Page 193 of Brainwashed
My eyes dart to his with a pointed look. “I was getting there when you started berating me.”
“Lemuel, why must you always be so dramatic?” my mother chastises. “You act like we’re out to get you, when really all we want is the best for you. We always have.”
I was hoping for a little more time with this food, but I guess we’re starting now.
I drop my fork onto my plate with a clink. “Is that right? You’vealwayswanted the best for me?”
I glare at them. Dad and Gramp appear mildly remorseful. But my mother isn’t having it. She’s standing her ground.
“Lemuel, you need to learn to let that go,” she says quietly, an almost warning tone to match the look on her face.
“Vera, I think we should just—” My father tries, but she raises a hand to stop him.
“No, he needs to hear this.” Her eyes are severe, similar to mine in color, richer around the iris. “Things happen, and you move on. It’s the way of the world. I mean, for God’s sake, you’re a psychiatrist! Do you advise your patients to dwell on things that happened twenty-some-odd years ago?!”
Rage is rising in my body like high tide. “No, Mother. I would advise them toconfronttheir pasts, head-on.” Something flits through my brain—an idea. But I push it aside for now. “So that’s what I’m doing. You—” my eyes bounce between the three of them, “—are allhorriblepeople.”
“Lemuel, please…” my father gripes.
I stand up, gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles. “You allowed that monster to do what he did to me. Youlethim get away with it! Covered it up like it was nothing.” My volume is lifting, fury shaking my voice. “Never once did you offer me anything for what happened that night. No therapy, no one to talk to. You brushed it all under the rug and pretended it never happened! Well, guess what? Ithappened. And it happened to your only son, who apparently isn’t worth a damn.”
In a fit, I pick up my glass and whip it across the opposite wall. Glass shatters, liquor dripping down the paint. My mother flinches, but keeps her angry grimace intact. My father’s eyes are wide with unease. And my Gramp… Well, he’s just staring in silence. Completely shut down.
“That’s why I do what I do,” I tell them, though it’s only partially true. “I want to make sure no one ever has to live with something that will eat them alive. Because that’s what this shit does. It’s like the cancer you remove from your patients. It grows inside you, a black mass, infecting every aspect of your life. The human mind is so much more complex than you assholes give it credit for.”
Pausing to take a breath, I watch their shocked faces, gaping back at me like they don’t have the slightest clue what to say or do. I’m sure they don’t. After all, they did what they did for a reason. Because they’re completely unequipped to deal with any sort of emotional conflict or confrontation. It’s sad, really.
Letting out a ragged breath, I mumble, “You can try to bury things in the depths of your minds… Deny that they ever happened. But you’llalwaysremember.” My eyes flit to my mother’s. “Like the time I walked in on you fucking Harold when I was ten.” Her face contorts in outrage and humiliation as my head cocks. “You know, Dad’s other brother… The one whoisn’ta murdering rapist.”
“Lemuel, enough!” my father barks. “What good can come of dredging up the past this way?”
I let out an incredulous chuckle. “Funny, I thought I already answered that question. But I wouldn’t expect you to comprehend it. After all, you knew she fucked around on you… and you stayed with her. You both are just so deep in your denial. Always worried about how things look from the outside. But beneath the surface, you’rerotten.”
My eyes land on my grandfather. “And you. You’ve been awfully silent through this whole thing… Care to weigh in?” He simply lets out a tired breath, forehead creasing in defeat. “That’s what I thought. You’re the worst of all.Youare the one who helped Stephen stay out of jail. You used all your lofty connections, from being the world’s biggest egotist, to keep a rapist and a killer on the streets. One year in Belleview.One fucking year?!” I slam my fists down on the table, rattling the silverware. “Do you have any idea what he did to me?!”
Gramp’s hand flies to his mouth. His eyes well with tears. But he says nothing.
There’s nothing left to be said.
These people were supposed to care forme, not him. But instead, they acted as if it never happened. And ever since that day, I’ve been chasing answers. Acceptance.
Closure.
It’s been twenty-three years, and I’m still fucked up over it. Because of them.
“You know what?” I sigh, kicking my chair back forcefully. “I feel more at home surrounded by criminals and psychopaths than I do next to you people. And that’s saying something.”
I give them one last look of disgust and disappointment before storming toward the door.
My mother’s voice catches me before I exit the dining room. “Lemuel, wait. You can’t just walk out again…”
I turn over my shoulder. “I can. The only difference is this time, I’m not coming back.”
And then I leave.
I stomp through the house, racing for the door just like last time. And that reminds me…
Stopping at the end table by the door again, I see the same piece of mail with the return address:S. Love Chicago, IL
