Hand Me Downs

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A faint memory stirred in John’s mind. After a quick search, more like his father remembering a name than he realized, he had it. The morning after he’d attacked those awful bullies in the gardens across from the house, when he’d been thirteen and horrified by his own actions, John had overheard his parents talking about some mysterious thing he might or might not have.

“I’ve never told you what happened when you two were born, not really,” she said, her voice soft. “You’re old enough, and it might help you understand, or at least know you can come out the other side. The day after we brought you home, we buried James. It was the most horrible and awkward thing I’ve ever been through. I held you in my arms while I watched them bury my other baby boy. Everyone wanted to look at you, but they were afraid to ask. And I was so numb and shut down I couldn’t help myself, much less anyone else.”

Was this what his parents meant, what he’d gotten from his mother? She’d just described how he’d been feeling for most of a year, pushing his feelings and everyone else’s away until all he had left was numb.

“Even after that awful day,” she said, “I didn’t feel anything. I took care of you, and your father and I tried to take care of each other, but I was lost. He started talking to Andy, Dr. Douglas, but I refused to go. After a few weeks he went back to work, and I had the first day alone with you. We had two of everything, blue and green for two little boys.”

She stopped and looked away, her chin trembling. John took her hand with his scraped and bruised but unbroken left one. He’d thought many long hours about James and what could have been. He knew what had happened, and his parents had always been good about answering his questions.

This was the first time either of them had talked about how they felt.

“I’d found a crib big enough for the two of you to sleep side by side. You looked so lonely in that vast thing by yourself that I couldn’t stand to look at it. I was almost closing my eyes to pick you up or put you down. That first day by myself, I decided it was time I dealt with what had happened. I didn’t want to stay so cold. Your father needed me, you certainly needed me, and I knew I couldn’t stay that way forever.”

When she paused, John realized he’d been holding his breath. He was afraid her words would be devastating, but he needed to hear.

A part of him desperately needed to.

“So I sat down in your nursery with you,” she said. “The same room you have now. I really thought about it for the first time. How we were so happy when we knew there were two of you, planning how we would arrange the house and our lives around you both. How they handed you to me and I became a different woman as soon as I looked into your eyes. From that instant my life was no longer my own.”

She closed her eyes for a second before going on in a stronger voice.

“I felt so different the second time in labor. The fear was gone. I knew I’d get through it, and I knew I’d get to meet my son at the end. But the doctor and nurses stopped talking and started moving faster. They told me to stop pushing and whispered to each other, and they said something to your father, but not to me. I’d carried both of you for months and had already had you, but everyone suddenly thought I was too fragile to be honest with.”

She was talking faster, and John was caught up in another flood of emotions from her. Now he could feel her anger, and her agony.

“When it was over, they didn’t hand me a warm baby. I caught just a glimpse of a tiny blue body as they rushed away with him. And he was silent. You came into the world kicking and screaming, so much so that everyone was surprised by you, but James didn’t make a sound. Jack finally told me the cord had been around James’ neck. They brought you back to me, and I held you, looked at you, tried to breathe you in.”

John’s father moved closer and put an arm around her.

“I thought somehow if I could focus on you enough,” she said, “it would bring James through. When they came in and told us he was gone, that’s when I went numb. It was a long while before I even realized your father needed to be comforted. He sat on the bed with me and we both held you. He asked the nurse if we could see James, and that’s when we took that picture. The only picture of the two of you.”

John had spent more time staring at that one than any of the other photos throughout the house. Trying to imagine how many things could have gone another way.

“That first day alone with you,” she said, “upstairs in your room, I felt every bit of it for the first time. It all hit home with me. What I’d lost, and finally what I still had. I needed to hold you, to let you know how much I loved you and how glad I was you were here, and how sorry I was about James. I was heartbroken that I’d been so closed off I hadn’t really held him. I didn’t even look at him, not really. I didn’t let him know I loved him. I let them put my baby into the ground without ever telling him how much I’d miss him, how sad I was that he had to go.”

A huge dam inside that John had never known about burst, and he struggled to keep afloat in the raging flood. All of the isolation and rejection and loneliness he’d been feeling over the past few months multiplied, and he was fighting for his life.

He didn’t want his mother to stop though. He needed to hear what she had to say more than ever. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay with her.

“When I went to pick you up, I couldn’t stop looking at that absurdly large crib. I was furious at it, as if it were responsible for everything. I put you in your bassinet, carried you out into the hall, and closed the door. Then I destroyed that crib with my bare hands, down to pieces, down to splinters. I even took the sharp bits of wood and ripped up the blankets that were too big. I don’t know what I would have gone after next, but your father got home.”

John’s mother looked up at his dad and smiled through her tears.

“I can’t imagine what he thought. Me screaming, or at least trying to with what little voice I had left. You wailing out in the hall with the door closed. He came in and tried to stop me, and…”

She caught her breath, her eyes squeezing closed.

“It’s all right, Maggie. It’s all right,” John’s father said, pulling her close and kissing her cheek. “John and I are here.”

John realized he was part of the circle, part of this protection around his mother. The need to keep her safe helped him find an anchor inside of himself, a firm place to hold on to. The torrent didn’t get any weaker, but he found he could stand it.

“When your father tried to stop me,” she said, “I attacked him. I hit him more than once, and I actually tried to hurt him with one of those pieces of wood. He finally got it away from me and caught my arms. I was saying the most horrible things, blaming him, asking why he hadn’t saved James. He didn’t even try to defend himself. It was you who finally got through to me, John. You cried out, and I heard you. I heard you needed me, and I heard the terrible things your father was saying, apologizing for what wasn’t ever his fault. I realized just what I’d done by hitting him and trying to hurt him worse than that.”

John knew then what a mistake he’d made, being so certain his parents wouldn’t understand what he’d been going through.

They might be the only ones who could.

She smiled up at John’s father. “I went to pieces, and he was gracious enough to catch me before I fell. I tried to say it was all my fault, I’d done something wrong and that’s why James was gone, and I was such an awful person I hadn’t even told James I loved him when I had the chance. He let me get it out, but then he told me the truth.”

She turned to John.

“James’s death was nobody’s fault. Not mine or his, and certainly not yours. I hadn’t noticed until then I was covered in blood, dripping with it. I’d managed to cut my hands and even my scalp with that wood. Once he got me cleaned up, he carried you downstairs and got me settled with you on the couch in his study. He brought me the picture of you and James. He said I could tell James I loved him right then, and he’d understand.”

John was struggling again, but this time with the strongest love and acceptance and sorrow he’d ever known. It came from his mom and from inside of him, and he was afraid he’d drown in the middle.

“Your father was right. By the time he got done with the awful mess I’d made, I’d calmed down enough to fall asleep with you in my arms. I didn’t get that closed off inside anymore, though I certainly wasn’t calm. I did have more screaming fits and plenty of guilt and blaming myself, so I finally agreed to talk to Dr. Douglas. He helped me as much as he helped your father. He can help you, too.”

She touched the fingers of John’s bandaged right hand again.

“I’m telling you all this because for the first time since that day, I’ve been feeling empty inside. This time I did it on purpose. I’ve been afraid you’d end up with this awful temper. Two of my uncles have it and have been in trouble all their lives. You know very well how hard your grandfather can be to deal with when he’s in a mood. Everyone thought a quick temper or even hitting someone else was cute in a little girl, but there was nothing cute about the way I treated your father that day.”

“I don’t think anyone would blame you for that, love,” John’s father said. “Least of all me. It wasn’t an easy time for any of us.”

“That doesn’t change how I remember it,” she said. “How I’d feel if it ever happened again.”

She turned back to John.

“When you started getting so moody and angry, I was furious with you. It got so bad I was terrified I’d end up...that we’d end up getting into a fight, a real fight, and I couldn’t imagine anything worse. I asked your father to talk to you, to try to handle it, to make sure that couldn’t happen. And I’ve been withdrawing from you ever since. The time you’ve needed me most since the day you were born, and I’ve pushed you away.”

“It’s all right, Mom.” John forced the words through an aching throat. “I’ve been horrible. I understand why anyone would want to turn away. I did my best to drive people away. Before tonight I wouldn’t have listened no matter what either of you said.”

“You can’t ever drive us away, love, not really,” she said. “What I think is all three of us should go see about your hand, then go see Dr. Douglas. I know you need to go by yourself, but this time, and any time you need us, we can all go. You can get through this. You’re not broken, John. Needing help does not make you broken.”

John nodded, but he was unable to speak. After all these months, nearly half a year, of trying to find ways to fix himself, or at least to fix himself enough to get through the night without waking up screaming, hearing those words meant the world to him. If his mom had gone through all of that and been brave enough to tell him, and if his dad had gone through all of that with her, then he could get through.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, his life felt worth saving.