A Reason to Come Home
It had been almost 5 years since I was back in my hometown in New Jersey. I had enlisted in the Army and was stationed in Pensacola, Florida where I remained after my tour of duty was over.
I learned to love Florida and enjoyed the beaches and of course the endless sunshine, giving me all the more reason to never move back to my home state. My sister was jealous that I detached myself from our abusive father, never wanting to live back under his roof.
I was born in New Jersey and most of my family still lives there. My Mom had died suddenly in a car crash when I was nineteen, and I needed a drastic change in my life, so I thought I would enlist to escape my grief. I had just turned 19 the year of my Mom's death.
Of course, it didn't work, joining the army to escape my sorrows. I was suddenly alone, in a far away country still trying to make heads or tails about the tragic twist of fate life had dealt me.
My younger sister stayed with my Dad in the house in New Jersey and used it as an excuse for not moving on with her life. She did marry, and had a son, but the marriage was a disaster after only a couple years. Her excuse for not finding someone was that she needed to take care of our father, and of course my nephew. I know she always felt that I failed as the oldest daughter as I wanted no part of taking care of my now ailing father.
It was too hard for me. I remember all the times he would drink till he passed out, and if he didn't, he would take it out on my Mom, who always took his abuse and forgave him. Even if he would physically hurt her, she still always gave every excuse as to why he acted the way he did.
Many times I confronted her and tried to tell her he was an alcoholic, but she never saw it that way. 'He goes to work every day and never goes to a bar", she would say. True, but he drank at least two six packs until he couldn't stand up every night. I guess you could say he was a 'functioning alcoholic.' Either way, I knew once I was not in his company, my life was much better for it.
I knew my lifestyle choice would not go over well with my father, as he was a strict, Catholic, Italian guy who wouldn't understand why I preferred females and why I didn't have any desire to find 'a nice man to settle down with'.
A few years ago I went home when my nephew had come down with a mysterious virus and was hospitalized. Most of the time I spent at the hospital with my sister trying to give her as much emotional support that I could.
I tried to ignore my Father's feeble attempt to act like he missed me and wanted me to move back home when I saw him. I hid behind my position in the military and told him there was a good paying job in Florida that I couldn't refuse to take. I never did tell him the truth that it was because of him that I didn't want to live in Cedarville.
Many nights I cried myself to sleep, missing my Mom and wishing it were him who died in the crash. Remarkably, he only had a few scratches and a bump on the forehead. My mother wasn't as lucky. She was thrown from the car and died instantly when she catapulted into the trunk of a massive tree.
Yes, I know accidents happen, but for some reason I couldn't help but blame my father for it. The officer knew my Dad, so he never did a Breathalyzer test on him. I would bet my life on it that he had been drinking. He told the police that a deer ran out from the woods and across his path, causing him to swerve and loose control of the car.
I know in my heart he was to blame and there probably wasn't a deer that he blamed for swerving off the road. We will never know. His drinking got so much worse after her death, and I believe it was because he knew he caused the accident and it was now something he had to live with.
So, I arrived in my hometown that Saturday afternoon and rented a car at the airport so I could make the 1/2 hour trip to Cedarville, New Jersey. When I drove down the street where I grew up, I noticed the homes looked different. Older and more weathered with more children running around in the front yards.
The houses seemed smaller than I remembered, and the local school had an additional structure added to the original building to accommodate the rise in student population. The town had grown considerably in the last ten years and it was esthetically obvious.
My 10 year old nephew Thomas was shooting hoops in the driveway and my father's old pick up was in the same spot looking just as dirty and old as it always did. Kind of reminded me of him. He hardly ever had a clean shave, smoked smelly cigars and wore the same flannel shirt over and over again. Now that he was much older, it only got worse.
"Aunt Barb!" Tommy yelled as I pulled up and parked behind the pick up.
"Hey Scooter! You've gotten so tall!", I told him as he ran up and hugged me when I got out of the car.
"I know! Now I can reach the basket better. Do you have something for me in your suitcase!', he asked peering into the back of the car.
"What do you think? Of course! Where's your Mom?"
"She's inside fixing Grandpa his lunch."
"I'll come out and shoot a quick game with you in a bit."
"Great!" he said as he snatched the gift bag from me and ran into the yard.
I was always very athletic and my stint in the service helped me keep my athletic figure as I worked out just about every day. My sister's son was also my Godchild and I hadn't seen him in about 5 years. We face time a lot as I didn't want him to forget me. I only wished his Grandfather would.
"So, look what the cat dragged in!", my younger sister, Sue said as she came over to greet me with a little peck on the cheek.
"I'm sure your cat has brought in nastier things than me."
"No, not lately anyway! How long you staying this time?"
"Not very. I'm only in town for my 10 year High School reunion. I'm staying at the Biltmore."
"Wow, has it been that long already? Why can't you stay here? You can have my room and I can sleep on the couch."
"No, that's ok. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."
Hearing my voice from the dining room, I heard my Dad shout,
"Is that you Bobbie (my nickname)? You're finally home! Come in here so I can get a good look at you!"
Reluctantly, I creeped into the dining room and saw a broken down frail man hunched over in his chair, eating soup. Most of it had dribbled down the front of his shirt.
My mind went back in time and I wondered where that big strapping guy who pushed my Mom around had gone. He looked old and weak. Nothing like the man I remembered.
"No, I can't Dad. I have meetings scheduled back in Florida."
"Well, it's high time you moved back home, don't you think?"
"I'm only here for a couple of days Dad. I have to get back."
What I really wanted to say was:
I will NEVER come home to live here in New Jersey ever again. I can't stand being around you, as I know you were to blame for Mom's death!
So, I said it silently in my head. But there was no way that I couldn't at least, think it.
"When is the reunion?" my sister asked.
"Saturday night. I will be flying out on Sunday back to Florida".
"I don't know why you want to go to that stupid reunion anyway. Those girls you were always paling around with are a real nasty bunch."
"Why would you say that? I haven't seen them in years. I've been corresponding with Arlene and she is so excited that I am coming to the reunion. I can't wait to hang out with her again. She is meeting me in a few hours."
