“Ask me if I think
there’s a God up in the heavens
Where did He go in
the middle of her shame?
Ask me if I think
there’s a God up in the heavens
I see no mercy and no
one down here’s naming names
Nobody’s naming
names.”
(Ask Me, Amy Grant 1991)
Tabitha was
seven years old the first time. He skulked into her room, cloaked in darkness
and he stole her innocence. She believed his whisper and said nothing to no
one, including her mother. It went on for almost a year, her life invaded every
time he filled his want and his need. She learned how to hide in those moments.
She found a place and she stayed there. She would try to wipe away any scent he
left behind. Piece by piece, time after time, she became nothing more than some
carcass, a mound of meat that’s dead in the middle. She closed her mind and she
carried on in his selfishness. He may as well have murdered her, every time he
touched her, every time he would smile. Tabitha’s mother had no idea. She never
imagined she shared a bed, and a daughter, with a monster hiding in her midst. There
may have been signs but her comfort was more important. The child did not need
to be in the act for the act to haunt her. It followed her around like the
dirty little secret that it was. She couldn’t wash him away even when she
tried. She couldn’t hide in her room but
she could hide in her heart. She went from child to adult without the middle
man. Every time, she would disappear.
Just after
her eighth birthday, Tabitha’s mother came home early on a November afternoon and
found herself in pure horror. She wanted to stab him. She wanted to destroy
everything he had ever touched, anything he had taken to his own. He fled like
the guilty always do. Another shot of whiskey met him as the cops arrived and
his watering hole became a fissure at the end of his rope. For the little girl,
freedom came with a price. It wasn’t only during that affected her, it was the
aftermath, the police, the court appearances, all weighed heavy on any sense of
healing or escape. In taking her, he had taken any sense of safety, any idea of
grace. Payback was all he left her now, as she granted him time, ten years of
time. She was told she could rise above. Years of therapy, a different house, a
different home, made little difference. Some scars never heal. Sometimes the
voices will not stop, even when muffled by the passage of time. As Tabitha
moved away from the madness, another madness met her on her way. He followed
her, even after his suspicious death while sleeping in his cell. Each noise,
each creak a constant reminder of the way things used to be. Every night and
she would curl up in a ball, wondering if there was a God up in the heavens.
The child
grew into a young woman and she used all the fear, all the anger to fuel her
success. She focused, she studied, she excelled. All the while, a monster
haunted her sleep. She would find herself listening for him, each creeping in
the house more than some habitual concern. She made it through high school and
university, always top of the class. She strove to be better, to be the best.
Her effort only concealed the very broken parts of her. She was a hard one,
often as cold as any ice around her. Her look and her style as important to her
day as wine or avoiding the pain. She did anything to keep the monster at bay.
She knew he was gone, there was nothing he could do to her now, her mother told
her. This was not true. Every day, she lived with the toll. Every day, she
would stand in her mirror and see the victim she turned out to be. She had
trouble forming relationships. She barely talked to her mother. Every night,
she sat in the same place staring at the darkness, haunted by her ghost and the
memory and the shame. Every night, she leaves the light on in the hall.
Christmas
was nothing more than a word for her. Having to sit with a monster while
opening gifts spoiled her for almost any pleasantry that might one day come her
way. When she moved out to attend Harvard, she tried to leave it all behind.
She spent Christmas Eve alone. Christmas Day consisted of one phone call. She
didn’t have attachments so even getting a pet was out of the question. She had
no friends. She was a searching soul, a vessel containing the very worst things
life had offered her. She was successful and wealthy and a different kind of
beautiful. She needed no one and no one needed her. There was no longer a Christmas
tree, the turkey dinner or even a single gift. She wanted none of anything that
made her feel or think or remember. She watched her mother go on with her happy
life. Tabitha never really forgave her for not seeing something, doing
something. She resented that she had remarried and popped out yet another kid.
It didn’t seem fair that her mother got to go on but she didn’t. The baggage
she bore grew heavy and weighed upon her. No merry, no cheer, just a few empty
wine bottles and a broken heart. Every Christmas was the same.
When the
firm held a mandatory Christmas party, Tabitha stood off to the side fake
laughing, fake smiling, fake fake fake. She didn’t want to be there but she
tried to make the best of it. Checking out the competition is better served when
they are all piss drunk. She stood so prim and proper. High class style met
high class clients. Her outer world overcompensated for her childhood nightmare.
She surpassed everyone’s expectation but her own. The past corrupts from
within. The very thought of it was dragging her down, further. Therapy had been
dismissed for years but it was the lagging mass of him that convinced her to
try again. It helped her understand why she had turned out to be the person
that she was. She had to try and break the bonds that tied her to lonely, tied
her to alone. It was time to move beyond what happened and make life happen
now. Sometimes mercy comes when you least expect it.
For the
last time, Tabitha stood watching the world she had never known. With the gathering zooming about her, she waited
in solitude near the bar and her third glass of Merlot. Carrie approached her
professionally, at first. The new junior partner had noticed Tabitha weeks ago.
She watched her carefully. This was her chance. It was awkward at the beginning.
Both women began their dance. They slowly moved with each other the way music
makes you feel. Both agreed to proceed with caution. Given time, and a compatible
lifestyle, the pair became a pair. There would be no men to creep into the
room. No penetrating motions to steal away her peace. Above all hope, Tabitha
met Carrie. They worked right away. Despite her horror, Tabitha learned to
trust, something she had not been granted since well before his second assault.
With time, she began to move beyond what happened and build a new life. In less
than a year, the process for adoption began and the women waited for the child
neither one could have. Tabitha swore that nothing would touch the child. She
would make sure it was safe.
Years of
something else lingered. It was obvious Tabitha could not just wish things
away. Eventually, time did what it always does. With the bad comes the good, if
you care to recognize it. There may have been some justice for Tabitha but she
finally met mercy in the middle. With mercy came life. Years of therapy, a
screaming child and making partner all distracted her. She didn’t forget but she learned to put
it away, to block out his voice and his face and his sin. When the flashes
came, and they came without fail, Tabitha discovered how to turn them into a movie
rather than memories. Eventually, she developed the convenient skill of just
turning the channel to something else. It took effort and a good family but Tabitha
found freedom in clemency. She left an
unforgiving world behind her and made a new life from the ashes.
The
Christmas tree lit one corner of the apartment. With all the other lights out,
the fireplace burning, and some time, Tabitha made a hot chocolate then flipped
on the radio just before she sat down. She had at least an hour before Carrie
and the baby got home. The winter snow would not hinder their arrival as only a
light icing sugar now drizzled itself on walkways and passes. The city was a Christmas
tree of sorts, a thousand lights mingling together like tangled strings or your
soul. As hints of Jesus danced about and the star on the tree shone heavy, she
curled up and relaxed. She had learned how to do that. She looked around the
room and focused on the presents and the pictures and the fire. She flooded her
mind with the very best things her life had brought her. She granted herself permission
and was finally able to close her eyes without the revulsion. While the monster
didn’t go far, for Tabitha, he went far enough.
“Look beyond
ourselves
There’s so much
sorrow
It’s way too late to
say
I’ll cry tomorrow
Each of us must find
our truth
We’re so long overdue
So for tonight we
pray for
What we know can be
And every day, we
hope for
What we still can’t
see
It’s up to us, to be
the change
And even though we
all can still do more
There’s so much to be
thankful for”
(Thankful, Josh Grobin 2007)
The smell
of pine lingered about the room. As the tree lights shimmered and soft
Christmas music played, she drifted. Her slumber was light and she floated away
on pleasant things like her wife and her child and her place in this world. She
had never really been religious. As a girl, she used to cry out to God for help
but it wasn’t listening. She wasn’t sure if it was listening now. There had
never been a part of her that really believed this false hope. She wanted to
say thank you but wasn’t sure just who to address. The warmth of the room
surrounded her. Christmas was all about her and for the first time, Christmas
was also within her. As visions of sugarplums melted into play, she slipped
away. No spirit of Christmas past could harm her now.
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