Chapter 4
A thick layer of lint dust covered every surface of the office. The lease was up at the end of the month and Albert supposed that he would have to get it cleaned up before then. Since he had been spending most of his time working at RangeMan, Stephanie had suggested that he just move in there permanently as he was needed there as they prepared to help Tony. He had agreed and was excited at the prospect of continuing to work so close to her. The timing was perfect to leave his small office next to the Laundromat. However, all he wanted to do today was to spend some time alone.
With his sleeve, he wiped a large swath across the desk onto which he placed an old battered box. He placed his briefcase beside it. Albert slowly opened it and removed the latest letter that he had received. His hand trembled slightly as he handled the envelope. He knew this letter held information that he might not want to know about. Carefully he lifted the lid from the old box. The tape holding together one of the corners was yellowed and brittle, and brought back a flood of memories. Albert clearly remembered the day that the box got ripped.
He was 21, and had grown large enough that the old Thunder's jersey now fit him tight. But he was not wearing it; the shirt was in a heap on the floor where his mother had thrown it.
He had never seen her so angry, and he cursed at himself for having been so careless. But he really thought she would be gone to her bible group meeting and would not return for at least another hour. He thought that he would have enough time. Letters were scattered all over the room. She had grabbed them from his hand and flung them down onto the floor as well.
In his mind he could see her reaching for the box, she wanted to see what else he had hidden from her. Beside the letters, all she had seen was the jersey, and Albert didn't want her to see anything else. She held a vice like grip on the lid of the box, pulling it with all her might. Something in Albert snapped; he knew the exact moment that it happened. What he had in the box was private, these were his things, she had no right to demand anything, no right to judge him, and absolutely no right to treat him this way.
The look in her eyes, when he grabbed the box away from her and ordered her out of his room, still burned an image in his mind all these years later. It was the first time he had ever defended himself from her raging tantrums. It was the first time that he had shown any anger toward her, and it was a defining moment in his life, as well as hers. After her tirade and unjust accusations, Albert had had enough and he decided right then and there that he would follow his own path, his mother and her hang-ups be damned. That was the day he decided to order the correspondence course. The brochure had been in the bottom of the box. His mother didn't see it. It would be another 6 months before she discovered what he was up to.
The remnants of their relationship had been torn apart, just like the cardboard of his box. He was able to patch up the box. His connection with his mother could never be mended, but only because she wouldn't allow it. The fact that he had stayed with her in the house for so long, showed that at least he had been willing to try. She wouldn't, maybe she really couldn't.
Albert shook his head, not wanting to revisit those memories. Looking in his box now, he saw the neatly stacked letters, in chronological order. He looked at the jersey, folded so carefully. A large zip-lock bag held his other treasures, a mixture of childish trinkets and special mementos. And like the tassel from his graduation cap, they were all reminders of the moments that his father had not been able to be with him. He understood. He understood why his dad had to leave. In every letter that Albert gave to Mr. Jordan to send on to his father, he said as much.
Albert had thought that their letters had allowed them to have a connection, as fragile as it was. But as he stared at the letter now in his hand, he just knew that it was all going to change. He lowered himself into the chair and pulled a letter opener out of his drawer. With a controlled precision he slid the slender metal blade under the flap of the envelope. Pushing it along, he slowly ripped open the edge. He put the opener back in the drawer, aware that he was stalling.
Finally he pulled the letter from the envelope. He scanned the paper. As he had feared, it was not from his father. Mr. Jordan had written this note. From the scarcity of its content, it could only be considered to be a brief note. But each of the words carried such weight. With a few words of condolences, Mr. Jordan instructed Albert to contact the attorney whose information was listed on the sheet. Albert held the paper, looking at it, but not seeing it. His heart felt heavy, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. Tears welled in his eyes. Those few words tore away the hope, the dream that one day he would get to see his dad again.
He'd always harbored this fantasy of being invited to be part of his dad's world once more. Staying and taking care of his mother had kind of seemed like his part of the bargain, and he really thought that his dad would be back in his life someday. He had waited so many years for his father to hold up his end of the deal.
Albert took notes of the necessary information. Then he folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope, and put it in its place behind the other letters in the box. Standing, he replaced the lid and pushed the box aside. He threw the note he had made into the brief case and slammed it shut. He stood with his hands clenched. Emotions tore through him. Of course there was grief, and it was overwhelming. But then there were waves of hopelessness, regret, frustration, guilt, even bitter disappointment.
But the anger hit him hardest of all. He felt betrayed. That was it. First he felt betrayed when his father left. Then again when he realized that his mother was incapable of loving him. His anger grew, this was not fair, and now his dad was gone, it was so final and it felt like the ultimate betrayal. He wanted to be angry, to lash out. He would have punched the wall, he wanted to, but he knew he would only get hurt. And there it was, the truth he had always avoided putting into words.
Hurt.
He had been so hurt, and now he realized that he would rather be angry at his father than admit that he had been so deeply hurt by him.
He understood why his father left his mother. But he never understood how his dad could justify leaving him. That is what hurt. It always had. And now it always would.
Hot tears left his eyes. He wanted to say he was mad as hell. But all he could do was let the tears come. He cried now, he was like the 10 year old boy that had to grow up the day his dad left him. Didn't he know how much that would hurt him? Albert slumped back into the chair. He closed his eyes and covered his face with both hands, willing the pain to finally go away.
Somewhere in his consciousness he heard the loud sounds of the street outside, as someone opened the door. He did not move. Then he felt her presence, as she knelt down in front of him. She gently placed her hands over his.
"Albert," she whispered. "What's wrong?"
He allowed her to pull his hands from his face. She kept his hands in hers. He saw the question in her eyes. And at first he didn't know what to say, if there was anything to say. All he could do was look at her. And the most amazing thing happened. Staring into her eyes he saw the question turn into something else. Love. He saw her love for him radiating from her. It encompassed him, touching him to his very soul, and lifting him up like never before.
Without a word, she sat with him and pulled him into a hug. He tightened his arms around her, and buried his head into her shoulder. "Valerie," he whispered. It was all he could say, it was all that he needed to say. The anger melted. The hurt began to fade. She had given him what he needed most. What no one else had ever been able to. Finally he was able to breathe again. Secure in the knowledge that no matter what, with Valerie he was loved.