The Treasure of Memories
He Hates Me
The day was warm, hot for May. We had arrived early to find good seats, where we would be stuck sitting for much longer than I would like. But this was Liam's graduation, his college graduation, and I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Jay had even silenced his phone, told everyone he was off the grid for the afternoon.
My husband, who could sit in silence and calmly wait for an eternity, melted into his chair and seemed to be looking at everything and nothing, all at the same time. I suppose it is from years of combat and stakeouts, watching, waiting, focused.
But I don't seem to have the same skill-set, and fidget as my mind wanders back to our early days, to when Liam was young. To times when we struggled, to times when we were joyous. When I saw Jay at his worst and when he learned of all my secrets. To the decision that I struggled with, the debate a constant in my mind. But in the end we made it and now our son was taking the next step in his life.
The ceremony is in its beginning stages and I have flashbacks to Liam's high school graduation, with over one thousand kids crossing that stage, receiving what they earned and doing with a pride and pace that they deserved, but caused me leg cramps and anxiety. I imagine it comes from the constant ache of looking over my shoulder and wondering if the person that had vanished around the corner was meaningful, or simply a pedestrian going about his day. Staying in one place had always been difficult, and marrying, buying a home and putting down roots nearly cost me my sanity at times. But I persevered, though it hadn't always been easy. My mind drifts from me to the past. We are still on the speeches, not even close to the students personal moments yet and I allow myself this remembrance.
Liam is five and we have just moved the final boxes in the our new apartment. Jay and I had decided to try living together. With our combined incomes we found a bigger place on a somewhat quiet street near a park with lots of children and a great elementary school. Liam was continually surprised every time Jay was there in the morning and when he was home before bedtime. He just couldn't comprehend that we were all living together.
"Like Josie's parents," he said one evening as we ate dinner. "You live together like her parents," he said.
"Yes, like Josie's parents," I agreed. He had just been to her house for a birthday party and as he visited other children's houses, he realized, that indeed, some mommies and daddies did actually live together.
Jay laughed and pointed his fork at Liam and told him, that daddy wasn't going anywhere so he better get used to it. Liam got up from his chair and walked over to his father and wrapped his arms around his waist and said that he had better not now that he was used to it.
Now I recall our small wedding at the courthouse. Liam is six, in khaki pants, a blue button down shirt and clip- on tie he won't leave alone. Will is chaperoning him so Jay and I can focus on each other. I hear chatter all around me as we wait, but suddenly my soon to be brother-in-law's voice comes through loud and clear. "Leave your tie on buddy."
"I don't like it," my son states, his face matching his complaint, his fingers tugging on the particular trapping.
Will squatted down and adjusted the small tie and looked Liam in the eye. "Today is a special day for your mommy and daddy and it's important for you to look nice."
"Like you look nice?" Liam asked tugging on Will's tie.
"Yes. I bet you can do this for them, can't you?"
He looked up at me and dropped his arms and I caught Jay winking at him. "Good boy," Will said as we were asked to take our spots.
It almost went off without a hitch, but when Liam went to hand Jay my ring he dropped it and it rolled away, with Liam in hot pursuit. It ended up coming to a stop by a large planter where he banged his head but swallowed his tears, stating this was his parents special day. He came back opening his tiny hand, the gold band shining, but now complete with dust bunnies, we couldn't help but laugh.
Then the more difficult times come into my mind. The moment that Jay lost his battle with PTSD and left us all in tears.
But I wasn't ready to think about that yet. As the speaker droned on about promising futures and a world that was ripe for the picking, blah, blah, blah, I went back to five year old Liam and his adjustment period.
He loved having us both together, but at the same time he had his moments. He would wiggle in-between us when we sat on the couch. He would cling to me and say no Daddy allowed. He would cling to Jay and say no Mommy allowed. It was then we realized that when we were separated he had each one of us to himself, and of course he had to figure out his emotions in having to share us with each other. But he did adapt, and soon it seemed as if this had been our lives from the beginning.
We were the little family that could, dodging our lies and secrets to protect our son from the past. Jay had secrets just as I did. Bad days on the job that he refused to share. Nightmares that had him a tangled mess, the certain lies he spouted by saying he didn't recall any of them. I had my fair share too, of both nightmares and lies. Lies of omission about the possible danger we were all in. I was ever vigilant and it was draining, but it gave me understanding of Jay's constant exhaustion from the job and the vigilance it required.
Liam was well loved, but had to deal with two parents that were constantly lost in their own thoughts. He was a smart kid, and knew we weren't always authentic. He purposely pushed our buttons, or perhaps he was just the typical mischievous kid with parents ill equipped to deal with it. But one night, Jay lost a piece of himself and tested us all.
I was still trying to figure out the noise I had heard, but Jay was already out of bed and pulling the lockbox that held his service weapon out of the closet. My heart began to pound as he freed it and pulled on a pair of pants and disappeared.
I didn't know what to do at first but hearing another series of loud bangs my instincts kicked in. I grabbed my robe as I looked out the window and saw Jay and a couple of other figures in the street. I couldn't quite tell what was going on, but the bangs had stopped and I could only hear Jay's voice.
I went to Liam's room, but found it empty. I looked under the bed, but no boy, I then ran to the closet, figuring he had to be hiding after hearing the noises, but he wasn't in the closet either. I ran to the bathroom and just as I realized he wasn't in there either I heard Jay come back into the house and saw he had our son by the arm.
"What the hell were you thinking," he yelled.
Liam was practically limp as he hung down at his father's side. He was barely seven years old and had absolutely no business being outside at this time of night. I still had no idea of what had been going on out there, but clearly it hadn't been good.
Not letting go of him, Jay set his gun on top of the bookshelf and then began to discipline Liam. At first it started out as a couple of swats and I was more than okay with that. There was no excuse that I could think of for being outside in the middle of the night. But Jay was now picking up steam, the few reminders had turned into a full blown spanking, I was still onboard, but less so. I was certain Jay would stop, that he was in control, but as I looked at his face I realized my husband was no longer there. I had done my fair share of reading about PTSD and its effects. I recalled the part on rage, how the sufferer would fall into an anger that they had no control over. It could be triggered by just about anything and they lost sight of the significance of what had caused them to react. They just found themselves displaced by an anger that was coursing through their veins and controlling their actions.
Liam was sagging, the only thing holding him up was Jay's grip. I screamed out for him to stop, but he didn't hear me, couldn't hear me. I stepped over and pushed him several times and it was only then that he seemed to understand what was happening. I grabbed for Liam, who was crying and came to me where I embraced him as we backed away from Jay.
Jay looked as if he had been teleported into a situation he knew nothing about. "He had firecrackers, they were throwing firecrackers in the street," he said to nobody in particular. I held onto Liam and began to make our way to his room as I watched Jay fall to his knees, his face crumple, as the reality of what had happened became clear.
As I closed the bedroom door, I could hear Jay yell out he that he was sorry, so sorry. I left Liam on his bed and ran to the bathroom for a warm washcloth and returned to find my son hugging his knees to his chest, his tears still falling. I sat down next to him and held him tightly. I was pretty certain that Jay had snapped out of it and probably wouldn't come in. I'm sure he wouldn't be looking to do any further harm, but right now the last thing Liam needed was a tearful father begging forgiveness adding to the chaos. We had taken the lock off of Liam's door when we moved in and he had locked us out in the midst of a tantrum. But if there had been one, I would have used it.
After several minutes, Liam had calmed enough for me to wipe his face and sit far enough away from him that I could read his expression. He looked exhausted, uncertain and terrified. I imagined that Jay's face reflected the same.
"Tell me what happened," I asked as he pulled his blankets into his lap.
"Jeff and Jerry said I was too little to do it, that I'd be asleep, so I proved that I wasn't too little." He said as he continued to sniff and snuffle.
Jeff and Jerry Rutherford. Brothers from down the street, one was ten and one was eleven or twelve. I could never keep them straight. Their mother worked full-time and often cared for her sick mother across town, leaving her exhausted, while their father worked the graveyard shift. It left the boys up to their own devices on a regular basis and they would occasionally find trouble.
"Tell me what happened." I encourage again.
"They said they had surprise but I couldn't see because I was a baby. But if I wasn't scared to come outside at 1:00, but not in the daytime, cause it had to be dark. So I stayed awake and when it became 1:00 I snuck outside."
"And then what? What were they doing?"
"They had those packs of fire things that Daddy doesn't like. Not fireworks, but the other things."
"Firecrackers?"
"Yeah. I didn't know that's what they were going to do, I swear. I didn't do any of them either. I swear on that too."
"Okay. So Daddy came out and caught you?"
He looked away but finally swung his head back in my direction and nodded. "He was fast. Suddenly he was just there. I told them to be quiet that Daddy didn't like the noise, but they didn't care. Now Daddy hates me."
"He doesn't hate you. What happened when he came outside?"
Liam shuddered as he sighed, his breath still struggling for normalcy. "He had his gun, he had it up at first but then put it down and grabbed my arm really, really hard and pulled me towards him. Then he told the boys they better get home right now. He was so mad, they ran hard. Then he brought me inside and then—then what you saw." He finished, looking back down at his blankets.
"Are you okay?"
"Why did he do that? Why? So many times and so hard?"
I paused, trying to find the right words.
"Cause he was scared?" Liam asked, his tears falling again.
"Yes. But there's more. You've heard of PTSD. It stands for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."
"He got it in the war," Liam answered, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand, remembering our discussions about the disorder.
"He got it because of the war. Sometimes when people see really difficult things, it stays with them inside their head and when something happens—"
"Something scary?"
"Oftentimes, yes. When it happens they kind of forget where they are and what is really happening. Sometimes it just makes them so mad that they can't control themselves."
"Is that what happened to Daddy?" He asks, his face showing a glimmer of hope that somehow there is an explanation for this.
"Yes. He heard the bangs, and I bet you, that he thought he was still in the war. Then the anger part came and he just forgot what he was doing. You know he would never hurt you."
"He spanked me before."
I look at him and smile. It was true, Jay had once, maybe twice, but it was relatively mild affair. I had always vowed not to be a 'wait til your father gets home' mother. It wouldn't be fair to Liam or Jay, so I dealt with a lot of Liam's indiscretions myself, but occasionally a heavier hand had been needed.
"But it was different when he did it before wasn't it?"
"Yeah," he agreed as he sniffed.
"Does it hurt a lot?"
"Not so bad. Do you think he'll ever love me again?" He asks as he shifts on his bed and then decides to lay down on his side, as if he suddenly realized he was uncomfortable.
"He loves you now. I'm sure he's worried about you and feels terribly about what happened. But I think it's best that we don't talk about it until tomorrow morning when we all have some more sleep. I can stay in here with you while you go back to sleep if you want?" I ask, though I am just as concerned for Jay and what he is doing and thinking.
"No, I'm okay. You promise that Daddy doesn't hate me?"
"I absolutely promise."
"Mommy," he says as I get ready to open the door. "Jerry was going to let me hold the firecrackers. He was going to light them when Daddy came outside. I threw them in the street though before he lit them. But don't tell him. Please don't tell him."
"We'll talk about that later." I say, so grateful that Jay had shown up when he had as I wasn't sure what might have happened if Liam had held onto the lit noisemaker.
After I went back and kissed Liam on the head and pulled the covers up and told him that both his father and I loved him very much and it would all be okay, I went in search for my husband.
I didn't have to look far, he was right where we had left him, still on the floor. His legs were tucked up underneath him, his back curved, as if he was doing a yoga pose or praying to Allah. He must have heard me coming as he looked up, his eyes red and puffy.
"I'm sorry, so damn sorry. Is he okay? Does he hate me? I need to talk to him." He said all in a rush. "Do you hate me. I should leave. I don't know what happened, how I could have done that. I'll go to Will's. I'm so sorry," he repeated as I sat down next to him and pulled him close. He collapsed into me, much like Liam had only moments earlier.
"Let me talk to him. I need to tell him how sorry I am." He said, trying to gain control of his emotions, but losing.
"He's asleep. Let's leave it for now."
"But he hates, me. He has to hate me."
"He doesn't, I promise you that he doesn't." I didn't mention that Liam held the same fear, as that would have definitely sent Jay scurrying to his bedroom.
"How could I have done that? It was like I wasn't even here. Like someone else was in control."
"Something was." He pulled his head up and looked at me. We had discussed counseling for his episodes, his days that brought him too many reminders, but he had always promised me that he was fine—that he could handle it. But after this episode he was going seek help or he would be staying at Will's until he did and neither one of us was going to sleep until he understood that fact.
"What do you mean?" He asked me, his eyes trying to focus.
"Your scars were in control. Jay, no more excuses, no more promises that you are fine. What if I hadn't been here? When would you have stopped?"
"I—I don't know. I didn't even know what I was doing."
"Did you hear me call out to you?"
He took a moment as another tear tracked down his face. "No. Suddenly I felt you and I didn't even know where I was or what I was doing. Oh God. What have I done?"
"He'll be okay. Thankfully you only used your hand." He looked at his hand as if he just realized it was attached to him. "But you have to get counseling. I won't take no for answer. You make the appointment this week."
"I will. I will."
I guided him back to bed and held him as he tried to settle down. I slipped away later and checked on Liam who was sleeping on his stomach, but seemed relatively content.
Jay was up and gone the next morning, leaving a note about some errands. Liam had a birthday party at the Field Museum and by the time we got home, Jay had texted saying he had been called into work. The pattern repeated with Liam not seeing him at all, and me only in the evening, conveniently after Liam's bedtime. I found it disconcerting that he seemed to be avoiding us and the fallout from the other night.
"You need to talk to him Jay. He thinks he did something wrong," I told him Tuesday night when he had gotten home just as I was ready to climb into bed.
"He did."
"Yes, and we really haven't even spoken about that part of it. But he needs you to talk to him."
"I know, but I can't. I did call about counseling and I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon. I need help to know what to say, what to do. Voight told me to take the afternoon off. I'll talk to him then I promise."
I knew he wanted to make it right, but I also knew he was terrified that he couldn't. I knew that if he didn't talk to Liam soon, the kid would be panicked that his initial fear that his daddy hated him was true. But Jay had to decide when he was ready, but I hoped it would be soon.
The next day I picked Liam up from school and we went to Millennium Park. We started at the Bean, moved to Crown Fountain and finally I talked him into going to the criss-crosses as we called them at the Pritzker Pavilion where Jay would meet us. Even as I watched him romp and explore, all I could think about were the examples of PTSD rage in a book I had gotten out of the library the day before. An otherwise reasonable man had demolished his newly remodeled home in a fit of rage when a new driver swerved near his driveway. Or even closer to home, when a woman had repeatedly hit her beloved dog and only stopped when the dog snapped at her. Liam didn't have the ability to snap. I kept thinking if Liam and Jay had been alone—what could have happened. As we got close, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. He was there, waiting, just as he had promised. "Look, there's Daddy," I said pointing to Jay who was standing by the short wall.
I wasn't sure how Liam would react, but it turned out I didn't have anything to worry about as Liam took off running. "Daddy," he yelled as he made a beeline for his father.
Jay prepared for his arrival, scooped him up and held onto him tightly. It was as if they hadn't seen each other for months. "I'm going to go get some stuff for dinner and I'll meet you guys at home in a little bit," I said leaning over and kissing Liam's head and Jay's lips. "You'll be fine Daddy," I encourage him.
That night after dinner, Jay filled me in on everything happened and I could see it play out in my head as he told me.
"Hey buddy, how are you?" Jay had asked holding Liam tightly after I departed.
"Good. I missed you. But you're squishing me Daddy."
"Let me squish you for just another second okay?"
"Okay." Liam reluctantly agreed.
I know that I haven't seen you much have I?" Jay said loosening his arms.
"You haven't seen me at all." Liam corrected.
Jay chuckled. "You're right, I haven't."
"Have you been getting the bad guys?"
"Sure have. But today I talked to someone special."
"A bad guy or a good guy?"
"It was a her, and she was very good. You remember that Daddy was in Afghanistan right?"
"In the war," Liam said as Jay set him down. "You saw bad stuff and have PSP."
Jay smiled as he looked down at him. "It's called PTSD."
"Oh yeah, dramatic stuff."
"Yeah, dramatic stuff," Jay agreed. Of course, Jay had never told Liam anything specific about his deployments and avoided the subject about his time in the Army at all costs.
"Mommy said it takes you back to scary times and you get mad. Did you get mad at me?"
Jay picked Liam up and set him on the cement wall that outlined the pavilion so he could look right at him. "Are you okay? Does this hurt you?" He had quickly asked as he set him down, concerned for the discomfort he had inflicted days before.
"I'm okay Daddy. I have to sit forever at school and I do okay."
Jay had to squeeze his eyes closed to combat the tears, but was unsuccessful. "It's okay Daddy. Mommy said you didn't mean it."
"It's not okay Liam, it's never okay for me to do what I did, and I am so sorry."
"I was bad," Liam had admitted.
"What you did was wrong and you were in trouble for it, but you did not deserve what I did to you. But I wasn't myself, because if I was, I would have never done that."
"You would have stopped sooner?"
"Yes. After just a few. And then we would have talked."
"Like other times."
"Right. Like after you threw a rock at the Taylor's apartment window and broke it, right after you were told not to throw rocks. But this time, even though you should have never been outside and doing what you were doing, I shouldn't have done what I did."
"Am I still in trouble? Did Mom tell you what I told her?"
"What's that?"
"That I was holding some of the fire sticks and Jerry was going to light them, but you came outside." Liam said as he looked from Jay to the ground and back up at Jay.
"Liam, why did you do that?"
"They always call me baby. I'm not a baby."
"Do you know those things can blow your fingers off?"
Liam shook his head. "I guess you saved me."
"I guess I did. But I was still wrong."
"It's okay," Liam once again assured.
"But it wasn't and it won't happen again. The good lady I talked to today is going to help me work on my memories so I won't ever do that again. I want you to know that I am working on it. I don't want you to ever be afraid of me."
"Okay." Liam replied.
"Are you afraid of me?"
Liam was quiet. "Kinda. What if I mess up again?"
"I promise you it won't ever happen again. Mommy will make sure. I'll make sure."
"The good lady will make sure?" Liam asked, his eyes brightening.
"She will, we all will," Jay said as he began to tear up. He put his head against Liam's chest and could feel Liam put his hands in his hair.
"I believe you Daddy. Even if I'm bad, I believe you. Are you going to see the lady again?"
Jay nodded, his head still against Liam. "Until I'm much better," he said finally pulling back.
"Can we go to the garden?" He asked speaking of the Lurie Garden on the other side of the park.
"Of course we can."
"Can I ride on your shoulders?"
"Sure you can. If you're comfortable enough."
"I will be. Maybe you weren't as mean to me as you thought you were," Liam said as Jay lifted him up and onto his shoulders.
"I can only hope not son." Jay said, combating his emotions once again. He knew he would struggle with what happened for a long time and he could only hope he could forgive himself, but first he needed to decide if he deserved it.
"I love you Daddy and you're still the best Daddy. I'll help you get better."
It took Jay a minute to respond as his tears of gratitude gave him pause. But he finally looked up and smiled. "Only because I have the best boy ever."
We had a moment, that in the end made me realized that Jay, like everyone else, had flaws, but it was what he was willing to do to conquer them that made him the man that I love. Jay continued counseling taking each session seriously and putting his newfound knowledge into practice. Liam never spoke of the incident again. And we knew he had truly put in the past several months later when he was full of defiance and giving Jay a hard time, fearless as ever.
This is the first of a few random memories from Emma...I will post again next week.
I want to thank those that have left comments. I hadn't been notified of any and it wasn't until I looked around in my account that I found several wonderful remarks. I generally reply to each one but no longer seem to have that option. So thank you all, they are very much appreciated!