winced and tried to find the right words. “I’m very sorry. That’s hard, on everyone. But how is that your responsibility?”

“I just feel like it is, I guess. Isn’t that honoring my mother and father?”

“Honoring them?” He paused. “I’m honestly not sure of the answer to that. At what point is it not honoring but enabling?”

“But if I can stop her from doing that? Shouldn’t I at least try?”

He didn’t know. He’d always been a big proponent of “natural consequences,” but where did that fall in the realm of mental illness? He was starting to see why she felt like she was such a doormat, though. “You love your family. It’s only natural that you want to help.” But again, where did she draw the line?

“Of course I do, but I convinced myself that I loved Adam too. And I let him walk all over me. So, is that it? If I love someone, I’m bound to become their doormat? I let myself just be ... controlled? Sure seems that way.”

“You really believe that?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know. If I were listening to someone who was saying the things I am, I’d think they were blowing the situation out of proportion, but...” She shrugged and sighed, looking away. “Whatever the truth is, I won’t be a victim anymore.” She paused, then cut her eyes at him. “Nice effort, but you still haven’t convinced me I’m not a doormat.”

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