Like Father, Like Son

“Ever Since I was young, I couldn’t have been more than six or seven, I’ve lived in fear. You’re probably sitting there thinking how much of a liar I am. I couldn’t be living in fear when I barely showed any emotion ever since you’ve known me. But that’s the thing Maureen, that’s what I fear. I fear letting myself feel anything because if I let myself feel anything good, I know how quickly it can be taken away. So, I choose to see the negativity in everything. And I know that makes me cynical and you’re probably hearing this and thinking how dramatic I’m being or how much of a damaged cliché I am, but hear me out. I’m going to tell you something crazy, and I need you to listen through this whole recording for me, ok? Don’t turn it off or skip to the end because I need you to understand why I’ve been the way I’ve been. And once you’re done listening to everything I’ve said, I need you to remove the cassette tape and burn it. I trust you, Maureen. More than anyone. And that’s why I’m going to trust you not to tell anyone my biggest secret, no matter how much you might want to.”

Maureen sat in front of her dust-filled, half-broken cassette player that’s sat in her garage since she’s stored some of her mother’s boxes when she died 22 years ago. What reason she kept it all these years, she never really knew. But when an anonymous envelope came through her door this morning addressed to her with an unmarked cassette tape in it, she’d immediately remembered the boxes piled against the walls of her garage and knew her mother’s cassette player would finally come to use.

This was the second time Maureen had pressed pause on the decaying machine sitting on the kitchen table. The first time was when she realized whose voice was coming out of the speakers. Even though most of the words were filled with static from the rusty cassette player, she knew immediately who it was. Caleb Brownstone. The last time she’d heard that voice was probably no less than ten years ago now, when she had told him to never contact her again. She admits it was slightly harsh of her at the time considering Caleb had always been a great boyfriend for the most part, but he had one huge flaw. Caleb Brownstone was quite possibly the most negative, cynical person in the world. He would always have a negative view on anything, no matter what happened to him. Maureen remembers the time she realized Caleb would never give up his cynical nature, when he got promoted at work and instead of celebrating like Maureen suggested, Caleb frowned and told her he should’ve gotten the promotion years ago. Maureen knew Caleb was a great guy deep-down, but his negativity was starting to rub off on her, so, although she still loved Caleb, Maureen knew the best thing for her to do was to walk away. And so, with the bittersweet taste of unfinished love, Maureen clicked play once again to hear the hushed tones of her ex-boyfriend.

“I’ll start from the last time I truly felt something. I was six years old, and I was sitting on my mother’s bed, cradled in her arms while she screamed for someone to help her. Even as I say this, I can feel her tight grip around my chest and her long nails puncturing little holes like daggers into my tiny arm. You’re probably pretty confused by now because I always told you that my mother gave me up for adoption when I was really young, and my father was never in my life. And you always said this was the reason I could never truly open myself up to you. Well, you’re right about the opening up to you part, Maureen. I don’t know if I ever told you that. But the part about my parents was a lie. They were both in my life until that day in November when I was just about to turn seven, I think only two weeks later. How sick is that, huh? Anyway, I’ll get on to why I’m actually telling you this.”

“So last Thursday I was awakened at around 3 AM by my partner Jim calling me again. I bet you don’t miss those late-night calls to run to a crime scene, do you? So, Jim woke me up and told me to get down to 31 Bakerstreet. You know the dilapidated house on the end of the road that no one other than kids smoking pot uses? Yeah, that one. Anyway, I got down there as fast as I could and saw at least 5 police cars outside. A few more than I thought for a drug-fueled brawl that I expected in this building. Now, before I go any further, I want you to brace yourself Maureen, because what was inside that house isn’t going to be easy to hear.”

Maureen paused the tape once again and sat back. What the hell was she even hearing? It sounded like the ramblings of a mad man. But Caleb sounded completely normal, if not slightly panicked, but nothing that suggested a voice that was going through psychosis. As a registered mental health nurse, Maureen was trained to spot even the smallest of differences in someone’s voice that meant they were going into psychosis or needed to be admitted to a psychiatric unit. But all she was now was confused. The words coming out of Caleb’s mouth were erratic and he rambled on for what felt like hours, even though the clock only showed around ten minutes. So, as confused as ever, Maureen hit play once again.

“So, I was just in the front entrance of the house before I saw a man’s shoe sticking out of the door to my right. Once I investigated further, I saw that the shoe was still attached to the man that wore it, who was face-down on the ground with his limbs splayed out to his sides. He was lying in a thick pool of blood, so I assumed he’d been dead for at least a couple of hours. Once I stepped over him and into the room a bit further, I could see a small handgun beside his right hand and an ax, still gripped tightly in his left. But then, I whipped my head behind me as I heard a small whimper. My eyes widened as I saw a young boy, no older than seven, holding his mother’s head in his tiny, shaking hands. My heart felt as if it was in my ears as I called for Jim to give me some help. I can’t lie, I froze. I froze because the boy looked so small and helpless, cradling his mother as if his natural instincts told him to hold her for as long as he could because it would probably be the last time he would be able to. But the wave of sadness that came over me wasn't why I froze, Maureen. It was the complete and total fear that took over my body when I looked into that little boy’s pooling eyes. I looked into them, and I saw my own eyes in them. You see, Maureen, my mother didn’t put me up for adoption and my father wasn’t absent. Yes, I was put up for adoption when I was six, but that was because my father killed my mother.”

“Huh, ok, here I go. My father was an extremely abusive alcoholic that started his torture when I was too young to even remember. He’d call my mother every name under the sun, before he moved onto more physical threats. He would beat us senseless any time he would drink. But on one night in November, his fists just didn’t seem good enough for him. Remember when I told you about the night my mother was gripping me so tight, she was almost choking me? Well somehow, I fell asleep but was awoken again by the sound of my mother’s screams. I ran downstairs to see my mother laying on the floor, gripping her stomach and my father standing over her with a bloodied kitchen knife. Now, remember, I was only six, so what was I to do?"

"I ran. I ran into the cupboard under the stairs and locked it behind me. I’ve never felt fear like it. My limbs felt numb yet full of electric static. My heart felt as if it were about to burst from my chest in a violent thwump. My breath came in short, uneven puffs. But the worst feeling of all, was that I was alone. No one was there to protect me, and with my father pounding on the small wooden door before me, I knew I needed to do something, and quick. So I grabbed the only thing I thought could have helped me, a baseball bat and opened the door. It swung in front of me, slamming my father backwards. He obviously didn’t expect me to come out at that time and was taken aback by my small figure standing over him with a baseball bat that was probably heavier than I was at the time. I swung as hard as I could at him with my eyes closed but the bat didn’t encounter anything. Once I opened my eyes, I saw my father below me with the knife in his chest. I ran back into the room beneath the stairs and locked the door behind me again. I didn’t come out until the next day when our neighbor had sent over a police woman to do a welfare check. Turns out, when I had opened the door, the force had made the knife burrow into his chest, killing him in a very slow and painful way.”

“Yes, I had killed my father. The police ruled it as a murder-suicide, and I never said anything differently to this day. You’re the first person I’ve ever told the truth to. And the reason is, when I saw that young boy at the crime scene last week, I felt that fear again. I saw it in the young boy. The heartbeat in my ears, the tingling of my numb limbs filled with adrenaline. I felt how it was to be that boy. And in that moment, I realized, I didn’t look at this boy and think it was his fault that his father was dead, the way I have been blaming myself for years. And most importantly, I wanted to tell him that it was ok to feel again. That this feeling of fear will pass, and you shouldn’t be scared of it the way I have been. I’ve realized Maureen, that’s why I find the fault in everything. You always told me how cynical I was, how negative I had always been, and I knew deep-down it was to do with my upbringing. But I was always ok with being cynical because I was afraid of feeling that fear again, of feeling anything that intense again. But now I’ve realized, I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want to celebrate the life I have. I’m lucky to be able to live and feel, just as that young boy will, because I could have been killed that night, very easily. But I wasn’t. I’m alive and I deserve to live. I know I sound crazy, but this is the first time since I was six years old that I’ve truly felt alive. So, I’m moving to Mexico and starting a new life. Once I’m set up, I’ll contact you Maureen, but for now I need you to do something for me. Please burn this cassette and never mention to anyone what I’ve told you. I trust you to do the right thing here. I’ll be in contact soon. I love you, Maureen.”

The tape wound to a complete stop, but Maureen continued to sit in silence. She sat and sat some more before she reached for the tape and put it in her jacket pocket, grabbed a lighter from the countertop and walked out the door.