I was surprised when the door opened and it was Mishon. I had been sitting in the hospital bed for a while waiting for test results, so I was actually glad to see a familiar face in a sterile environment.
“Hey, how are you?” Mishon inquired like nothing bad had happened.
“Okay. Waiting for test results.” I replied with a downward gaze.
“Honey Bee was worried. Said that it was a shame you fell twice in the lot.”
I shot Mishon a look. Mishon grinned back.
“Why are you here?” I asked Mishon.
“I have nowhere else to be, so I thought I’d keep you company.” Mishon said with a huge smile across his face.
I didn’t respond. I was trying to find my lost thoughts again. Mishon seemed to know this.
“What’s on your mind?” Mishon asked, as his demeanor changed.
“Do you remember the fear you had as a child when your parent got mad at you?” I asked Mishon.
“Fear?”
“Yeah. The scary thing you witnessed your parent create inside of you.”
“I don’t know if I know what you mean.” Mishon said.
“When a parent is so mad and their anger is directed at you. They lose control of their emotion and you have no idea what your parent is going to do.”
“My Momma got mad at me a few times, but nothing like that.” Mishon said allowing the silence to fall. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” (Beat) “My dad left my mom. Then my mom turned into a different person. She was always angry. She yelled at me with a temper that I doubt could have been tamed.” (Beat) “Like a wild animal that’s caged, striking at anything, she’d yell at me about everything. I wasn’t eating fast enough, I was taking too long to dress; I didn’t listen. There was always an excuse attached to her anger. And it always involved me.” I paused, lost in more thought. I was trying to trace back the roots to where it took seed. “My dad left when I was ten. I resented her for it.” (Beat) “I went looking for my dad when I was a teenager.”
“Yeah?” Mishon perked with interest. “Did you find him?”
“My dad had been trying to have a life with me, but my mom got in his way. My father had remained out of my life six years because of her. He left her, so she retaliated by not allowing him to see me. You know what she told me?” (Beat) “My dad left because he didn’t want me. You know what that does to a child? It shut me down. She wanted me to believe that she was the best thing I had. She would tell me I was lucky. That at least, she wanted me. Then she’d go right back yelling at me.” (Beat) “My world shattered when I realized my mom lied. My dad told me how he tried so hard to be in my life. He showed me all the postmarked cards he sent for my birthdays and holidays—all ‘return to sender’ in her handwriting.”
“I can see why your world crumbled.” Mishon replied with understanding.
“Now I know why she yelled at me the one time I got the mail and why I was punished for getting it. She didn’t want to me to know the truth.”
“What truth?”
“The truth about her.” I replied in a monotone fashion, then continued: “All my life I’ve been trying hard to get away from her, but you know what?”
Mishon doesn’t respond; he’s looking out the window.
“I kept going back like a dumb dog that’s lost. She’d take me back, trip me, run me into the ground, and when I’m face down in the mud, she’d say: ‘I told you so.’ Do you know what that’s called?”
Mishon looks at me and shakes his head.
“Emotional abuse. She’d manipulate me because she wanted me dependent on her. I’m her insurance policy that she’s in control; that she is, still, the boss and that she’s needed. She wanted to be number one in my life, even though she knew she wasn’t. Do you know what I call her? The monster of the Texas range.” (Beat) “Sometimes letting go is hard. You know you need to let go and you do, but emotionally it takes many years to actually let go. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Mishon states distantly, as he continues to stare out the window.
“Frankenstein’s monster wouldn’t have instilled fear if there was no one around to scare. He would be alone. With no status, no supporting members, he would be nothing. That’s why my mom wanted me down—to make her feel better about herself.” (Beat) “I broke my mom’s heart leaving. I did what the man before her did, but it was for a different reason than why my father left.” (Beat) “You know why I left?”
Mishon answers quietly: “You were mad at her.”
“No. It was her lies. She had be lying to me since I was ten. And who knows, it could have been longer. What I didn’t know is that I wasn’t in control, either.”
Mishon turned back to look at me. “What do you mean?”
“I was being an adult in paving my own life, but I knew little about that, with one exception.”
Mishon looks at me curiously. “What was the exception?”
“To have stayed would have been certain misery and eventual death.”
Mishon exclaimed: “Death? Really? Don’t you think that’s extreme? She wasn’t trying to kill you or anything, was she?”
“No. But spirit killing buys an earlier grave. If the way is from self-destruction or natural causes—the body responds to negativity like a growing cancer. It will die when it’s not properly taken care of or nourished. Words matter. You know the saying ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?’
Mishon nods and answers: “Yeah.”
“That person was a fool.” (Beat) “Honesty is something I promised myself I would always do even when it makes me look bad.”
Mishon looks at me earnestly. “Really?”
“I’ve practiced it. I’ve had to be honest with myself, moreso, than with any other person.”
“Who’d you hurt?” Mishon questioned.
“Myself.”
“I meant other people.” Mishon stated.
“I know what you meant.” (Beat) “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I hurt me. Do you know what the worst obstacle in your life can be?”
“What?” Mishon inquired.
“You’re probably too young to know it yet, but each one of us gets in our own way of accomplishing things. I am my biggest obstacle. I lied to myself. Don’t ever do that. It’s one of the worse things you could do to yourself. You know I told myself it didn’t matter that my mom wasn’t in my life. I found out otherwise. Even when someone is toxic, it doesn’t mean you should shut them out.”
With a serious tone, Mishon asked: “Is that why you consider yourself fallen?”
“I took this trip to find who I really am—ugly, handsome, the monster or the lost dog, I needed to reevaluate me. What I mean to me, not what I mean to others. To do that, I needed to get away from others that knew me. Those “others” always change, they’re not always present with me, but me—I’m with me all the time, no matter my change—I still look in the mirror. Sometimes I don’t recognize the man staring back at me. But it’s still me. You know? I see a weathered soul, sometimes lost, sometimes hurt, sometimes afraid, sometimes strong. But no matter what, I still stand; tall with weighed shoulders, tall with a hallowed look, small and crushed with a heavy heart and low like a bent tree.”
Mishon was moved. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For what you’re telling me.” Mishon said with watery eyes.
“Don’t be. It’s my life. I don’t feel sorry for you for yours.”
Mishon began, but then stammered and stuttered: “I’m sorry. I mean, I mean, I mean I’m sorry I’m not trying to judge, I’m sorry for—I mean I didn’t mean to suggest—“
“I know what you meant, Mishon. No one’s life is perfect. I wouldn’t want your life with a dad who has been committed—If that’s true—But I don’t pity you. I accept your life as is and don’t judge you for it. You couldn’t help who your parents are no more than I can. I can’t say I’m sorry to you like you can with me. That’s your youth talking. You don’t know any better.” (Beat) “I’m sorry if telling you this makes your uncomfortable.”
I smile at Mishon and he sorta smiles back. He sits down in the chair and stares out the window again.
Mishon broke the silence and stated: “I wish you’d change your attitude.”
“My attitude?”
“Yeah, you sound like someone who is angry about his life, wishes he had another one and wants people to apologize for it.”
“Why you son-of-a-bitch! I said.
“I don’t understand why you’re so angry. I mean, I must have hit upon something—look at you.”
“Get out!” I shouted.
“You keep talking like I’m an idiotic youth. You judge me all the time. You think it’s okay. You get mad when I do it, but you think your age gives you the right to do it. You think being older has given you some type of authority.” (Beat) “I wonder if you even recognize the mother—your mother—in you.”
“Damn you.” I said angrily to Mishon.
“I’m sorry—well, not really—since you like honesty. You don’t like what’s being reflected back to you.” (Beat) “I guess I’m your mirror.” Mishon matter-of-factly stated.
“No you’re not.” I said peeved.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m not the youth you once were. I’m not the anger filled man looking for his father. I’m not a lost dog. I’m just a boy—trying to be a man.” (Beat) “Your shoes aren’t mine but they could easily be. Just decades apart.”
I looked hard at him, but he continued:
“Your crisis—confidence—about who you are isn’t a crisis. It’s just a reminder that your confidence is in fact intact. I must have hit upon something. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so angry with me. You should talk to your mom about her life. Maybe you’d find something you didn’t know about her. That could provide you with what you’re looking for. A tie to something inside yourself to keep you grounded.” (Beat) “I’ve said what I wanted to say. I’m sorry if you dislike or hate me. I like you despite the anger or judgment you’ve thrown at me.”
“Get out. (Beat) I said get out.” I initially said in a low voice, then I grew louder.
“Okay, I will, but—“
“Damn you Mishon! I said get out!”
“One last thing—“
“Leave! You’re not wanted here! I said leave!” I yelled hard at him.
“Stop fighting with yourself. Sometimes you expect too much from friends.” Mishon said while heading out the door.
When I got out, Mishon wasn’t around. I don’t know why I half expected him to be. For whatever reason, and as difficult it was to admit, I felt I lost a part of me.