I've Never Stopped Loving Chris Mallon

CH 36 (11) - Parents

Saber and Bark didn't get along well when their owners moved in together. Her Royal Highness the Cat required respect from her minions, but the overly excited pup only wanted to play chase and chew on her ears. She grew to tolerate her annoying little brother after she realized that no amount of hissy fits and slaps to the snout would change her predicament. I turn on the camera and watch as Saber and Bark bump their noses together before starting to groom each other. They had a rocky start, but they became best friends over time.

I exchange a few e-mails with Jamie's manager. We discuss the logistics of Jamie's upcoming hospital visit to children's cancer patients. It's not the first time he held a short secret concert for sick children but organizing one while keeping it hush-hush is hell to pull off. It doesn't bother me. Seeing the joy and excitement on children's faces makes every second of hard work worth it.

My phone starts ringing. The caller ID says Mom. We talk at least once a week. Nothing short of that would assure her that I'm all right. I answer the phone. She tells me about the neighbor's dog that jumped over two fences to steal their grilled chicken. Then she asks me all the usual questions. How are you? How's your head? Is Jamie keeping you busy? I nod along the conversation even though she can't see me and assure her that everything is all right. "Are you seeing someone?" She knows how lonely I am. How much I want a boyfriend. She asks me that question often but it still comes as a surprise. I hesitate. Should I tell her? About Chris?

Mom picks up on my hesitation. "There is someone. Isn't it?" She speaks fast and loud, the excitement obvious in her voice. "What's his name? How did you meet? Is it new? How long have you been together? Why haven't you told me? Is it serious? How serious it is?" I sigh. Knowing the answers to those questions will ruin the excitement she feels for me. "It's Chris. We've met a month ago and... reconnected. He's changed. I know it's hard to believe but it's the truth. He's been good to me. So good."

There is silence on the other end. It takes mom a minute to process what I have just said. "Oh, baby, no. Please, no. Don't do that to yourself again." I can hear it in her voice. The fear. The sadness. "I don't want to talk about it over the phone. This week is busy for me since Jamie will have one of his mini-concerts, but I can take a day off Sunday and come home. All right?" There is more silence on the other end. I can feel there is a lot she wants to say to me. But she, too, understands that this should be said face to face. "All right. See you Sunday."

Sunday comes all too soon. I'm not prepared for the conversation that awaits me. I don't know what to tell them. I need to make them believe me. But how can I? When I lied to them so much?

I hug dad when he picks me up from the airport. I hug mom when she opens the door for us when we reach home. It's been a few months since I've last seen them. I missed them. Nice smell brings me to the kitchen. Mom baked fresh bread. I came right in time for breakfast. We sit around the table. Fill our plates with eggs and bacon. Spread butter and jam on bread. We chit-chat about friends and neighbors. Discuss things that aren't of importance. There's a strict rule in my family that no heavy topics should be approached on an empty belly or in the middle of the meal. But now that our bellies are full and the meal is over, I know it's time for me to start talking. "It's been a little over a month since I met Chris. He came to NY on a business trip. We've talked about what happened. He apologized. He regrets what he's done to me. We went on a date. Spent a night together. I've seen him twice since then. He's out. Has been since his father died. He has changed. He's been good to me. Gentle. Hasn't hurt me or scared me once. He's different." Believe me. Please, believe me.

Mom takes my hand in hers. "It's good he apologized. It's good he hasn't hurt you. But, baby, it's only a matter of time." Her voice is filled with fear and sadness, but also compassion. "People like him don't change." I shake my head. "It's not the same. Chris isn't a bad person. He's not... sadistic. He had hurt me in high school, but that had more to do with him and his insecurities than with me. Things are different now. He's different now. His father's death gave him the freedom to be himself." Mom doesn't agree with me. I can see it in her eyes. She opens her mouth to say something, probably something about abusers always being abusers, even if external factors that made them abusive in the first place are removed, but I raise my hand in a stop gesture, and use my other hand to dig my phone out of my pocket.