Jack looked at her as though he was unsure of what she was saying. "You
tell them why you ran out, or I'll do it for you," Sara told him.
"Tell us Dad," Sydney said softly.
Sydney watched her father as his memory went back forty-one years to recall events that he worked so hard to forget. He closed his eyes as he started to slowly recount the details of that day.
School let out at 11:30 due to the Thanksgiving holiday. On his way home from school Jack ran into his cousins Carolyn and Neil. They were heading for the park to help put the finishing touches on the float that their school was entering into the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Carolyn tried to talk Jack into going with them, but as usual, he said no.
He walked home alone. He wondered what would be waiting for him when he got there. Would his mother still be in the high sprits that she had been in for the last few weeks, or would her dark state return?
His path home from school took him past Parker's Bar. He peeked into the window to see if his father was there. He saw him standing at the bar, talking and laughing with a group of men. Jack wondered what his father had to laugh about, considering how messed up their life was.
When he arrived home, he entered the house through the front door. He immediately sensed that something was wrong, as the day's mail had been dropped in the middle of the living room floor. He took his jacket off and hung it up in the front closet. He then picked the mail up off the floor and placed it on the coffee table.
He walked slowly through the living and dining room and toward the kitchen. He pushed the swinging door open slowly. He looked in the kitchen and saw his mother with her head down on the kitchen table. She looked as though she was resting.
"Mom, he called out cautiously. "Are you ok?"
She lifted her head when she heard him calling her. He was startled by the paleness of her face.
He stepped closer. "Mom, what's wrong?"
"Get away from me," she said quietly. He continued to approach her. As he did, she raised a knife that was in her hand. "I said get away from me."
He stopped when he saw the knife and blood running down her arm. "Mom, your bleeding. What's wrong?"
She answered him by once again ordering him to leave the room.
Jack quickly realized what she had done. He rushed over to the phone that was hanging on the wall.
He picked up the receiver and attempted to call for help.
"What are you doing?" she yelled to him.
"I'm calling the police. You need help. You have to get to the hospital," he told her.
His back was turned to her as he dialed for the operator. Before the operator had a chance to answer Rebecca had rushed over to him and grabbed the phone out of his hand. She viciously slammed the receiver back onto the hook. "You're not calling anyone. They'll never lock me up. Do you understand? Now I told you to get the hell out of here!"
"But Mom, you're sick. You need help," he said reaching for the phone again.
She raised the knife and moved forward pinning him against the counter and blocking his access to the phone. "This is all your fault," she shouted at him. "I wasn't like this before you were born. It should have been you that died not my Sean."
Jack screamed out in pain when she brought the knife down and it penetrated his upper arm.
The last thing he heard as he ran through the front door was his mother yelling at him to get out, "And don't ever come back."
What he didn't hear her say, as she sat back down at the table, was, "Please go before I hurt you anymore."
"See, Sydney, I found her that hour earlier. If I would have called for help, she could be alive today. But instead I ran out on her. I left her alone, to bleed to death."
Then he looked over at his father and waited for his reaction.
Don said nothing. He never knew any of that. He thought the blood on the telephone meant that at one point Rebecca had considered calling for help. This revelation was making a lot of things more clear.
Sara picked up the story where Jack left off. She told them that when she came home from shopping that day she found Jack sitting on the back porch shivering as he had no jacket on and the temperature was 45 degrees. He had blood all over his shirt. Her first thought was that he had gotten into to a fight.
He told her that something was wrong with his mother and she needed to hurry over to help her.
"That's how I came to find her," Sara told them.
After Rebecca was taken away Sara returned to the house to take care of Jack. She found him still sitting on the back porch. "I think he was going into shock. I took him into the house to wash him up and that's when I saw the cut on his arm. I wanted to take him to the hospital, to have it taken care of, but he refused."
"No Aunt Sara," young Jack told her. "If anyone finds out what she did, they'll lock her up. They can't lock her up. Please don't tell anyone." He kept pleading with her until she finally promised that she would never tell anyone that his mother stabbed him or that he found her first. It was a promise she would keep for the next 41 years.
Tears welled up in Sydney's eyes as her father and then her aunt gave details of what happened.
"Dad," she thought to herself, "no wonder trust comes so hard to you."
This was the first time her father had ever shared anything so private with her. Once again she laid her hand on his knee and said, "Thank you Dad, for telling me."
While talking to him, Sydney noticed that Jack was looking over at Don. He was waiting for a reaction from him. When Don didn't react, Sydney said to him, "Grandfather, are you alright?'
Don looked at Sara and addressed his remarks to her. "I was just wondering why you thought you had the right to keep something like that from me?"
"I promised him," Sara said, thinking that was all the explanation that he needed.
Sydney noticed Don putting on the same icy demeanor that he had when he first encountered her father earlier in the day. "You made a promise to a twelve year old. I was his father. You had no right to keep something that important from me."
"Don, please." Sara tried to reason with him, "He was scared for Rebecca. You know her fear of being locked up."
"She was dead for god sake," he yelled at her. "She couldn't have been locked up, could she? And even if she had lived, the two of you didn't trust me enough to protect my wife?"
Jack attempted to defend his aunt, "Don't blame this on her," he told his father.
Barely controlling the anger and hurt that was building up in him, Don said, "Trust me, I don't blame her for all of it. You're just as much to blame as she is. You never trusted me with anything, did you?"
Then standing up, Don told them, "Now I have something to tell the two of you. I talked to Rebecca before she died. Thanks to your cover up, I misunderstood what she was telling me. I always thought she was trying to say that she was sorry for killing herself, but I now understand what she was really trying to tell me."
He tried to remain calm as he continued to describe the message his wife so desperately wanted him to deliver to their son. "What she said was, 'Tell Johnny I'm sorry. That I didn't mean it. That I love him.' She wasn't talking about being sorry for trying to kill herself. She wanted me to tell you that she was sorry for what she did to you."
Don headed for the front door. Before leaving he turned to Jack and said, "But considering you didn't trust me enough to confide in me and your aunt fed into your insecurities, I was never able to relay the message to you, until now."
"Wait," Sara said walking over to him. "Don't leave."
"Let go of my arm," he told her as she grabbed a hold of him. "This conversation is over," he said as he walked out of the house.
"Tell us Dad," Sydney said softly.
Sydney watched her father as his memory went back forty-one years to recall events that he worked so hard to forget. He closed his eyes as he started to slowly recount the details of that day.
School let out at 11:30 due to the Thanksgiving holiday. On his way home from school Jack ran into his cousins Carolyn and Neil. They were heading for the park to help put the finishing touches on the float that their school was entering into the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Carolyn tried to talk Jack into going with them, but as usual, he said no.
He walked home alone. He wondered what would be waiting for him when he got there. Would his mother still be in the high sprits that she had been in for the last few weeks, or would her dark state return?
His path home from school took him past Parker's Bar. He peeked into the window to see if his father was there. He saw him standing at the bar, talking and laughing with a group of men. Jack wondered what his father had to laugh about, considering how messed up their life was.
When he arrived home, he entered the house through the front door. He immediately sensed that something was wrong, as the day's mail had been dropped in the middle of the living room floor. He took his jacket off and hung it up in the front closet. He then picked the mail up off the floor and placed it on the coffee table.
He walked slowly through the living and dining room and toward the kitchen. He pushed the swinging door open slowly. He looked in the kitchen and saw his mother with her head down on the kitchen table. She looked as though she was resting.
"Mom, he called out cautiously. "Are you ok?"
She lifted her head when she heard him calling her. He was startled by the paleness of her face.
He stepped closer. "Mom, what's wrong?"
"Get away from me," she said quietly. He continued to approach her. As he did, she raised a knife that was in her hand. "I said get away from me."
He stopped when he saw the knife and blood running down her arm. "Mom, your bleeding. What's wrong?"
She answered him by once again ordering him to leave the room.
Jack quickly realized what she had done. He rushed over to the phone that was hanging on the wall.
He picked up the receiver and attempted to call for help.
"What are you doing?" she yelled to him.
"I'm calling the police. You need help. You have to get to the hospital," he told her.
His back was turned to her as he dialed for the operator. Before the operator had a chance to answer Rebecca had rushed over to him and grabbed the phone out of his hand. She viciously slammed the receiver back onto the hook. "You're not calling anyone. They'll never lock me up. Do you understand? Now I told you to get the hell out of here!"
"But Mom, you're sick. You need help," he said reaching for the phone again.
She raised the knife and moved forward pinning him against the counter and blocking his access to the phone. "This is all your fault," she shouted at him. "I wasn't like this before you were born. It should have been you that died not my Sean."
Jack screamed out in pain when she brought the knife down and it penetrated his upper arm.
The last thing he heard as he ran through the front door was his mother yelling at him to get out, "And don't ever come back."
What he didn't hear her say, as she sat back down at the table, was, "Please go before I hurt you anymore."
"See, Sydney, I found her that hour earlier. If I would have called for help, she could be alive today. But instead I ran out on her. I left her alone, to bleed to death."
Then he looked over at his father and waited for his reaction.
Don said nothing. He never knew any of that. He thought the blood on the telephone meant that at one point Rebecca had considered calling for help. This revelation was making a lot of things more clear.
Sara picked up the story where Jack left off. She told them that when she came home from shopping that day she found Jack sitting on the back porch shivering as he had no jacket on and the temperature was 45 degrees. He had blood all over his shirt. Her first thought was that he had gotten into to a fight.
He told her that something was wrong with his mother and she needed to hurry over to help her.
"That's how I came to find her," Sara told them.
After Rebecca was taken away Sara returned to the house to take care of Jack. She found him still sitting on the back porch. "I think he was going into shock. I took him into the house to wash him up and that's when I saw the cut on his arm. I wanted to take him to the hospital, to have it taken care of, but he refused."
"No Aunt Sara," young Jack told her. "If anyone finds out what she did, they'll lock her up. They can't lock her up. Please don't tell anyone." He kept pleading with her until she finally promised that she would never tell anyone that his mother stabbed him or that he found her first. It was a promise she would keep for the next 41 years.
Tears welled up in Sydney's eyes as her father and then her aunt gave details of what happened.
"Dad," she thought to herself, "no wonder trust comes so hard to you."
This was the first time her father had ever shared anything so private with her. Once again she laid her hand on his knee and said, "Thank you Dad, for telling me."
While talking to him, Sydney noticed that Jack was looking over at Don. He was waiting for a reaction from him. When Don didn't react, Sydney said to him, "Grandfather, are you alright?'
Don looked at Sara and addressed his remarks to her. "I was just wondering why you thought you had the right to keep something like that from me?"
"I promised him," Sara said, thinking that was all the explanation that he needed.
Sydney noticed Don putting on the same icy demeanor that he had when he first encountered her father earlier in the day. "You made a promise to a twelve year old. I was his father. You had no right to keep something that important from me."
"Don, please." Sara tried to reason with him, "He was scared for Rebecca. You know her fear of being locked up."
"She was dead for god sake," he yelled at her. "She couldn't have been locked up, could she? And even if she had lived, the two of you didn't trust me enough to protect my wife?"
Jack attempted to defend his aunt, "Don't blame this on her," he told his father.
Barely controlling the anger and hurt that was building up in him, Don said, "Trust me, I don't blame her for all of it. You're just as much to blame as she is. You never trusted me with anything, did you?"
Then standing up, Don told them, "Now I have something to tell the two of you. I talked to Rebecca before she died. Thanks to your cover up, I misunderstood what she was telling me. I always thought she was trying to say that she was sorry for killing herself, but I now understand what she was really trying to tell me."
He tried to remain calm as he continued to describe the message his wife so desperately wanted him to deliver to their son. "What she said was, 'Tell Johnny I'm sorry. That I didn't mean it. That I love him.' She wasn't talking about being sorry for trying to kill herself. She wanted me to tell you that she was sorry for what she did to you."
Don headed for the front door. Before leaving he turned to Jack and said, "But considering you didn't trust me enough to confide in me and your aunt fed into your insecurities, I was never able to relay the message to you, until now."
"Wait," Sara said walking over to him. "Don't leave."
"Let go of my arm," he told her as she grabbed a hold of him. "This conversation is over," he said as he walked out of the house.