Authors: Susan Lewis
“I did, a long time ago. I’m just saying, that’s all.”
“But it’s nonsense and you know it. Dad and I have always been there for you…”
“OK, let’s stop with the bullshit. Neither of you thought I was worth anything before all this, so I don’t get why you’re trying to pretend now.”
“It’s not a pretense! If we didn’t care, do you think we’d come?”
His eyes narrowed curiously.
“We’re trying to understand where things went wrong, why you—” She broke off, startled, as he yawned and gazed around the room as though bored. “Listen,” she snapped, sitting forward, “I can walk out of here right now and never see you again. If that’s what you want, just say the word.”
“The word,” he drawled.
Once again neither of them moved.
Aware of being watched by other inmates and their visitors, she kept her voice down as she said, “Tell me what I did to make you like this…”
His head came forward so fast it almost hit her.
Jumping back, she took a moment to collect herself. “Explain to me,” she said, “if you’re so full of hate and resentment toward me, why you didn’t take it out on me. Why did you have to do what you did to Abby, to Wes, and Chantal…”
“What makes you think I’m not taking it out on you? It’s my guess you’re feeling pretty shit about it all, and nothing’s going to make it better, so suck it up, Mum. Your turn to suffer. You’ve got a psycho for a son and
you’re
the one who made me that way.”
“You’ve turned yourself into a victim of something that never even happened.”
“OK, have it your way. But then ask yourself, why are we sitting here? If nothing went wrong, what drove me to do what I did?”
“That’s what everyone’s trying to find out, but you won’t talk to anyone.”
“I’m talking to you. Trouble is, you’re not listening, because you don’t like what you’re hearing.”
“It’s not making any sense.”
“What the fuck don’t you understand about always putting Abby first? She was your special child, the one who could do no wrong. You went to watch everything she did right from when she was old enough to perform. You were always there for her, but you never had time for me.”
“Ben, I don’t know why you’re telling yourself these things when you
know
they aren’t true. Dad and I were always there for you.”
“Yeah, right.” His sarcasm was so thick it seemed to curdle the already sour air. “I’ve got to hand it to Dad,” he went on, “at least he made an effort now and again, but you…You weren’t interested in anything I did. You didn’t even bother turning up if I won a trophy. You were always too busy with Abby, or your business, or you were away somewhere with Dad. Then your little brat came along, another girl for Mummy, wasn’t the world just perfect? Let’s all play with dollies and prams and go to watch Abby sing and dress ourselves up in whatever stupid crap you could get your hands on. It was like I stopped existing at all when
she
came along. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t give a fuck about it now, but that kind of stuff messes with a kid’s head.”
She could only look at him, wondering how on earth he’d managed to convince himself of so much injustice and neglect when she knew very well that she
had
been there when he’d played games and won trophies. She was the one who’d nursed him when he was sick, made all his favorite meals, driven him all over the countryside to take part in competitions and tournaments…She’d loved him with all her heart, had been so proud of him, and had never once been aware of putting either Abby or Lula before him. Even if she had, it could never even begin to explain, much less excuse, what he’d done. Surely he realized that.
She looked down as he put his hands on the table between them, showing her his HATE tattoo, or maybe he wanted her to see the rawness of his knuckles. She felt a deeply visceral pang. What was happening to him in here? What sort of punishment was he really facing? What were they going to turn him into?
Nothing worse than he already was.
“What happened to you that day?” she asked steadily. “What made you go down to the—”
“They mocked me,” he cut in mildly. “You were there; you heard them. They thought they were better than me, they called me psycho boy, so I thought, yeah, that’s who I am, and now they’re going find out what psycho boys do. Connor was the first to go. I wish I could get him all over again, fucking toerag that he is.”
No pity, not even the merest trace of regret or guilt.
She looked down at his hands again, tight fists on the table. “Aren’t you afraid in here?” she asked, wondering how much she cared and suspecting it was more than he deserved.
Something flashed through his eyes, so fast it wasn’t possible to read it, but she felt sure it was unease or something akin to it.
Cockily, he said, “I like it just fine, it’s cool, they’re my kind of people.”
“They’re who you’re going to spend the rest of your life with if you keep refusing to talk to the psychiatrists.”
His eyes stayed on hers as he nodded. “Let’s not kid ourselves,” he said, “it doesn’t matter who I talk to, the only way I’m ever getting out of here is if they move me to a place for the criminally insane, which might be cool, come to think of it, bit of a crack, a few drugs, knocking about with some wacky people…”
“Ben, you don’t mean what you’re saying. I know you regret what you did.”
“If you know that, then you know more than I do.”
“Can’t you see that I’m trying to reach you, to show you that in spite of everything Dad and I are still here for you?”
“Then you’re crazy. There’s nothing either of you can do to help me, and nothing any psychiatrist can do either, because I’m not some schizo with voices going on in my head, telling me what to do…I’m in control of me, I’m the one who decided what I was going to do, and I’m the one who did it.”
“In a psychotic episode that you
couldn’t
control.”
His eyes widened. “Nice try,” he responded, apparently impressed.
“Am I wrong?”
He shrugged. “Who knows?”
Without thinking she tried to grab his hands, but he pulled them away. “Hey, hey, no touching,” he warned.
She stared at him helplessly, wondering what the point was of even being there.
“I don’t know what you expect from me,” he said roughly, “but face it, Mum, whatever happens, you’ll never be able to forgive me for Abby.”
It was true, she wouldn’t; she couldn’t even bear to hear him speak Abby’s name. “If I knew you weren’t able to help yourself…”
“If you knew that, you’d be able to tell the world I was a nutjob, a full-on undiagnosed psycho, and that way you couldn’t be to blame.”
She regarded him closely, trying to see her son past the stranger, to see a real human being who actually gave a damn. “Before you did it,” she said, “did you realize it would end this way, with you being locked up probably for the rest of your life?”
To her surprise he seemed to give it some thought. “No, I guess I didn’t think about that,” he replied, “but it’s OK. I can handle it.”
She gestured to his knuckles.
“Yeah, that’s how it works in here. It’s a different world. You don’t want to know about it.”
She couldn’t deny that, because she really didn’t. All the same, it was hard to think of what he might be going through, even if some, most, would say he deserved it.
She shouldn’t care either. After what he’d done, the way he’d destroyed so many lives, she should simply turn her back on him now, walk away, and let him rot in this dreadful place.
Had anyone ever felt such a cruel conflict of loyalties and emotions? If so, could they please tell her how to handle them?
“Tell me what to do,” she begged. “What do you need…?”
“You can’t fix this,” he growled. “No one can.”
“But if you’d accept some help…”
“You’re not listening. No amount of help is going to change what I did.”
“Would
you
change it, if you could?”
After a while he started to shake his head. It gleamed with the reflection of a lightbulb overhead. “Not Connor,” he said. “Never him.”
“But the others. Chantal, Neil…”
“I know who they are, you don’t have to spell out their names.”
“If it’s too hard to hear them, then you do have a conscience.”
“Whatever.” He suddenly pushed away from the table. “Time to go,” he declared.
“Ben, wait,” she implored as he stood up.
“For what?”
“I haven’t finished.”
“Yes, you have. We’ve said everything we need to, and what we’ve decided is that you don’t need me in your life, and I sure as hell don’t need you.”
“I don’t believe that.”
He shrugged. “Your choice.”
“I want to come again,” she called after him.
Keeping his back to her, he raised a hand to wave goodbye.
“Then write to me, or ring.”
He didn’t answer, just carried on through the door that led him to a place she could never go.
A week later she received a brief note at Rob’s address that she’d kept with her ever since.
Dear Mum,
I probably ought to say thanks for coming and even pretending you care, but it would have been better if you hadn’t. It was kind of easier before, telling myself I hated you and that you hated me…It made sense of stuff, or I think it did. It’s easier to be angry, it feels like who I really am, a shit psycho who’s got to keep it together to survive in here. I can do that, but not if you come to see me. You make me weak and that’s not good.
So forget about me, Mum. Go on with your life and if it helps for me to say I’m sorry about Abby, then I’m sorry about Abby. She always hated me, but that’s OK, I hated her too.
Don’t bother to answer this. I won’t read it anyway.
The person who used to be your son,
Ben
Culver, Indiana
Justine watched Sallie Jo fold the letter and take a deep, troubled breath as she struggled to absorb the enormity of it all.
How could anyone? It was outside most people’s sphere of understanding, never mind experience.
In the end, looking up, Sallie Jo said, “I can’t begin to imagine how you felt when you received this, or how you feel now.”
Since she hardly knew herself, Justine simply shook her head. “He’s my son,” she said. “That will never change, much as I wish to God it could at times. We’ll never get past what he did; it’ll be with us, all of us, for the rest of our lives. I had someone talk to me in the early days about forgiveness being the way to move on, but he’s right, I’ll never be able to forgive him for Abby. I don’t think I’ve ever even properly grieved for her, because it’s always been all about him, and in a way it still is. Matt’s there, I’m here…He’s made that happen. We tell ourselves it’s for the best this way, but how can anything be for the best when so many families are ruined?”
Not even trying to answer the question, Sallie Jo said, “Since he wrote this letter, has he shown any other signs of remorse?”
Justine glanced at it bleakly. “Not that I’m aware of,” she said, “but I’ve had no real news of him since I left. Matt and I decided it would be best that way.”
“Is it hard?”
“In some ways, yes. In others it’s a relief.” She sighed and reached for the letter. “To be honest, I try not to think of him at all, but of course I hardly ever stop. He’s always there, either as he was the last time I saw him, or as a boy…I hear him laughing, shouting, crying, roaring, swearing…I keep asking myself if I did put Abby first, and sometimes I think I did. Not deliberately, but I was so busy with the deli, or an event; the house was always full of people dropping in, or staying for a weekend, even a week; and I was often away traveling with Matt…I can see now that I didn’t pay enough attention to my children, and whereas Abby managed to cope with it, it obviously wasn’t the same for Ben.” Her eyes went to Sallie Jo. “It’s why I want to make sure I’m always around for Lula. If I work, it’ll only be during school hours.”
“You have that now,” Sallie Jo reminded her.
“Thanks to you, and I’ll always be grateful.”
Sallie Jo frowned. “I’m sensing a but.”
Justine paused for a moment. “I know you meant it when you said you’d never repeat what I’ve told you today, and I believe you, I trust you, but it will color the way you feel from now on…No, it will,” she pressed when Sallie Jo tried to object. “I’ve seen it so many times, and I don’t blame you—how can you not be affected by knowing what you do?”
“But that’s not
you
and who you really are. It’s only a part of it, and we all have things in our past that we’d rather no one knew anything about.”
“Not like this.”
“OK, yours is bigger, which makes it harder, but you’re here to try and overcome it, to prove to yourself that it is possible to carry on, and to give Lula a good life.”
“I want to believe it, I really do, but I can see now that I’ve been deluding myself thinking no one will ever find out. They will, sooner or later—not that I think you’ll tell them, they just will, and once everyone knows my son, Lula’s brother, is the McQuillan Monster, they’ll never be able to accept us the same way again. It’s the first thing that’ll come to mind every time they see us, and kids can be very cruel. So can adults. I don’t want to live with the stigma, and I really don’t want Lula to, so I need to start making plans to move on.”
Sallie Jo shook her head in quiet despair. “But where would you go that isn’t going to throw up the same problems you’re facing now? You can’t live in total isolation, so there’s always going to be a risk of new friends and neighbors finding out about Ben, and like you say, they probably will. So before you do anything hasty, why not give it some more time here?”
Justine forced a smile. “It’s really kind of you to say all that, and I appreciate it, I really do, but you haven’t given yourself any time to think, and once everything I’ve told you starts to sink in you might find you’re not keen for Hazel to carry on being friends with Lula. Ben’s…problems might run in the family.”