I worked at a diner in the 1950's as a waitress. At almost 20 years old, I saw Jimmy come in every once in a while come in with a friend. He was young, bright, almost goofy, but everyday i just gave him his coffee, smiled and moved on to my next table. He was fresh out of University, going on to become the television broadcaster of the town, everyone knew Jimmy. After the first few times, he started coming alone and would start a small conversation with a little more depth each time. One day, he asked me to sit down and have a coffee with him. I was just finishing my shift, so he waited. He was smooth, smart, knew what he wanted and how to get it, and he was funny as could be. I fell in love with him the first I sat down for coffee.
Once i found out his father had died, i began to try to convince Jimmy to let me meet his mother. Becoming a part of her life was a slow integration, but as Jimmy began working more, his mother and i began to find comfort in one another. Jimmy and i got married, and once he left for work, i would head over to his mothers house. She began to teach me the secret tips of being a housewife. She taught me all the secret recipes passed down from the family, and how to fold a perfect bed sheet. After a few years, I stopped seeing his mother, feeling as if i had learned all i needed to. After all, we had a child on the way.
I was 25 when I had my only child, Paul. He was the one love of my life, besides Jimmy of course. He was to grow up to be strong, independent, successful; that was Jimmy's place. My job was to ensure he was happy, and knew how to treat a woman. I felt a love for Paul that i didn't even know was possible. Jimmy often took him fishing, and Paul would come home laughing about the day. Together, we would set the table and prepare the house for Jimmy to come home from work with dinner on the table and he would tell us about his day. Before bed, Jimmy and I would take turns tucking in Paul, say our prayers, and go to bed. I never wanted my boy to forget to count his blessings and be grateful for what Jimmy's job brought us.
He was 12 years old when it had first happened. They had gone fishing earlier that day, and when they arrived home late in the evening. Dinner was on the table and we all sat down to eat. Jimmy was different that night. I didn't understand why he dismissed Paul when he spoke, and as i cleaned up the dishes from the awkwardly quiet dinner, it was Jimmy's turn to tuck him in and say their prayers. I remember standing in the kitchen, letting the sink overflow as i stood there frozen, hearing my baby scream. I knew Jimmy was angry, but I had never imagined it possible. I stood there reviewing the past 12 years of our marriage, looking for signs in Jimmy's behavior. I considered leaving. Taking Paul and getting out of the house; but we couldn't. We needed his money much more than his company. All I knew was that very night i was expected to lay in bed next to the man who laid his hands on my only child, and worst of all, I was supposed to love him as if i never knew. To protect my child, that was how i was to carry on my life: pretending i never knew.
I started spending every minute i could with Paul, because i knew that every minute he was with me, he didn't have to be with Jimmy. I began asking him to come to the kitchen with me to prepare dinner, or to teach him how to do the dishes. I realized the more things i taught him to do on his own, the faster he could move out and away from Jimmy.
There were always the days i knew i couldn't protect him, and those were the days that were the hardest to get through. I would offer to tuck in Paul every night, telling Jimmy that "I could use the extra prayers, I should count my blessings." but every once in a while, Jimmy would raise his voice and insist that i was to sit on the couch and occupy myself while he tucked in Paul. "The boy needs to grow up", he used to tell me. As Jimmy would make his way upstairs, i would play the piano to drown out the noise.
When it was just me and him, Paul began mentioning what it would be like to move out. He was 15 at the time, so telling him that it could be a good life experience for him, i encouraged it, if only he knew how bad i just wanted to scream out and get him to run while he could. When he was 16, he left and never came back.
I kept in touch with Paul after he left. He would call on the first Tuesday of every month while Jimmy was at work. As time went on, I could tell that life on his own was good. He told me about a woman he met and how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He would end every conversation reminding me to be strong and count my blessings. Soon enough, he stopped calling.
I spent the next 6 years laying beside the man i pretended to love, keeping secrets i never intended to tell. I stayed, because that's what i was raised to do. I continued on with my seemingly perfect life. Everyday when Jimmy came home, the house was clean and dinner was on the table. I would laugh at Jimmy's jokes, and bite my tongue when he'd express false interest in how Paul's life was coming along. I swore to myself that Jimmy would never see me cry. In these 6 years, i had created my own hell by keeping the secrets i couldn't dare to confess.
2217 days came and left before i heard from Paul again. The day he called back, my mind jumped back to that first day it happened when i was standing in the kitchen. 14 Years had passed since that night they went fishing, that sink overflowed, and Paul was left to count his few blessings on his own, yet i still felt that same guilt that i was unable to protect him to the extent i wish i could've.
On the phone that day, I found out i had 4 grandchildren: the oldest boy and 3 girls, twins and the youngest. The eldest was the protector, and all the girls followed him. The twins were directly reflective of one another. They completed each others sentences and were virtually inseparable at the ripe age of four. The youngest girl had just been born. She had my eyes and her mothers smile. It was at that point I realized my life was about to change. I asked Paul about his wife. What was she like? Would I be able meet her soon enough? His voice dropped. The depth and joy in his words while explaining his children were gone and all that remained were empty words. He slowly explained that he lost her during the birth of the youngest, brightest girl. There he stood, with four children under the age of 6, and he couldn't do it anymore. 14 years from the day i chose to do nothing, he needed me once again. So I agreed. I took his children off his hands to protect them from the street. Jimmy and I took in our grandchildren that we didn't even know existed, and within a few days, we were the parents of young children once again, and Paul had ran away for the second time in his life.
I looked at Paul's children as my own; as my second chance. I would protect these children as I wish I had protected Paul. In my mind, by this point, Jimmy had changed. It had been 9 years since Jimmy last laid his hands on my child, and after becoming my own worst enemy, I had to force myself to believe that he'd changed.