After hugs and handshakes, we went into my grandma’s house, and the whole dad-side-of-the-family was there. Great Uncle Phil with his fake teeth and my aunt Rebecca, who is my dad’s sister. Mom told us that Aunt Rebecca just got divorced again, so we shouldn’t mention anything. All I could think about was the cookies, but Grandma didn’t make them this year because of her bad hip.
We all sat down and watched television instead, and my cousins and my brother talked about football. And my Great Uncle Phil drank. And we ate dinner. And I had to sit at the little kids’ table because there are more cousins on my dad’s side of the family.
Little kids talk about the strangest things. They really do.
After dinner is when we watched It’s a Wonderful Life, and I started feeling more and more sad. As I was walking up the stairs to my dad’s old room, and I was looking at the old photographs, I started thinking that there was a time when these weren’t memories. That someone actually took that photograph, and the people in the photograph had just eaten lunch or something.
My grandma’s first husband died in Korea. My dad and my aunt Rebecca were very young. And my grandma moved with her two kids to live with her brother, my great uncle Phil.
Finally, after a few years, my grandma was feeling very sad because she had these two little kids, and she was tired from waitressing all the time. So, one day, she was working at this diner where she worked, and this truck driver asked her on a date. My grandma was very very pretty in that old photograph kind of way. They dated for a while. And finally they got married. He turned out to be a terrible person. He hit my dad all the time. And he hit my aunt Rebecca all the time. And he really hit my grandma. All the time. And my grandma really couldn’t do anything about it, I guess, because it went on for seven years.
It ended finally when my great uncle Phil saw bruises on my aunt Rebecca and finally got the truth out of my grandma. Then, he got a few of his friends together from the factory. And they found my grandma’s second husband in a bar. And they beat him up really bad. My great uncle Phil loves to tell the story when my grandma isn’t around. The story keeps changing, but the main point is still the same. The guy died four days later in the hospital.
I still don’t know how my great uncle Phil missed going to jail for doing what he did. I asked my dad once, and he said that the people that lived around his neighborhood understood that some things had nothing to do with the police. He said that if someone touched your sister or your mother, they paid the price, and everyone looked the other way.
It’s just too bad that it went on for seven years because my aunt Rebecca went through the same kind of husbands. My aunt Rebecca had it different, though, because neighborhoods change. My great uncle Phil was too old, and my dad left his hometown. She had to get restraining orders instead.
I think about what my three cousins, who are Aunt Rebecca’s children, will turn out like. One girl and two boys. I get sad, too, because I think that the one girl will probably end up like my aunt Rebecca, and the one boy will probably end up like his dad. The other boy might end up like my dad because he can really play sports, and he had a different dad than his brother or sister. My dad talks to him a lot and teaches him how to throw and hit a baseball. I used to get jealous about this when I was a little kid, but I don’t anymore. Because my brother said that my cousin is the only one in his family who has a chance. He needs my dad. I guess I understand that now.
My dad’s old room is very much the way he left it, except more faded. There is a globe on a desk that has been spun a lot. And there are old posters of baseball players. And old press clippings of my dad winning the big game when he was a sophomore. I don’t know why, but I really understood why my dad had to leave this house. When he knew my grandma would never find another man because she was through trusting and would never look for anything else because she didn’t know how. And when he saw his sister start bringing home younger versions of their stepfather to date. He just couldn’t stay.
I laid down on his old bed, and I looked through the window at this tree that was probably a lot shorter when my dad looked at it. And I could feel what he felt on the night when he realized that if he didn’t leave, it would never be his life. It would be theirs. At least that’s how he’s put it. Maybe that’s why my dad’s side of the family watches the same movie every year. It makes sense enough. I should probably mention that my dad never cries at the ending.
I don’t know if my grandma or Aunt Rebecca will ever really forgive my dad for leaving them. Only my great uncle Phil understood that part. It’s always strange to see how my dad changes around his mom and sister. He feels bad all the time, and his sister and he always take a walk alone together. One time, I looked out the window, and I saw my dad giving her money.
I wonder what my aunt Rebecca says in the car on the way home. I wonder what her children think. I wonder if they talk about us. I wonder if they look at my family and wonder who has a chance to make it. I bet they do.
Love always,
Charlie
December 26, 1991
Dear friend,
I am sitting in my bedroom now after the two-hour ride back to my house. My sister and brother were nice to each other, so I didn’t have to drive.
Usually, on the way home, we drive to visit my Aunt Helen’s grave. It’s kind of a tradition. My brother and my dad never want to go that much, but they know not to say anything because of Mom and me. My sister is kind of neutral, but she is sensitive about certain things.
Every time we go to see my Aunt Helen’s grave, my mom and I like to talk about something really great about her. Most years it is about how she let me stay up and watch Saturday Night Live. And my mom smiles because she knows if she was a kid, she would have wanted to stay up and watch, too.
We both put down flowers and sometimes a card. We just want her to know that we miss her, and we think of her, and she was special. She didn’t get that enough when she was alive, my mom always says. And like my dad, I think my mom feels guilty about it. So guilty that instead of giving her money, she gave her a home to stay in.
I want you to know why my mom is guilty. I should probably tell you why, but I really don’t know if I should. I have to talk about it with someone. No one in my family will ever talk about it. It’s just something they don’t. I’m talking about the bad thing that happened to Aunt Helen they wouldn’t tell me about when I was little.
Every time it comes to Christmas it’s all I can think about… deep down. It is the one thing that makes me deep down sad.
I will not say who. I will not say when. I will just say that my aunt Helen was molested. I hate that word. It was done by someone who was very close to her. It was not her dad. She finally told her dad. He didn’t believe her because of who it was. A friend of the family. That just made it worse. My grandma never said anything either. And the man kept coming over for visits.