Where Confidence Dwells: Standing In The Face of Evil

This story centers around abusive raging alcoholism.

The ability to reconcile the mind's restlessness is the most difficult workout. Regardless if you know your worth or purpose. Most especially if you come from an abusive or broken home. Jordan sat at his desk in science class fexed. Staring blankly ahead trying not to think of the hell he was going to in the next hour.

“No football today boy. You get to see the man.”

     Jordan shook his head to throw out the thoughts. In an attempt to silence the inner critic. As his left leg started to twitch. In unison with both hands trembling. Then his journey to this moment began to replay in his head. A movie Wes Craven could have written. Jordans hell replayed as he closed his eyes, throwing his face in his hands. Darkness behind his eyes echoing through the abyss, the screams, the cries.

“Gloria! The fuck is this mess?” 

“Harold, you're drunk, I’m not talking to you when you’re like this.”

“Where the fuck you think yo ass is goin’ bitch!?”

“Let me go damn it, I’m going upstairs to our son. Let go of me!”

“The fuck you doin’ yellin’ at me, tellin’ me what I can and can’t do in my goddamn house bitch?!”SLAP*

     Harold no, Harold please, Haorld stop. Sounded off in harmony fading into Jordan as a young kid. Holding a shabby suitcase adorning a black eye. Trying not to cry as his mother urged him out of the car. 

“It’s okay baby you’re gonna stay with Aunt Jill. It’ll be only until I can find a place for us. Don’t worry you dad ain’t never coming back.”

     It took Jill two weeks to get Jordan out of his shell. It was difficult for her to get to know her nephew. He’d scream in his sleep. Checking on him Jill discovered Jordan’s pillow body double. Both in his bed and in the closet. Finally to break the ice at dinner one evening. Jill asked an honest question.      

“Hun, where do you sleep when you have body doubles in the closet and in the bed?”

     Jordan swallowed hard without looking up from his plate.

“Why are you coming into the room while I’m sleeping?”

“Cause you’re in there by yourself, screaming like someone’s beating the shit out of you.”

*stunned* “Under the bed mam.”

     Jill rushed out of her seat. Stormed over to him and collapsed crying over her nephew. 

“What do you like to do? What’s your favorite thing in the world?”

     Without a thought, Jordan already knew.

“To see mama smile and play football. They are the only things I care about. I love you too, Aunt Jill.”

     Still in the last period of the school day. Jordan shook his head again. Now staring out the window at the empty football field. The sounds of practice began to drone as a dark symphony. Slowly turning into a young adolescent Jordan grunting past exhaustion flipping card after card over. As he did pushups in the garage. 2-10 are the numbers, Jack- 15, Queen- 25, King- 50 & Ace- 100. Get through the deck, shuffle and start again. Then shuffle and start sit ups twice as well. Everytime he thought about quitting he would hear his dad going off. Then Jordan would go right back to the deck. Which sits in the front pocket of the backpack draped around his chair.

“There ain’t no garage to save you now. It’s a one floor townhouse. You ran to Aunt Jill’s as soon as your old man came back around.”

     In his head Jordan yelled back.

“The fuck! I’m the best running back in the state! Three times All American, football and academic scholarship to OSU. I didn’t run! This my opportunity to get my mom and me the fuck out of here!” 

     Snapping out of it as the bell rang. Emotionless Jordan got up and grabbed his bag. His phone went off blowing up. Aunt Jill letting him know she loved him and to come to her house after school. Though his mothers text sent chills down his spine. 

“Don’t come home baby, please don’t come home.”

     Seeing Jordan was distressed Joel the fullback that blocks for Jordan. Also Jordan’s best friend. Calmly approached Jordan, Joel put his massive arm around his dear friend.

“Bub, it’s time you tell someone about your situation.” 

     Perplexed, Jordan made a light with sarcasm.

“So much for avoiding it and going to your house for a minute Joel.”

     As Joel walked Jordan to Mr. Reynolds desk. Joel chuckled

“You’re still comin’ over for dinner tonight, bro. Your Aunt Jill can wait, bub.”

     Mr. Reynolds looked up from the papers he was grading. Seeing the distressed look on Jordan’s face asked a question that reshaped reality.

“Hello boys, Mr. Bouchard, that’s a fexed look if I’ve ever seen one. Tell me, what is it you gotta face that has you so unhinged?”

“No, Mr. Reynolds I’m not. Joel seriously man, nah we’re not doin’ this right now.”

      Joel put his arms around Jordan and turned him back around. 

“Tell’em Bub, it’ll only help. Stop spinning your tires and move forward.”

     Jordan looked up at Joel visibly frustrated. 

“Be mad at me, bub but get help and be mad at me.”

“Ughm, boys the hell is going on? Mr. Bouchard needs help with what exactly? Mr. Burnsmith, what plot are you contriving here?”

     Joel slightly nudged Jordan forward. Reluctantly Jordan began explaining how he’s been staying with his Aunt Jill. His mother’s sister for the past ten years. 

“My father is a violent drunk who's just started coming back around. He beats my mother and I. Has done so ever since I can remember, remembering things. My mother is worried and I am too. That if I face my father it would jeopardize my ride.”

     Mr. Reynolds took his glasses off. 

“Well that explains your initial reaction to men in dominant roles. As well as your objective defiance. However this situation can be kept quite enough. To elude the local media. So may I ask what the plan of attack is, gentleman? Rather what thought spawned the idea of retribution?” 

     Joel nudged Jordan again.

“Show’em the text, man. Jordan was going to his mom’s to pack her up. Moving her to her sister’s, Aunt Jill. Show it to’em.”

     Jordan slid his phone to Mr. Reynolds. With a quick glance Mr. Reynolds handed the phone back.

“I can see why you feel you must face your father. Is it safe to assume your plan was to get your mother out of Cleveland? Taking her to Columbus with you, in getting her away from your father?”

     Bewildered by the assumption from Mr. Reynolds. Jordan rapidly shook his head in agreement. 

“What does your Aunt Jill think of your plan?”

Heavy sigh* “She is partnered at a law firm and is going to transfer to a branch in Columbus. She agrees it’s a good idea. That, because it’s me, it might be different. Just not to get my hopes up.”

Hmm* “Well based on that statement it’s safe to surmise a pattern in your tumultuous existence, Mr. Bouchard.”

“What do you mean by pattern?”

     Crossing his arms Mr. Reynolds divulged his theory.

“Clearly the most obvious realities are the hardest to see. Based on your Aunt Jill’s opinion, and the text your mother sent you. It’s obvious to deduce one of two outcomes coming to fruition. Provided you execute your plan for your departure to Columbus. One: Your mother doesn’t go. Two: Once in Columbus your mother lets your father in. As she did recently urging you to not come home.”

     Maligned by the potential reality. Joel’s mouth was as open as a living room window on a spring day. Which also rendered Jordan dumbfoundedly flabbergasted.

“Mr. Bouchard, how about some perspective that may shed light on your mother’s behavior. We accept the love we think we deserve. Also love doesn’t have a face. Love is an emotion with which we perceive as attachment. As for the thoughts concerning the facing of your father. Lay down your fear of him. You may or may not face him the way you think you have to. Regardless if you don’t let go of the fear you have of him. You most definitely will become him. We become what we most fear.”

“My dad’s brother, my Uncle Reggie. The last time I saw him said something similar to that. He told me I had my dad’s legs. To not screw up my ride like he did. Then he told me something I still think about sometimes. Uncle Reg said my legs and ability are my ticket out of here. To go and not look back.”

     Shaking his head in agreement Mr. Reynolds spoke the truth through one voice.

“Sound advice, in the same realm of opinion as your Aunt Jill, yeah? Whose idea was it for you to move in with your aunt?”

     Jordan shifted due to the uncomfortable question. Though answering it anyway.

“My grandmother, my dad’s mom. She passed away two years ago due to breast cancer.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

     Joel put his hand on Jordans right shoulder.

“Tell’em bub.”

“It’s fine she ain’t in pain no more. Aunt Jill told me she tried to get custody of me when I was little, little. Before I moved in with my Aunt Jill. She told me there was a conversation between my mom and grandma. Then shortly after that I moved into Aunt Jill’s.”

“That is profound, Mr. Bouchard, the context of that conversation is irrelevant. What is relevant is that your mother is naive to self care. Though not foolish enough to keep you in danger.”

     Perplexity filled the room as if it were a wondrous aroma. The awkward silence lasted an eternal five minutes. Joel broke it by blurting damn following his jaw hanging like a broken limb. Jordan composed himself enough to utter a question. Proposing it as if he were enchanted.

“So, so what should I do now?”

“Mr. Bouchard, you have a plethora of options before you. It’s up to you to choose the right one for yourself. However, what I can do is offer a suggestion. Though if you opt for my suggestion it comes with two conditions.”

     Jordan weighed and contemplated his options. Looking up at his trusted friend. Whom was gesturing in agreeance with Mr. Reynolds. 

“What’s the suggestion, sir?”

     Mr. Reynolds quickly wrote something on a piece of paper. Aptly sliding it to Jordan.

“This is the number to a colleague of mine, Mr. Consetti. He’s a Jungian psychotherapist. I believe EMDR therapy is the best method to release you from your traumatic prison. If this is the avenue you’ve decided to walk down. I’ll call him personally after you gentlemen leave. Preparing him on your behalf Mr. Bouchard.”

“You think it can help?”

“100%!”

“What are the conditions?”

“Not what your preconceptions of them are. Is this the way you want to go though?”

“I can at least give it a try. Stop spinning my tires right Joel?”

“Damn right, bub. Pardon my language Mr. Reynolds, I’m proud of my guy.”

“Under the present circumstances Mr. Burnsmith it’s to be expected. Mr. Bouchard both conditions will be emotionally healing. The first: sit down with your Aunt Jill. Have her tell you her perspective of the relationship between your mother and father. Go further find out the history of her relationship with her sister, your mother. The second: cultivate a relationship with your Uncle Reggie. I’d go on a limb to say he’d help you improve your game if you’d ask. Rebuild the bridge your father tried to destroy. It will be a way for you to award your grandmother custody of you. Do these things Mr. Bouchard and you will have done the spring training for EMDR. Complete EMDR and we will meet the real Jordan Bouchard.”