Breaking Away Into Purpose

My family has had a tradition of all of the women getting married at 20 since we can remember. 

I’m almost 20 and I don’t even have a boyfriend. I don’t think I even want to get married at all! I just want to travel the world and get paid to do it. 

Mother applauds me and secretly encourages me. But since I’m a girl, Dad just wants-more like expects- me to stay in this dump of a town, get married and have at least two kids. He doesn’t even care that I probably wouldn’t make a good mom. He just cares about keeping up the “moral stance” as he likes to call it. He claims to have the salvation of Christ but appearances and money are his real gods. 

Dad wants to marry me off to his boss’s son even though he’s engaged to someone else. He cyberbullied both him and his fiancé . His fiancé almost left him and he attempted suicide. If his boss knows it was him, he’s definitely not showing it.

I hardly spent one penny of the money I earned from my job handling packages at UPS. I could endure the guys there harassing me for being a lesbian, etcetera, etcetera. I don’t think I am. I’ve just never had feelings for anyone, period. 

What I can’t stand is Dad practically forcing me to keep up the joke of a family tradition. 

That’s why Mom and I are finishing my secret packing right now. Not that we’ve ever had much stuff. Dad spends all kinds of money on himself on the side but has only ever let us have only a little more than the bare minimum. He quotes verses like 1 Timothy 2:9 and 1 Peter 3:3 to justify that. Not that I’ve ever particularly cared about looks. But I know that Mom wishes that she could still wear her pretty tiny gold cross that she had before they got married. Dad made her pawn it during their honeymoon. It makes her cry to talk about it. 

Right now, though, I’m finding myself strangely grateful for that lesson. 

I’m planning to hitchhike across the country first. See where that will get me. Tonight is not my room inspection night but I am ready to make a run for it tonight if necessary. 

We finish packing an hour before he’s due home. I know that I need to act extra dutiful so as to not make him suspect anything. 

I am in my usual place in the living room pink roundabout chair and Mom is sitting on the brown couch working on a pretty runner across from me. 

I am filled with a major sense of dread as I hear his 2016 Buick pull up into the driveway. Mom can’t even look up and shaking. This is not good at all. I can feel my stomach dropping. 

The jump of the garage door makes Mom and I both jump five feet in the air. I hear the back door slam. He has not had a good day and is enraged. 

“LAURA?! LAINIE?!” He shouts as he practically stomps from the kitchen to our living room.

When he steps into the living room, I can’t believe my eyes! He’s sweating and shaking. As if he’s drunk or something! He’s always had a rule about staying away from drugs and the bottle! Saying that they’re the Devil’s poison, blah, blah, blah. 

“I really hope that you two have been pleasing the Lord according to Titus today! Both of you are going to get a taste of hell if you haven’t! LAINIE, your room, NOW! LAURA, you come on, too!”

I think I’m shaking. Tears desperately want to flow out of my eyes but I do not dare give him that satisfaction! It’s especially at moments like this that he loves to hop up and down about fear being a sign of the Devil. He’s beat both Mom and me black and blue over it before. 

This kind of a lead upstairs is like a humiliating perp walk. It’s as if I’ve killed a cellmate and am being marched to the special isolation unit. I hang my down just in case, still desperately swallowing every second. I try not to make myself burp or he might think I’m possessed and beat me thinking that he’s beating a demon out of me.

Surprisingly, the first place he looks this time is under my bed. I almost fall over and grab Mom’s hand. She squeezes it. I don’t dare look at her but she is shaking so badly it’s a wonder that she’s still standing.

He practically rips my bags out from under my bed. I can’t help but take a slight step back. Though he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, well, we’ll, what have we here?” Then much to my shock, he pauses taking a long look at them. 

“You have turned your backs on God, both of you…” Now instead of shaking, I could swear that he has actually turned…sad.

“I will not have the Devil ruling this house…Until both of you repent and cleanse yourselves, neither of you is welcome here any longer. OUTSIDE, BOTH OF YOU!”

In many ways, I am actually relieved. But Mom doesn’t bother anymore and just lets it all go. She sobs while Dad does the walk with us down the stairs, my bags still in his hands. I am doing my best letting her hang onto me-she’s 4” 9’ and weighs less than 100 pounds, I’m 5” 1’ and almost 130 pounds. Dad has often had us weigh ourselves at least once a week to ensure that we weren’t using food for the Devil’s purposes. Not that we could have since he’s insisted on doing all of the grocery shopping and never buys any sweets or salty stuff, like chips. He also believes that restaurants are the Devil’s playground of un-health to distract from God. 

That and all sorts of things are running through my head as he bellows at us to move it down the stairs faster. 

The second that we are out the front door, I barely make it down the front porch stairs with Mom as he barely misses her with my bags. He slams the front door behind us.

I don’t realize that Valerie Rouz, our next door neighbor has come running over until I’m startled to hear her voice. She touches Mom’s arm asking us if we’re okay and trying to reassure Mom.

“Lainie, grab the bags, I’ll take care of your Mom here.” I’ve always known that Valerie was a very nice person but I had never taken her for someone who’d go the extra mile. But I don’t give myself much time to think in case Dad goes all Moses’ Pharaoh and demands that we come back. He’s never done this before so there’s no telling. 

I barely keep up behind Valerie and Mom. 

First, she asks Mom if she needs to use the bathroom. But she can only shake her head. Mom tends to shut down completely whenever Dad does his stuff. I, on the other hand, am almost too good at adapting. 

So Valerie then leads Mom to her small dark blue couch and then shows me where to put the bags in the guest room. 

“Thank you so much,” I tell her quietly. She only gives a nod in response. 

“Okay,” she says gently but matter-of-factly. “I want you and your mother-as soon as she…calms down-to know that I will do my best to make you two as comfortable as possible here. I know that this is a small house and that I don’t have too much to offer. But I want both you and your mother to know that you are both welcome to stay here as long as you need to. I was a social worker in a battered shelter for twenty years. I used to see stuff just like this all the time. 

I don’t think he saw the two of you leave with me or come in here with me. But I can’t be too sure.  If worse comes to worse, we’ll get Adult Protection Services involves, okay? You and your mom don’t have to go through this alone.”

“Heeeeelp!” Mom yells like an old lady. 

“Let me take care of her. You go ahead and unpack, okay?” I nod, quickly agreeing. 

I don’t see what I can really unpack. I have plans to travel and don’t believe that I’ll be staying here that long. I don’t know about Mom, though. Right now, I’m scared that she’s going to pass out or something. She has done that several times after Dad beat her. This time, I think the fact that he just did something that he hadn’t before is actually even more frightening to her. I don’t really know why I just thought that but somehow it makes sense.

I quickly check both bags. Everything, including my pile of cash, is still in place, thank God! 

My heartbeat speeds up again as I hear Valerie swiftly walk to the guest room.

“Lainie?” she starts cautiously and then breathes. “I’m very sorry to have to tell you this but your mom lost both bladder and bowl control and then passed out. I’ve called 911 but have asked them not to turn the siren on. The police are coming as well. I haven’t told them anything else but if your dad tries anything now, he will get arrested, okay?” 

I manage a small smile and nod once. She comes to sit next to me on the bed and puts her arm around me.

“Has this happened with her before?” I can’t look at her. I can only give a small nod. She gently squeezes my shoulder and then lets up. 

“You don’t need to deal with this alone anymore. She will get the help that she needs and so will you. The most important thing that you can keep in mind right now is that you can do this and you will. You can’t afford to go back. Neither can she. The only direction you can afford to go now is forward.”

I give a small nod tearing up. But I know that Valerie’s right. 

I jump as someone knocks very loudly on Valerie’s door. As Valerie runs to the door, I run to Mom. She’s keeled over and really stinks. I feel so helpless. I want to hold her but can’t. All of the other times that she’s been passed out flash through my mind. As a result, I start to shake and cry.

I watch as the paramedics work quickly. Quickly but gently transferring her onto the gurney. Putting a brace on her neck and heading out. As Valerie and I follow, I freeze when I heard Dad’s voice.

“WHAT IS THIS DEVIL’S FIASCO? THE LORD’S WRATH WILL DESCEND ON ALL YOU AND YOU WILL ALL SPEND ETERNITY IN HELL…”

He tries to come running over with both fists in the air. But he barely gets two feet away from the house before the cops have him on the ground and handcuff him. They try to tell him that he has the right to remain silent, etcetera, etcetera. But he spews his testimonies as a “true prophet” of God even louder all the way to the cop car.  

Valerie drives me following the ambulance to Scripps Mercy Hospital. Neither of us says a word on the way and even though it’s not a slow ride, it seems like a small eternity. 

We don’t say a word in the waiting room, either. Valerie reads a magazine and I’m too dazed to think. 

It’s almost half an hour before the doctors arrive with sad looks on their faces, their heads practically hung to one side.

“I’m Dr. Lakari…Laura had a lot of contusions. They caused over 95 percent of brain to swell and she didn’t make it…”

NO! No!No!No!No!...

I barely notice Valerie catching me in a tight hug. I just want to run. But my feet won’t move.

How is this kind of injustice even possible? 

Does this mean that Dad could be right after all?...

In the following week, Valerie and I use Dad’s money-I knee that he had a lot but I’m shocked to find out that he’s in the lower billions!-to pay for Mom’s funeral. It’s almost $9,000 but with the kind of money Dad has, it feels like nothing.

My grandparents take me in after the funeral. I had never had a chance to meet them before because Dad had said that they’d all sold their souls to the Devil. But they’re actually very sweet so that was when I knew that Dad couldn’t possibly be right. They’re devout Lutherans but nothing like Dad. 

The courts are now getting ready to charge him with Second Degree murder along with numerous domestic violence and attempted assault charges. He tested positive for cocaine on the day that he was arrested. He was had also been laundering money for and selling cocaine for a local drug lord named Lian Hanway. As a result, she and much of her ring were arrested not too long after Dad was. 

I don’t want to talk about court or my testimony. But I will say that Valerie was there for me throughout it all. And that since I’m an only child, I get everything that wasn’t related to Dad’s dealing. Not that I care. I don’t want anything other than what had been in my two bags that day. 

…

It’s been two years and I’m in the Peace Corps now. Grandpa was the first to suggest it. Since traveling the world has been what I’ve been wanting to do, I agreed to try it. 

So far, it is the best decision that I have made yet! It can be a real drag sometimes but this is definitely the kind of work that I was born for. I would so much rather be helping the world like this on my own stipend than living off of anything of Dad’s.

I know for sure that God is real now. And He is nothing like Dad said. God is not about following rituals and traditions. God is love. In spite of the dire conditions that I see every day, I also see love that I could never have imagined it every day. Sometimes, it makes me tear up.