Names

I believe names have power.

Laugh all you want, but sometimes I put people into groups based on their names. Names have colors and personalities that grow to represent the person who is using the name. Although, to be honest, I think names don’t belong to a specific person, they belong to everyone. They're borrowed, from the day we’re born to the day we die. But everyone knows some famous ones: Karens are snobs, Kellys are blonde, Janices are savory.

But our story starts with two names.

Timothy and Kaylee.

I have only ever met one nice Timothy, and the one I am speaking of is not he.

This Timothy was a junior, which in my opinion makes it worse. He had learned the way of the Timothy from his father, Timothy Sr., but Timothy Jr. was worse than him. But I’ll get to that in a bit.

Kaylee didn’t fit the stereotype. She wasn’t blonde and she wasn’t stupid. She was nice, and she would do anything for those she loved. Perhaps Kaylee was too nice, but I’ll let you make that call.

Timothy and Kaylee met in the Air Force. They were both stationed at Carlson Air Force Base in South Carolina. They thought it was love and got married.

Oh, but dear reader, did you notice the key word thought? If not, stop reading. Let this story end happily.

If you did, brace yourself for what's to come.

Not long after Timothy and Kaylee were married, they found out that Kaylee was pregnant with a child. Timothy wanted a boy to carry on the family name, but Kaylee didn’t mind. She would love her baby either way.

When the child was born, the couple were no longer just that, they were the parents of a baby girl. They named her Bailey.

Bailey was bright. The two young parents could see it in her already.

Timothy wasn’t happy about not having a son. He turned to alcohol to drown his problems.

However, Timothy was a terrible alcoholic. He drank too much and would go on tangents, threatening to kill himself, and worst of all, injuring Kaylee.

Kaylee hid the bruises Timothy had given her, because what else could she do? She was afraid to report him, lest he hurt her or the baby.

Kaylee and Timothy moved to California with their daughter. Kaylee was from California, so they moved into her childhood home.

Things got worse with Timothy. Kaylee got a job shelving footwear at a department store to keep the family afloat, as Timothy had no job.

Kaylee was a smart woman. No amount of bruises could change that about her. 

She waited for seven years.

She took a stand against her abusive husband. She kicked him out of her home. And when he wouldn’t stay away, she filed a restraining order against him. 

Bailey was seven, but she knew what was happening. She could remember nights when she was woken up by the yelling and cruelty of her father.

Timothy rented a house, and Bailey went over for the weekends.

When Bailey was there, he was no better. Timothy still drank, and he smoked a weird green thing that Bailey didn’t know. 

Of course, when he drank, he got angry. 

Once, Bailey used his phone to call her mother. She stood outside with an umbrella, as it was raining.

Bailey finished the call and went back inside.

The phone started to glitch. Her guess was it had gotten water in it.

Her father got angry. So angry, he threw the phone at her, where it hit the wall behind her and shattered.

Bailey was petrified. Her father’s rage and way of harm had never affected her.

But now it almost had.

She was seven.

While her father marched off to take a shower, Bailey discovered that the phone still worked. She hid under the long tablecloth and called her mother, who promptly picked her up.

From then on, Bailey lived in fear of her father. She walked on eggshells around him.

Another six months went by.

Timothy’s landlord evicted him.

He invited her over for one last weekend.

She didn’t go. 

-----

A few weeks later, Kaylee and Bailey drove by the place where Timothy worked.

Kaylee asked if Bailey wanted to go in to see him.

She said yes.

No one knows what was said that day. Only Timothy.

Bailey, to this day, can not remember why she got in her mothers car that day, determined to never see her father again.

We will never know.

-----

Four years came and went. Neither Bailey nor Kaylee heard from Timothy. They had settled into a new normal without him.

Over the years, Bailey had become a writer. She loved to create worlds that were happier than hers that she could escape to when things got rough.

Bailey was twelve.

She had spent a day at the county fair with some of her friends, and for the night, she would work a booth with her grandfather.

Darkness fell, so she put on her people face and got to work.

After about an hour on the job, she was stacking brochures when a woman walked up to her.

“Your father says hi and he misses you.”

Bailey was truly afraid for the first time in four years.

She went into full on panic mode.

She tried to get her grandfather’s attention.

It didn’t work.

She hid behind a table, silently sobbing and hoping her father couldn’t see her.

Finally, her grandfather took notice.

Soon, her mother and and her stepfather (known affectionately as Possum) were there, and she felt safe again.

Bailey, Kaylee, and Possum made a hasty beeline for the exit of the fairgrounds.

But they were being followed.

Timothy and his girlfriend, Kim, had been following Kaylee and Bailey all night.

Kaylee told Possum to take Bailey towards the gate while she turned against Timothy.

Timothy was scared by the fire in Kaylee’s eyes. He knew she would do anything to protect her daughter from him.

He hid behind his girlfriend, and Kaylee finally saw him for what he was.

A coward.

-----

When wounds heal, the scars will still be there.

This is why I, Bailey, think names are important. 

I will always trust Kaylees and Possums.

I will never trust Timothys and Kims.

Too much pain and heartache lays on the road ahead. But what else can I do but meet it and say, “Hello. My name is Bailey, and I am ready for you.”

I will never back down from fights.

I will never trust anyone named Timothy.

But I will always be grateful for the experiences that have shaped me into who I am today.

“My scars will tell stories until the day I stop breathing.” -A.S. King