H-hey God. It's Buck. Can I ask you a question? Why? Why did you take her from us? Amy wasn't even born yet and you just let her die. It's just something I can add to my pain. I hope you don't mind me saying this but why do you keep taking people from me? My mother? My father? Mr. Skint? I know he wasn't an ideal father but he was a father to me. Thanks for the Meltsners by the way. They gave me a family. And I have a father now. But sometimes I think it would just be easier if I was born into their family. I can't imagine what Jules is going through. She cries so much. She sees Connie more than ever. I know I need to visit Mom and Dad more but I just can't bring myself to do it. You know how much Mom calls us. She's so sweet to do that. To make sure we're ok every day. I'm not usually ok until she calls. Hearing my mom's voice even if she is my adopted mother's voice is so calming. In jail, I lived to get letters from Miss Katrina. The days when I got a letter from her were the best days of the worst year of my life. No one should have to spend 7th grade in jail. You know, it was so anticlimactic. Jules and I were going to be parents. And you stopped it from happening. Do you know how much it hurts? To watch my wife through blurred eyes break down into endless sobs every day? All I know to do is hold her until sleep gives us a break from the tears and heart ache. Because right now, my nightmares are better than reality.
I'm alright. I'll be ok. Yes, I lost my first baby. It was a dramatic experience and a painful one. I can't sleep at night. I cry for hours at a time. But I'll be ok because I know that no matter how much pain I'm in it's nothing compared to what Buck is feeling. We hide our emotions. It's how we were raised. Buck was raised to lie. And I was raised to not have feelings. Living in Odyssey has changed both of us a lot, but we can still react like we did back when we were kids. Buck will lie about his emotions to everyone but me. I can't keep my emotions in as much so I go to Connie or Olivia when I can't go to Buck. I'm all he has for comfort because besides for his parents, I'm the only person Buck can turn to. Yes. I'll be ok. Whatever happens, I'll be alright. My life has been amazing. Sure, my parents got divorced when I was 7 and now I've lost my baby. Buck? Buck lost both of his parents, he lost the only father figure from his childhood, he went to jail and now he's lost a child. That's simply not fair. I can't imagine what he's going through. All that pain and loss. It must be horrible for him. Ya, my sense of reality is being stripped from me and my life is falling apart but I'll be just fine.
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I stayed up all night praying, trying to gain back the sense of reality that had been so brutally snatched from me. I found myself begging God to bring Katrina healing, and I prayed that God would somehow avert the tragedy before me. ‘Katrina and I cannot have children?’ The prospect was confusing, and also heartbreaking. Why would God do that to us? Didn’t we deserve kids? My face was soaked with tears as I tried to figure out what the news meant. No children. Eugene Meltsner will never be a father. And Katrina, oh dear Katrina. She would have made an amazing mother. And our kids! One could only imagine what they could have accomplished. They would have been extremely intelligent. Katrina loves children. Children had always been a source of hope for us. They were something to look forward to. If all else failed there was always a glimmer of hope, that someday, we would be parents. But no. Life felt so empty then.
I love kids. I love watching children learn. I love watching them succeed. I'm a teacher. I teach kids all day and I love it. I've always wanted to have children. Eugene and I both have. Children would make our lives complete in so many ways. But yesterday we found out we can't have children. I don't know what to do. It doesn't seem real yet. And what should we do? Should we adopt? Become foster parents? And does God just want us to go on with our lives? Like he hasn't destroyed my sense of peace and security? And Eugene. At times he doesn't seem affected by the news. And lately all he wants to do is-is do things. I get that's how he distracts himself from his pain, but at this time we don't need distractions. We need to face the situation before us. I've tried alone but I'm having trouble coping on my own. I need my husband to face it with me. Oh, dearest journal, in my time of struggle you seem like the only one I can turn to. For today, a day which started out with such joy, has turned to bitter regret and misery. Today my dear sweet son, Eugene Meltsner, died. It seems like all the light has been drained from our nightmare of a prison. The only thing that brought me happiness, Thelma's beautiful face, has too been taken from me. For her eyes, which once held hope are now pierced with a stinging sadness. I'll never forget her madding scream that bolted through the solid rock walls when we got the news. As she cried I just held her in my weak, struggling arms while trying to make sense of it all and restrain the tears that would later spill out profusely. I cry even now as I write this and I can't shake the feeling that I am partially responsible for my son's death, for if I had only taken him with us, I might not have lost him. What rips me apart the most though is that just seven years ago I wanted to kill him myself. And now he's actually gone. Such a waste. He was brilliant. The smartest kid I ever knew. All the things he could have done. He could have cured cancer. Gone to Mars. Converted radio waves to brain waves. He was so smart. I just keep imagining his face full of terror. He must have been so scared. He died in a train explosion. He died quickly I suppose. Didn't feel much pain. How could he leave us? His parents in pain like this. How could Dalton do this? It's his fault! All of it! He killed my son, leaving my wife in agony. I'll never forgive him for this. Ever.
Today. Today my son died. My only son died. Eugene. I saved his life. And now he's dead. We only got 7 years with him! Now all we do is cry, eat when we can, and sleep. Leonard and I haven't talked about the fact that Leonard's wish to not have a son has been granted. It's much to painful to discus. I know we should but neither one of us can seem to bring it up. How could we? I have a gaping hole in my heart that I know can only be filled by seeing my son again. But now he's gone. And I'll never see him again. I'll never get to hold him again. I'll never see him smile again. Eugene was taken from me and now I fear that like a small, helpless boat, Leonard is drifting away as well. And I don't know what to do to bring him back to shore. I walked up to the front of the class and looked out at everybody. This week's project had been to write about a scary experience. Most everyone did a report on the time they were in a tornado or when they were almost attacked by a dog. My report was different though. I knew it was much scarier than the others. I was ready now though, Eugene went over it with me a zillion times. But I was still really nervous. My hands shook as I began my essay,
"So, a lot of you have asked me to tell you about my life before I came to Odyssey, so I decided to make my report about that. So um, here it goes." As I read my essay the whole scene played out in my head. I walked through the door of our little trailer, a place I once called home. Mr. Skint sat at the table, dazed and holding a large bottle of beer. "Mr. Skint I- Oh. Um, I'll come back later." "No. You'll stay right here." I closed the flimsy, plastic door behind me. "Tell me how it went." "I- I lost him." "What?!" "I'm sorry Mr. Skint, I really am. I'll make it right. W-we can fix it." "I'm not worried about that now. What did I tell you would happen if you messed this up?" "No Mr. Skint. Please. Please." "Into the bedroom Buck." He rose from the chair and walked towards me. "Mr. Skint, please! I can find him again, don't hurt me." He pushed me several times until I was in the bedroom. Helpless, I ran to the corner. "What are you gonna do?" He didn't answer. He just locked the door and went to the closet. My heart raced and my mouth went dry. I didn't know what to do. I never did. Mr. Skint pulled a leather belt from the closet. "Turn around boy." All I could say was, "No. Please no." He angrily grunted and grabbed my wrist. I tried to break free but he was too strong. He shoved me onto the ground and to my terror threw his bottle at me. It hit my back and shattered. I shouted in pain and felt streams of blood fall down my back and soak through my clothes. Tears rolled down my face and now too petrified to move, I complied with his wishes. I pulled myself up, put my head on the bed and grasped the covers with all my might. I held back sobs and waited. Then the whipping began. With every blow, glass cut into my skin and the feel of leather burned my back. I had never seen Mr. Skint so angry. He cursed at me, said he wished I was never born and that he hated me. He only beat me for half an hour but it felt like an eternity. I cried the whole time, begging him to stop but it didn't do any good. He afflicted so much emotional and physical pain that by the time he finally let off, I felt utterly useless. Through blurred eyes I stumbled into the bathroom with the little energy I had left and immediately threw up in the toilet. I guess Mr. Skint found it funny or something, cause I heard him laugh. Desperate to get away I forced myself out of the room, grabbed my stuffed dog, (the last present my mom had given me), and ran to the nearest pond. I just curled up on the wooden dock and cried for hours. And with each rain drop and tear that fell, I too wished I had never been born. A lot of kids in Odyssey have told me that they wish they could go on the adventures I've gone on, or live the way I lived, and every time someone says that, it confuses me because I never understand why someone would wish they could be in pain. My voice shook as I finished my presentation and I don't know why but everyone clapped as I sat back down. I looked up at Miss Katrina who had tears of pride in her eyes. She smiled at me and silently mouthed the words, 'I will never hurt you.' The day I took Buck to the police station was one of the hardest days of my life. I hated sending him away like that. He cried the whole way to the police station. He just held the few things he had left and looked out the window with tears streaming down his beautiful cheeks. Everything in me was screaming not to turn him in. I wanted to turn the car around and put him somewhere safe until it was all over. But we both knew it was the right thing to do. At his trial he just kept his head on my shoulder and I held his hand that trembled with fear. While he was up on the stand he kept looking back at me as if to make sure I wasn't going to leave him like everyone else had. I'll never forget the face he made when the judge sentenced him. And by the time we had said our last farewells I knew he had no pride left. I just remember crying into Eugene's arms wondering how I could have abandoned him.
Dear Mr. Eugene and Miss Katrina,
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I didn’t want to. But I did, and then you yelled back. You scared me. I was scared of what you would do next. After you shouted at me you had this look in your eyes. I haven’t seen that look for a long time. I hoped I would never see it again. It was the look my mother gave me when I tried to stop her from drinking. It was the look Vance’s friends gave me before they beat me up. It was the look Mr. Skint gave me before he threw something at me. And you had that look. I guess I thought you would do the same thing. You made me cry. I cried because I let you down. I cried because I was scared. After I saw how angry you were, I fell on the ground, helpless, waiting for a hard, sharp blow to the head. But it never came. You didn’t scold me. You didn’t hit me. You didn’t throw anything at me. You didn’t even tell me to get up. Instead, you got on the ground with me. You held me in your secure harmless arms until I stopped crying. Then you apologized. You told me you were sorry. You said you did something wrong. There was no blaming. No anger. Just love. But you were angry, weren’t you? Just like my mother, Vance’s gang, or Mr. Skint. So what made your anger different? Ephesians 4:26, “In your anger do not sin.” I held back tears and cringed as the cold cloth touched my face. My other hand pressed and ice pack against my black eye. "It stings." I said, trying not to get angry. Katrina sighed, "I know. But we have to get the dirt out of these cuts before infection sets in." I bit my lip and let her continue to clean my face. Just then a stinging pain penetrated my stomach. I gripped my side and nearly shouted. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" Katrina's tone sounded scared. And I hated it. "I'm fine, my stomach just hurt all of the sudden."
"They hit you in the stomach?" I nodded, then cringed again after a second pain stabbed higher up. "That's it take off your shirt." "It's not that bad." I lied. "Then prove it." "Fine." I did as I was told and removed my shirt. Katrina gasped at the sight of the many bruises that polluted my stomach and chest. "Are there more on your back?" I nodded hesitantly. Katrina sighed then grabbed the cloth. "Please don't. It'll hurt." I knew the pain would be greater this time. "No more than cleaning your face did." I looked down and reluctantly complied. She started to clean a cut close my shoulder. I was struck with a sensation of fear and pain as I waited for her reaction. Then it came. "Buck there's a scar on your back." "More than one." I quickly wiped away shameful tears. "They're glass cuts." She stated shocked. I nodded. I sat down on the bathroom floor and buried my face in my arms. Katrina sat down next to me and gently put her hand on my head. "Will you let me continue?" She gently asked. I nodded at turned around. I clinched my fists and she started cleaning again. "Do you want to tell me how you got these scars?" I practically whispered my answer, "Mr. Skint." "He abused you?" My mind was drowned in a sea of terrifying memories. "Not very often." I half reassured her and myself. "Usually when he was drunk. He just got angry sometimes. The glass was from bottles." "Oh Buck. I am so sorry. I had no idea." "No one did." "But pastor Juan-" "He didn't know." A tear fell down my cheek. "It's fine though. Don't worry. They don't hurt much anymore." I winced and gripped my stomach. "Here." Katrina handed me the icepack. I held it against the bruise and turned back so I was leaning against the bathtub. Katrina walked over to the sink and washed the blood from the cloth. "I'm sorry about this." I said as I put my shirt back on. "I- I should have been more careful." "No." She knelt down beside me. "There's no way you could have know this would happen." "But maybe if I had just walked a different way home or something. I hate to waste your time with this." Katrina put her hand on my shoulder with tears in her eyes. "Buck, look at me. It's not a waist of time. Don't ever say that. I told you when you came to live with us that I would do everything I can to help you turn your life around and that's still true. Nothing will change that." I forced a small smile. "Thanks." Though I still hated putting her through my pain. "Do you feel like eating anything now?" I shook my head. "No. No I think I just want to go to bed." "Ok." Katrina smiled with empathy. "I'll be downstairs if you need anything." "Ok." I waited for her to leave then set the ice pack on the counter and walked out onto the landing where I could see into the living room. I sat down and leaned against the railing. Eugene was just sitting on the couch starring at the fireplace. Katrina came in and sat down next to him. She was immediately embraced and I knew I was safe. I woke up to my own shouting. I sat up still consumed by my own conceptions. Tears were streaming down my face. I backed into a corner of my bed and was struck with a familiar spell of seemingly endless sobs. I jerked my head up when I heard my door open. Eugene walked in. "Buck? Buck what's wrong?"
"It was just a nightmare. I'll be alright." I said between sobs. I panted in an attempt to calm myself down. "What was it about? Why are you upset?" The questions brought a new set of sobs. He didn't understand. No one did. "How can I help?" Eugene asked putting his hand on my shoulder. "Just don't leave. Please don't leave." I begged. "Here, lie back down." He helped me get under the covers, whose warm grasp still felt unusual. As tears fell on my pillow I tried to catch my breath. Eugene sat next to the bed stroking my head and humming a beautiful song. "What's that?" I asked when I didn't recognize the tune. "Miracles. From The Prince of Egypt." "Will you sing it?" I hesitantly asked. He smiled and nodded. I drifted back to sleep calmed by Eugene's soft singing. I don't think I'll ever forget Eugene and I's first fishing trip at Trickle Lake. The morning Eugene asked me to go fishing with him was one of the best mornings of my life. I was ecstatic. I just couldn’t believe that Eugene wanted to go fishing with me! We went up to the lake at about 10:00 A.M. It was a beautiful day. On the way there I tried to explain as much as I could about the right kind of bait to use and how to find the place in the water with the most fish, "So when fishing for a bass, I've found it's best to use crankbait." Eugene nodded intently, keeping his eye on the road. "They don't usually have them at dock fishing shops so I brought a couple of my own."
Eugene seemed surprised, "Really? How many lures do you have?" "Just a few. I used to have more but I couldn't take all of them with me when-" It hurt too much to finish the sentence. I didn't want to think about the juvenile detention center. Eugene sighed, he understood, “Buck, I’m sorry, I know it’s hard.” "It's ok." I looked down at my small plastic box of lures and swallowed hard, trying not to think about the other things I had to leave behind. "How many did you have before?" Eugene cautiously asked. I sighed, forcing myself to remember my last year with Mr. Skint, "For my fourteenth birthday, Mr. Skint bought me a big fishing set. It had tons of organized containers with every lure and hook you could want. It was just too big to take with me. I had this set before then." "I see. How often did you and Mr. Skint go fishing?" "As often as we could. Sometimes we would go out on the lake and just sit there, fishing and talking for hours." There was a drawn out pause as I remembered the long, peaceful days on the water. Eugene finally spoke up, "You miss him, don't you?" "Sometimes. But I wish I didn't. I mean, why should I?" "Why shouldn't you miss him?" "Because- because he left me." I said almost angrily. I paused when I realized where the anger came from, "Miss Katrina said he didn't love me." I glanced up at Eugene, "Why should I miss someone who didn't even love me?" "He was a father to you." I looked back down at the box; I couldn't bare the look he gave me, "You have every right to miss him." "I just wish I didn't,” I said quietly. We drove a little longer, and then Eugene stopped the car. I looked up and realized we were there. All of the sudden a little smirk he had obviously been holding back spread across Eugene's face. "What is it?" I asked, intrigued by his expression. "Oh, call it a surprise." "Ok," I said, getting excited. "Now, don't get out of the car quite yet." I unbuckled and watched as Eugene went around to the back of the car. He got something out of the trunk. I couldn't see what it was though until he said it was all right to come out. I opened the door, got out, then stopped. There in front of me stood Eugene with the same excited grin, holding two dark blue fishing poles; clearly expensive. Awestruck I took one, "Are these- ours?" Eugene nodded. Still bewildered I examined it, running my fingers down the beautifully engineered metal. "But how?" I asked, "This fishing pole is better than any I've ever had." "So?" "So it must have cost a lot of money." "That doesn't matter." “Yes it does,” I looked at the fishing pole. I couldn’t accept it, “You should take it back. You've already given me so much and I don’t deserve it.” “Whether you deserve or not is irrelevant. It’s a free gift.” "Ok but-" I paused and realized where the conversation was headed, "Uh oh, I know that look. There’s a lesson behind this isn’t there?” Eugene laughed, "Is it that obvious?" "Probably not to everyone. So what is it?" "You said that you don't deserve a fishing pole; correct?" I nodded. "Why did you say that?" I didn't want to tell him the real reason, but I tried anyway. The words came out slowly, "Because I've done too many bad things- I, I just haven't earned it." "But I'm giving it to you anyway." "Right." "Well, that's what Jesus did for you." I still didn't get it. "He gave me a fishing pole?" I asked though I was pretty sure that's not where he was going with it. "No," he laughed, "See when Jesus died on the cross, he took the punishment for your sin." "Death?" The concept was almost chilling. "That's right, death. But since Jesus died for you, if you ask him to come into your heart, you won't have to fear death because you'll live with him forever." "But why would he die for me? That's something I never understood." "He died for you because he loves you and he created you with a purpose and plan in mind. God doesn't want you to die so he sent his only son, Jesus to die for you." I stopped to consider what I had just heard. Jesus loved me? I wasn't even sure I believed it. "But, even after everything I've done?" "Yes. And Buck, I want you to know that no matter what you have done or will ever do, Katrina and I will always love you and be here for you." For the first time in a while there wasn't a stinging pain in my heart and I actually smiled, "Thanks Mr. Eugene." See, to hear Eugene say that, while it might not have seemed like a big deal to him, it meant the world to me. We went fishing for four hours that day. Eugene never quite got the hang of putting the bait on the hooks and every once and a while he would tell me some random fact about water or fish or the temperature of the air or something. I guess his inessential amount of knowledge helped in the long run though, cause he caught more fish than I did! As we packed up our things I summoned the courage to ask a question that had been nagging at me, "Mr. Eugene?" "Yes, Buck?" "Earlier you said that God has a purpose in mind for me." "Yes." "Well, what IS my purpose?" Eugene looked down at me, sighed and said, "I don't know Buck, but if you ask God, I'm sure he'll tell you." I paused then asked, "Would, would you help me do that?" Eugene smiled, "Sure Buck." I gasped for breath, panicked and trying to gather my senses. Why now? Why here? I frantically asked myself. Just a few minutes ago I was at Whit's End, running the train set with Emily and Matthew and now I was huddled on the floor, barely able to move. Why did Valery's words upset me so much? I guess it was a mix of the amount responsibility and focus it took to run the trains and the stinging distraction of Valery's mocking. I kept on gasping. All I could say was, "Get Eugene. Just get Eugene." Why did he have to be working when I needed him? He always knows what to do when I have an attack. I could hear Matthew's and maybe Connie's voice around me but I couldn't tell what they were saying. Suddenly I heard my name, "Buck?" Clearly spoken by Eugene. I ran to him. As he held me I realized I was shaking.
It was another hour before my panting stopped. I sat in the library with Eugene. When he noticed my breathing had calmed down he put down his book and rushed to my side. "Better?" I nodded in a fragile daze. The road home brought nothing but silence. I was to tired to talk. I sat on the couch with Miss Katrina until dinner. "I just want it to end" I said as I put my head on her shoulder. "I know." She said gently. But I know she doesn't know how to make it end. Know one seems to know. |
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