“Then, we started to fight. We couldn’t hide our unhappiness from you. After five years, we weren’t even loyal to each other, Kellan. But living in that lie started to irritate both of us. Your father started to drink to erase his sorrow, and I started being a bitch. I was a real bitch, I’ll admit that.”
Hearing these words should have bothered me… and they were. They were bothering me, making me angry, but they also gave me relief… a sick satisfaction that their relationship wasn’t even a relationship to begin with. Hearing these things gave me a strange hope that I could be happy with Melody, because we weren’t like my parents.
“That was when you started to get sick. No one could diagnose your problem for a while , then, we found a psychologist. She told us about HSP. First, she had sessions with us –your father and I, together and separately. She told us that you were feeling our sadness, our sorrow. That was why we finally decided to get divorced. That was why we realized we were hurting you more than making you happy as a family… that you were better without a family like that,” she said, tears pooled her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Kellan. I’m sorry that we lied to you. I’m sorry that I let you believe your father was the bad guy in this story. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you any of this before. I’m-”
I interrupted her before she continued to apologize, “I get it, Mom. I’m angry and this is all stupid in a way… that I had these worries in my mind all these years, that I didn’t even notice I carried all your mistakes on my shoulders. But I get it. I understand how it could have been for you.”
“And I think you found what you were looking for, right?” she asked, smiling through her tears.
“I think… I… I need to leave now, need time to think about all the things you said. I lived my life due to your failure in love all those years, but now…” I trailed off, not knowing how to put my thoughts into words.
As I listened to her story, that didn’t sound as important as I thought it was. All my hate toward my dad (and for the first time I thought of him as my dad), all my fear for love, for relationships… I realized I put so much meaning into my parents’ relationship, more than I dared to admit.
I remembered my psychologist said “There is no important or unimportant thing in life. The importance is how much meaning we put into the situation. No matter how small the problem is if we gave it a big meaning in our life then it has the power to traumatize us.”
She was right… and I noticed that this was my trauma in life, no matter how small it could seem to another person.
And I was too proud to admit that before… before I lost her.
As I left the farm with lots of things to think about, I knew where I should go… I should pay a visit to Melody and convinced her to take me back.
My ringtone woke me up from my sleep. Red light from my digital clock on the night stand showed the time –it was passed three am in the morning which made me nervous. Who would have called me at this time of the night? A voice in my head alerted me to be ready for bad news.
I tried to spot my phone in my bed, the tissues that were everywhere made it harder, but I finally found it. It was Kellan… I didn’t want to answer, hearing his voice after another night of crying, but I couldn’t ignore the temptation.
“Kellan?” I rasped, my voice was hoarse because I cried myself to sleep like every other night the last two weeks.
“Melody? God… Melody,” Kellan slurred down the line, making a quiver run through my body.
I was facing him every day, at work, forcing myself to be professional, but this was the hardest achievement as all I wanted to do was kiss his full lips even though I should have forgotten him.
I missed him. I missed every side of him –playful, grumpy, excited, passionate, caring, workaholic…
“Why don’t you talk to me, Melody?” he asked, his voice is agitated, “Why
aren’t you here, with me, in my arms?” he added. Closing my eyes, I assimilated his childish tone.
“Kellan, are you okay?” I asked, confused by his questions, the slur in his voice.
“No, I’m not okay,” he groaned, “Why aren’t you here Melody? You should be here.”
Frowning, I asked… shocked, “Are you drunk?”
“Yeah… isn’t it ironic?” he chuckled, but when he continued his voice was darker, angrier, “But this thing doesn’t help. No amount of alcohol can erase you from my mind. No matter how much I drink this shit I can still taste you on my tongue.
I took a deep breath, trying to understand the situation. I knew his loathing for alcohol yet he was drinking… because of me. I didn’t know what to think, what to feel, but instead I calmed myself, “Where are you, Kellan?”
“In hell,” he groaned, “I need you, Melody… I miss you,” he slurred, causing my heart to pick up its rhythm.
“Tell me where you are, Kellan,” I insisted, nervous about his safety. It was his first time drinking.
“Why are you not with me, Melody? Why don’t you talk to me? You talk to that fucker, Ryan, and that boring Troy. I saw you with them. You laugh with them, you talk to them…why not me?” His words were rushed, slurry, but I could understand them… feel the pain and confusion behind them.
“Tell me where you are so I can come and get you, okay? How can I be with you if I don’t know where you are, right?” I tried to convince him.
“Come and get me? Will you kiss me again, Mel? I want you to kiss me,” he rasped to the line.