Sleeping Part 3

That was the second event that I had to deal with. I can’t help but realize now that the two are connected. At that point, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up my little act much longer. Looking back, I really wish I had taken the chance to talk to Ms. McClendon. She might have been able to help me, or at least given me someone to talk to. I think that was what I really needed. Maybe if I had been able to talk to somebody, it would have been easier to keep up my charade longer. As it happened, it only lasted for another few months. Well, obviously, because here we are. Really, without realizing it, my whole act was falling apart. My teachers had been noticing changes, and I had to believe Ms. McClendon was starting to suspect something else was up, so who knows what would have happened by now. Yet at the same time, I kinda know what would have happened. That’s the whole reason I finally woke up and said something. It’s the whole reason I’m here today. You see, today is my birthday, and my mom gave me one hell of a present. She actually told me why she murdered my father.
So like I said, today is my birthday. I hadn’t planned anything because, what was the point? I figured that having a bunch of people over that I hadn’t really talked to unless I had to in the past six months would be a bad idea. So after school, I decided that I would spend the day at home, trying to avoid my mom. The last thing I wanted was to have to talk to her. She had been becoming really agitated in the past few weeks, and I couldn’t figure out why. And with her getting more and more stressed, I started to get more and more stressed because I was afraid. I remember thinking that maybe I would go to the store and buy some cigarettes, and try to smoke those, see if it helped. I mean, I was eighteen now, I could do it. That’s when it hit me. I was eighteen, an adult. My mom couldn’t speak for me anymore. She couldn’t forbid the police from talking to me. I sat upright, suddenly alert with the thought that I could end it all. But I squashed it just as quickly as it came. I mean, yeah, I could talk to the police, but why would they believe me? It had been six months, my mom had been publicly absolved of committing any crime, she hadn’t really even been charged. And even if I did get to talk to someone, and by some miracle they did believe me, what would stop my mom from just killing me. No, the best bet was to go back to sleep, and try to forget all about it. I figured there was no way I would ever make it out of my house alive if I screwed up and started talking now. I slumped back into the couch and turned on the TV. I guess I zoned out or something, because I didn’t even see or hear my mom come in to the room.
“Jason, did you hear me?”
I shook my head and blinked my eyes, coming back to reality. “Huh?”
“I said, happy birthday.” My mom was standing in the doorway, looking at me. Her face was a mix of emotions. I could tell she was worried about something, but she also had a strange look of accomplishment, like she had just solved the biggest riddle of all. Surprisingly, that wasn’t far from the truth.
I don’t know if I mentioned this, but my father was a businessman, and was very good at his job. He was the CEO of a collections agency, and apparently had a fair number of stock holdings. Anyway, because of his job, my father was able to afford a decent life insurance policy, and when he ‘died’ my mother received all his shares in the company stock, along with the life insurance payout, and some compensation from the company. I have also learned that instead of staying involved with the company, my mom sold all of her shares. All told, I think my mom ended up with almost a million bucks, which is just sickening. I have to think she knew about the life insurance policy, and all of his stock holdings. It makes me sick to think that it all came down to what it always comes down to: money. My mom wanted some quick money, and knew that she would be able to get away with killing my dad, because of the history of abuse. I wonder when she decided to go through with it. Anyway, the point is, my mom had access to a lot of money, and she was also worried about keeping me quiet. I guess she also figured out that since I was eighteen, she couldn’t forbid the cops from talking to me, so she needed a different way to shut me up. Well, she found it.
“Jason, can I talk to you for a minute?”
I didn’t answer; I just stared at the TV, again wanting the past six months to be a dream. I got to thinking like that every time she spoke to me.
“Jason, honey, I know you miss your father.” She sat down at the opposite end of the couch from me. “But really, we have to move on. And as bad as it sounds, I think I found the way.”
I couldn’t help it: I turned my head to look at her. “What’s that?” I asked quietly.
“Well, you might not have known this, but since your father basically ran the Ionia Collections Agency, he owned a number of stock shares of the company. When he died, I got those shares, and I sold them. They came out to being a substantial sum of money.”
My jaw dropped. She couldn’t possibly be going where I thought she was with this.
“I don’t think that your father would have wanted you to be drifting through life as if you were asleep.” (Shit, she noticed too?) “He would want you to be out there with your friends, having fun, doing whatever it is you do.”
I was starting to get sick from the fake sweetness in her voice. I couldn’t believe that she thought I had forgotten, or that I believed her. Before I could even say anything to her, she went on.
“That is why I’m going to give you some of the money that I got. It’s only fair, he was your father, and some of it should go to you. What do you think of that?”
“We...well,” I stammered. “I…”
“Good, then it’s settled. Now like I said, I got quite a bit, but I need a lot of it for paying off some old loans your father and I had, so how about I give you ten thousand. I figure that is fair, and you can do with it what you like.”
“But, but…” Everything was moving so fast, I could barely think.
“The only thing sweetie,” she was smiling again. (And never before had she called me sweetie). “The only thing is that we finally have to put this horrible business behind us. We have to move on, and live our lives. We have to let the past stay in the past. Don’t you agree?”
There it was. I knew it, there had to be a catch somewhere. She was trying to buy me off. She knew that I could go to the cops if I wanted to, and rather that do anything to me, she would rather try and buy my silence. I couldn’t believe it. I was furious with her. I wanted to scream at her, to hit her, to hurt her even to kill her, all in anger and for revenge. Revenge for killing my dad, and for making me live in a hell for six months. There was so much I wanted to do, and to say, but I couldn’t make my body work. My mouth was glued shut, I couldn’t say a word. Instead, I shook my head, not knowing what else to do.
“What,” Said my mom, the sweetness leaving her voice instantly, “Do you want more? Greedy little bastard, fine, how much do you want? What will it take?”
I stood up, backing away from her, still shaking my head.
“No,” I said, forcing the word out.
“What do you mean no?” Mom’s voice sounded like it did that night, when she told me to not say a word.
“I mean I don’t want any money!” I screamed at her. “I want my father, but I can’t have that can I, because you murdered him!”
That was the first time in six months that I said out loud what really happened that night. It was the first time that it was made perfectly clear to her that I knew what happened.
“Well,” said my mom, her voice calm and frightening, “we shall see.”
With that she turned out of the room. Without really thinking about it, I knew where she was going. It was true she couldn’t give my father to me, but she could send me to my father. I suddenly realized what I had done, and that I was in serious danger. Part of me wanted to run away, but the rest of me wanted to go back to sleep. I almost lay down on the floor and closed my eyes. It was like a re-run of six months ago. It was just easier to sleep than to say anything. Just act like I don’t care anymore, that was the secret.
NO, a part of me yelled. THE TIME FOR SLEEP IS OVER. YOU NEED TO RUN. YOU NEED TO WAKE UP.
Why bother, the other part asked. What is the point?
WHAT IS THE POINT? THE POINT IS TO LIVE. RUN. YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT SHE IS GOING TO KILL YOU THIS TIME, RIGHT?
So tired…I just want to sleep.
NO, RUN! WAKE UP…YOU NEED TO…YOU MUST-
Wake up?
YES! WAKE UP, GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE SHE COMES BACK, GO TO THE POLICE, GO TO SOMEONE, ANYONE. IT DOESN’T MATTER RIGHT NOW-
But-
JUST DO IT! JUST-

- WAKE UP!

You ever space out when you’re staring at something, when your eyes just go out of focus? You know how it feels when you snap out of it? That’s what that moment was like for me. It was like everything snapped back into focus, like I’d just been staring off into space forever. Which I guess basically I was doing. Anyway, I snapped out of it and just bolted. I knew I didn’t have any time to think, so I just ran out the door. I’m not really even sure how long I ran, I just ran. After a while I slowed down and started thinking. I needed to tell someone, and the police would be my best bet. But I figured my mom would think that was where I was headed and try to beat me there. Not really knowing what to do, I wandered for a bit, just walking around town. It was like I didn’t have a care in the world. I realized that while I was sleeping winter faded and spring arrived. Everything was in bloom and beautiful and alive. So was I; I was alive. I headed down to the park to sit and think. I checked my watch and realized it had been about an hour since the living room, and that it was way past time to do something. So I got back up and headed down here, checking over my shoulder every so often for my mom. I never saw her, not even once. Maybe she just stayed at home. Maybe she ran. Maybe she shot herself and this doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t know, but I still had to tell the story. So I walked in and went up to the desk, placed my hands on it, and very calmly said:

“My name is Jason McDouglas, and I would like to report a crime. My mother murdered my father six months ago, and I witnessed it. I know I’m a bit late in coming forward, but I was out of touch with things for a while. But I’ve woken up, and would like to tell the story. Is there someone I can talk to?”