“You don’t date?” Alex asked, once again joining Tara and me sitting in the bleachers.
“No,” I said.
“Why ever not,” she asked.
I was ridiculously naïve and socially backward in so many ways. Being raised in an alcoholic family can do that. It was better to hide away and shut down rather than feel the extreme joy or intense pain of life.
Like most of us, I had learned from what my parents taught by how they relate to one another.
How soft are they?
Do they reach for each other’s hand?
Are their kisses open and frequent?
Do they hold the door open for each other?
Are their faces or eyes soft when they look or talk to each other? What about their terms of endearment? I never heard “my love,
honey, dear, sweetie,” or any other pet name.
What I saw, was that my mother had opened her heart to a man, and
in doing so, said, “I trust you” in every way.
She believed a promise of everything better in my father, who at the time was newly returned from serving in the army and beginning his career as a streetcar driver. Mom saw a light in his eyes and was attracted to his sense of humor and carefree spirit. It was an innocence she didn’t experience as a young girl.
What were the examples of a relationship growing up?
They met through a friend who introduced them when my mom had just moved to San Francisco. My father fell in love with the strong woman she seemed to be; so much so, that they committed to each other in every way—to marry, make a life, and have children.
Who knows what went wrong, but ultimately their love was crushed and their hearts were broken. Neither of them made time for each other, or remained tender. They closed their doors and windows and became hard.
A diseased man pushed her and hit her and told her by his love for the bottle, that she wasn’t good enough. Mom wasn’t even second best. His friends at the bar stood in that place.
So for me, the lesson from my parents taught me to shut down, never let anyone in, and especially when it came to a boy, keep my heart closed. Being someone’s girlfriend or wife meant abuse and being a second choice.
To make sure I didn’t have to battle those traumas, I held my sword at my side, ready to slice them from my life as soon as I felt threatened. I didn’t give anyone a chance to explain if I felt wronged.
It was all about trust—or more accurately—the lack of it, and discus- sions such as these are what brought Tara, Alex, and me close together as girlfriends.
APR
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