Boy Of The Black Church, chapter 3
I couldn't believe it!
My initial reaction to my mother's outburst was 'haha... This is like a sick joke... Right?! ' My uncle Patrick was an eccentric, workaholic of a farmer. But she was serious about me staying there for the summer holidays.
They were both dead serious.
It took me by surprise a little... That my parents actually might have a scrap of care and worry left over for me... That they loved me even. I mean, it seemed they were on a mission to rid of my troubles and tribulations. They were the 'experts' after all, and this is how they work with all their patients. With me though, it was deep and personal, I knew they felt a huge part of them was responsible for my problems, and they knew it too. Maybe in a twisted, weird way it was fate trying to tell me that my parents truly adore me and don't care about anyone else. However, my view of my parent's relationship with me was suddenly changed...
It was an unpleasantly cold Friday night. The wind screamed through the mist as the harsh rain came falling from the stars. 'Such a miserable night for what should be a beautiful summer evening' I thought to myself. Well, at least school was over for the summer. Just one more year and then I'm free, free! Maybe I can do something with my life then. Instead of being trapped in the narrow-minded prison that is my life. That is my only hope; it's what gets me to sleep at night. On the other hand, it's the very same hopes of freedom that cause my dreadful sleepless nights.
I am so worried that I will screw up my only opportunity of true happiness. I want to break free of my chains, spread my wings and fly, far far away...
But what if it doesn't work out that way?
I strived to banish my futile worries that I'd whispered to myself millions of times before during the darkness of the night. I decided to scurry down the stairs and into the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of water. My feet shivered against the ice-cold tiles. I walked into our huge dining room. The gigantic table lingered against the exquisite 'king's and queens chairs', which I liked to call them. I dragged out a chair and sat down. At that moment, I heard voices. Soft, yet precise voices.
My parents were in the billiard room next door. I didn't dare open the double doors leading into the room in which they sat. I could see a rim of light shining onto the pine floor of the dining room. They obviously knew I wasn't there.
I crawled subtly and discreetly across the ground, avoiding the piercing, shrill sounds of the old floor creaking. As I pressed my ear softly on the door, I listened carefully...
'This is just awful' said my mother.
'Yes... ' my Dad confirmed.
'Look, if anyone finds out... The embarrassment would just kill the family name'
'Can you even imagine the scandal and mockery it will cause? '
'Believe me, I can...
I could hear her stiletto heels pacing the floor. For once, my parents were actually spending a weekend at home before another departure on Monday...
She continued... 'that's why we must send her away; it will give her new perspective, a change of scene. '
'Oh my GOD! '
Were they talking about what I think they're talking about; me?!?!
'Yes, Abigail has to go. She must, I know Patrick will make her work on the farm and she can... Meet her cousins'
She almost felt her mother shudder at the thought of her 'other' relations.
My relations.
I took a deep breath. I slipped against the rough door and fell onto the floor... Hard.
'Yes. This Sunday. '
'If this gets out Jonathan! '
'I know dear... Just thinking of it.. ' My father laughed dryly... 'Psycoanylysts like us... Famous, respected, admired... Having a deeply troubled daughter who is clearly disturbed and self-harms'
'That's it Jon... She's going this Sunday'
'Yes' my father mumbled.
So... That was it. My questions answered.
1. My parents do not love me, they're more worried about what others think about them and are concerned about themselves and their sanity only.
2. I am definitely going on Sunday down to Tipperary... The back hole of nowhere. Whether I like it of not.
Great. Isn't this just great?!
Anyway, Sunday arrived and my bags were packed. My chauffer, James, drove me to the train station. I felt so depressed.
But amazingly, when I boarded the train... I felt the feeling of freedom which I dreamed of.
I sat down opposite a woman and her baby, a young college student sat next to me, jolting his head and beating his fingers on the table to the rhythm of the music in his MP3.
Suddenly everything came into perspective...
I was getting away for the summer.
Away from my family.
Away from my 'friends', who bully and torture me since they know how I feel.
Away from the city. City of smoke.
The train started.
Why had I been so skeptical about going away anyway?
It might be fun...
It might be fun...
I fell asleep on the train. A few hours later I was woken by the dude beside me,
'Hey, I'm sorry but I have to get past and this is where I get off'
'Oh, I'm sorry' I chanted.
I let him pass. He threw me a smile. I felt something warm inside me.
He was dressed in tight jeans and a Guns 'n' Roses t-shirt. He looked so 80's.. Very rockerish..
It was something like nothing else... His presence, the way he dressed. I had been sheltered from people like that.
I wanted to talk to him.
'See ya' he said
'Bye' I whispered.
What a profound moment! Someone down-to-earth and genuine talked to me. Okay, maybe it was about nothing but still... He smiled.
The next stop was where I was getting off.
I grabbed my bag, pushed through the slow crowd and stepped off the train.
As it chugged off onto its next destination, I gazed around me.
Aha...
I saw them.
My uncle Patrick.
And His sons, Liam, who was thirteen and Mike, who was about my age.
His wife Cathy, my aunt, came forward and greeted me.
'Oh Abi, it's been so long! '
'How are you? You're parents told us you were really excited to spend the summer with us! ' she beamed.
It really had been a long time since I've seen my relatives. Liam and Mike, I mean, I didn't even recognize them anymore!
We chatted and uncle Patrick took my bags and placed them in the car.
We drove back to their house. As we drove up the long lane to their old farmhouse I thought...
What will happen now...
What will happen next...
Please, God, help me get through this alright... For I don't know what to expect...
My initial reaction to my mother's outburst was 'haha... This is like a sick joke... Right?! ' My uncle Patrick was an eccentric, workaholic of a farmer. But she was serious about me staying there for the summer holidays.
They were both dead serious.
It took me by surprise a little... That my parents actually might have a scrap of care and worry left over for me... That they loved me even. I mean, it seemed they were on a mission to rid of my troubles and tribulations. They were the 'experts' after all, and this is how they work with all their patients. With me though, it was deep and personal, I knew they felt a huge part of them was responsible for my problems, and they knew it too. Maybe in a twisted, weird way it was fate trying to tell me that my parents truly adore me and don't care about anyone else. However, my view of my parent's relationship with me was suddenly changed...
It was an unpleasantly cold Friday night. The wind screamed through the mist as the harsh rain came falling from the stars. 'Such a miserable night for what should be a beautiful summer evening' I thought to myself. Well, at least school was over for the summer. Just one more year and then I'm free, free! Maybe I can do something with my life then. Instead of being trapped in the narrow-minded prison that is my life. That is my only hope; it's what gets me to sleep at night. On the other hand, it's the very same hopes of freedom that cause my dreadful sleepless nights.
I am so worried that I will screw up my only opportunity of true happiness. I want to break free of my chains, spread my wings and fly, far far away...
But what if it doesn't work out that way?
I strived to banish my futile worries that I'd whispered to myself millions of times before during the darkness of the night. I decided to scurry down the stairs and into the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of water. My feet shivered against the ice-cold tiles. I walked into our huge dining room. The gigantic table lingered against the exquisite 'king's and queens chairs', which I liked to call them. I dragged out a chair and sat down. At that moment, I heard voices. Soft, yet precise voices.
My parents were in the billiard room next door. I didn't dare open the double doors leading into the room in which they sat. I could see a rim of light shining onto the pine floor of the dining room. They obviously knew I wasn't there.
I crawled subtly and discreetly across the ground, avoiding the piercing, shrill sounds of the old floor creaking. As I pressed my ear softly on the door, I listened carefully...
'This is just awful' said my mother.
'Yes... ' my Dad confirmed.
'Look, if anyone finds out... The embarrassment would just kill the family name'
'Can you even imagine the scandal and mockery it will cause? '
'Believe me, I can...
I could hear her stiletto heels pacing the floor. For once, my parents were actually spending a weekend at home before another departure on Monday...
She continued... 'that's why we must send her away; it will give her new perspective, a change of scene. '
'Oh my GOD! '
Were they talking about what I think they're talking about; me?!?!
'Yes, Abigail has to go. She must, I know Patrick will make her work on the farm and she can... Meet her cousins'
She almost felt her mother shudder at the thought of her 'other' relations.
My relations.
I took a deep breath. I slipped against the rough door and fell onto the floor... Hard.
'Yes. This Sunday. '
'If this gets out Jonathan! '
'I know dear... Just thinking of it.. ' My father laughed dryly... 'Psycoanylysts like us... Famous, respected, admired... Having a deeply troubled daughter who is clearly disturbed and self-harms'
'That's it Jon... She's going this Sunday'
'Yes' my father mumbled.
So... That was it. My questions answered.
1. My parents do not love me, they're more worried about what others think about them and are concerned about themselves and their sanity only.
2. I am definitely going on Sunday down to Tipperary... The back hole of nowhere. Whether I like it of not.
Great. Isn't this just great?!
Anyway, Sunday arrived and my bags were packed. My chauffer, James, drove me to the train station. I felt so depressed.
But amazingly, when I boarded the train... I felt the feeling of freedom which I dreamed of.
I sat down opposite a woman and her baby, a young college student sat next to me, jolting his head and beating his fingers on the table to the rhythm of the music in his MP3.
Suddenly everything came into perspective...
I was getting away for the summer.
Away from my family.
Away from my 'friends', who bully and torture me since they know how I feel.
Away from the city. City of smoke.
The train started.
Why had I been so skeptical about going away anyway?
It might be fun...
It might be fun...
I fell asleep on the train. A few hours later I was woken by the dude beside me,
'Hey, I'm sorry but I have to get past and this is where I get off'
'Oh, I'm sorry' I chanted.
I let him pass. He threw me a smile. I felt something warm inside me.
He was dressed in tight jeans and a Guns 'n' Roses t-shirt. He looked so 80's.. Very rockerish..
It was something like nothing else... His presence, the way he dressed. I had been sheltered from people like that.
I wanted to talk to him.
'See ya' he said
'Bye' I whispered.
What a profound moment! Someone down-to-earth and genuine talked to me. Okay, maybe it was about nothing but still... He smiled.
The next stop was where I was getting off.
I grabbed my bag, pushed through the slow crowd and stepped off the train.
As it chugged off onto its next destination, I gazed around me.
Aha...
I saw them.
My uncle Patrick.
And His sons, Liam, who was thirteen and Mike, who was about my age.
His wife Cathy, my aunt, came forward and greeted me.
'Oh Abi, it's been so long! '
'How are you? You're parents told us you were really excited to spend the summer with us! ' she beamed.
It really had been a long time since I've seen my relatives. Liam and Mike, I mean, I didn't even recognize them anymore!
We chatted and uncle Patrick took my bags and placed them in the car.
We drove back to their house. As we drove up the long lane to their old farmhouse I thought...
What will happen now...
What will happen next...
Please, God, help me get through this alright... For I don't know what to expect...
