The Beginning of Freedom

I parked the car across the street from the elementary school and sat, staring. I could feel my friend/mentor/life coach, Zack, glancing at me and then at the school.

“How many books or stories or movies has the main character who goes back to somewhere like this said, ‘it looks a lot smaller than it did’ or something like that?”

Zack laughed, “Every single one.”

“It’s not always true,” I said softly, “sometimes it looks bigger.”

“Do you want to talk about that before we go across?”

“No, I’d be stalling. There will be enough to talk about later.”

I opened my door, but Zack touched my arm. “You sure?” he asked.

I looked him in the eye and answered, “Yes, I'm sure.”

We walked across the street onto school grounds and I veered to my right. 

Zack walked easily alongside me and said, “6^th grade.”

I nodded and soon we were at the edge of the building, peering down a deserted hallway. The classrooms were to our left and I began to walk down the hallway.

“Those portables on the right weren’t there. It was just the big field.”

We reached the last classroom and I stopped and looked in the windows. “This is the class where we gave the teacher a heart attack.”

“But you weren’t here during those chaotic times.”

I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. “No, I’d cut class when the chaos started, and I’d go this way.” I walked a few short steps to the back edge of the building and turned left. Three more steps and I was out of sight of any of the windows. “And at this point, I’d be free.”

“And?” asked Zack.

“I’d go find him.”

We stared at each other for at least a minute, then I turned and walked towards the rest of the wings of the school.

“This side of the building was 5^th grade. Not a lot of memories here, Zack, but I was already shut down by then, wasn’t I?”

Zack didn’t answer and I kept walking.

“4^th grade here.” I stopped and pointed. “That’s the bench. God, I can feel the pressure even now. I couldn’t move from that bench. The nurse said if I was older, she’d say I had a heart attack. I told you that, right?”

Zack nodded.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“No, Tyler, you’re healing. Say what you need to say, even if I’ve heard it before. This is about your healing so say whatever you need to say.”

“If my son had something happen that the nurse said was like a heart attack, I would have freaking turned the school upside down to find out why.” I stopped and looked at Zack. “Once I got an EKG and my heart was fine, no one ever brought it up again. Never. Unbelievable.” I started to walk away but stopped. “That’s the only memory I have of 4^th grade. Not one other memory. Tell me again that I’m not crazy.”

“Far from crazy, my young friend, far from crazy.”

I nodded and continued my walk.

“3^rd grade here, and 2^nd grade across the grass there. I thought, well, I hoped, that once I shared the truth with you, I’d see my grades before 4^th grade as being different, happy or something.”

“How do they feel now?”

I closed my eyes and allowed feelings, my long-time enemy, before I started seeing Zack, to come up.

“Sad. I feel sadness. And I’m alone. I know that’s not the correct term. I should say I feel lonely, but with that feeling comes an image and the image is me, alone, always alone.”

“Why were you alone, Tyler?”

I looked at Zack. “I want to say you already know the answer, that we’ve discussed it, but that won’t do, will it?”

Zack smiled, “It would if you insisted, but I’d like you to articulate it again, if you’re willing.”

“Because I was alone. Not physically alone, but mom was, what would the term be nowadays, bipolar? Yeah, that’s it. Never knew which mom would be at home, happy mom or crazy mom, so I avoided home. And dad was, well, mean or gone. I’d chose gone if I could.”

“Leaving you?”

“Alone.”

“And?”

“Scared, confused, and,” I paused, “desperate for someone to care about me.”

“Bingo.”

There’s only one more building to walk to, but I couldn’t. I turned instead towards the playground where a young family with two young kids are playing on the playground across the blacktop. Zack moved next to me and we both stared across at the family as the kids swing and laugh and mom and dad are pushing them or grabbing them and holding them for a second in mid-swing then pushing them on their way.

“How does that make you feel?” Zack asked.

“Like an alien,” I answered quickly. “That’s what I think freedom looks like and I can’t connect to it at all.”

“Yet,” said Zack. “That’s why we’re here.”

We watched for a few more minutes and then I exhaled another breath I didn’t realize I was holding and turned towards the last building.

We reached the water fountains in front of the bathrooms and I stopped. “These water fountains, they’re the one thing that looks smaller than it did. The rest of the school, still much bigger.” I nodded towards the bathrooms, “Remember this in our talks?”

“This is where it ended, right? Where he saw that you had grown and had braces?”

“Yes. It ended.”

Again, we stared at each other for a minute, neither of us spoke.

I stirred first and we walked to the end of the building and turned left, back towards the front of the school. It was only a few steps to the first door, and I stopped right outside it.  My body began to shake.

“This is the hard part, Tyler. Tell me again about this room, about him, about what you felt.”

I couldn’t speak for a minute, then another. Zack waited patiently.

“This was the one place where I knew someone cared about me. He coached me, encouraged me.  I thought he loved me, Zack. And I thought I loved him.”

Zack asked gently, “Why? Why did you think he loved you and why did you think you loved him?”

“Because he gave me what I freaking needed, desperately needed.”

“Yes, but?”

I turned and stared at Zack. “But he molested me.” My shaking increased and I cried.

Zack waited until my cries had lessened and then asked, “Who’s fault was it, Tyler?”

“His, damnit, his!” I shouted.

“Let’s sit down,” Zack said as he straddled the small bench across from the door of the room. I joined him, straddling the bench also so that we were facing each other.

“You don’t completely believe that, do you, Tyler?”

“Of course, I do!” I said angrily. “Wait.” I paused, thinking. “I don’t. I don’t totally believe that. How did you know that?”

“Experience, my friend. Tell me why a small part of you, and it is a small part of you, tries to pull back some of the blame?”

I couldn’t speak so I closed my eyes. Memories of him darted through my mind, like a movie and I knew the truth.

“Because I went back to him. I should have known it was wrong and I shouldn’t have gone back. But I did. Again, and again. Doesn’t that make some of it my fault?”

Zack smiled, “Not one tiny bit. Why did you go back, Tyler? What were you looking for?”

“Someone to care about me. Someone to spend time with me, to encourage me.”

“And did he?”

“Yes, but,” I stopped. “Yes, he did. He did encourage me and spend time with me, didn’t he? Hell, he helped me become a better baseball player. He coached me after school.”

“Everything a 10, 11, 12 yr. old boy needed, he gave you and you received that nowhere else.”

“I didn’t go back because of the sex stuff, did I?”

“You tell me.”

“No! I didn’t, I went back for the other stuff and I needed the positive stuff, right?”

“Every boy needs the positive stuff.” Zack paused. “Let me ask you again, was any of it your fault?”

I stared at the door just a few feet away, thinking of all the stuff that took place behind that door, the good, the bad, and the ugly. “No, Zack, none of it was my fault. Not. One. Bit. Wow.” I exhaled another deep breath. “That feels amazing. It feels like, like, I don’t know what it feels like!”

Zack turned his head for a second, listening, then turned back to me. “It feels like the beginning of freedom. I think the playground is empty. Want to go swing on the swings for a minute?”

I nodded my head and we walked out to the swings.