UNEDITED
Not all storms come to disrupt your life, some come to clear your path.
Those are the words that Justin McCallister has been repeating in his mind since the day he was diagnosed with a non-cancerous brain tumour that's been causing partial...
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Justin
This is the part I was not looking forward to. It's the part that really messes with my head because it's not myself I'm dealing with – it's my father and his twisted, abnormal mind that even the smartest psychiatrist can't crack.
Addie still hasn't let go of my hand. Even when she got up to grab one of my mom's homemade chocolate chip cookies. She's now sitting beside me, nibbling on a cookie. I still can't believe she's here. That she was the one who knocked on my bedroom door. That she's still here, wearing her tight black leggings and half-cut rose-pink sweater. Catching glimpses of her stomach is almost enough to put me over the edge.
"Okay," she says, turning so she's sitting cross-legged on my bed. "I'm ready for sure this time. Tell me more."
I take a deep breath. "So you know my father worked for the RCMP, right?"
She nods.
"Okay, well, about a year and a half after I started having seizures, things started getting rocky between my parents. It started with unusual disagreements, glares over dinner – stuff like that. I was young, but kids have the tendency to notice when things are off. Anyway, my parents announced their divorce to Chris and I the winter before I was diagnosed. Things got pretty hectic. Chris was forced to go back and forth, family members took sides, my friends at school left me behind – it was war. The fighting got worse, but not on Mom's part. My father was unstable. He made threats, had tantrums, and scared all of us. He was abusive. At first it wasn't physical, mainly just emotional and mental. It was like I didn't know him anymore."
I pause, rubbing my jaw. This part is always so hard to explain. None of my words do it justice. I was there by my mom's side through everything, experienced it all, but I can never find the right words. Everything I say comes up short.
I glance at Addie. She's listening intently, waiting for more, her blue eyes filled with concern.
"This lasted for a good five months. I remember the late-night calls that lasted longer than normal. The tension between my father and my grandparents. My father was catastrophic. He took every jab he could at my mom to make her look like a terrible parent in front of the court when he was the terrible parent. I know parents need to work to provide for their kids and themselves, but he was constantly focused on work. And when he came home, he was distant and detached from our home life. Honestly, he acted like a psychopath. How can someone be so put together at work, only to come home and act like a total asshole? It just makes no sense."
I pause and take a sip of my drink to warm my body up. This part of the story always manages to send chills down my spine.
"So what happened next?" Addie asks, brushing her thumb along the back of my hand. I take a moment to be selfish and enjoy her touch. "With your parents."
"One sunny day in May, Chris and I were outside playing soccer on the lawn, and Mom was sitting on the patio reading a book. It had been a great day, actually – something neither of us had really experienced for a long time – up until I heard tires aggressively grating against the gravel. See, Chris and I were supposed to go to our father's house that night and he had come to pick us up. But the moment I heard that noise, I knew something was wrong. And my feelings were confirmed when I saw the way he was walking, dressed in his jeans and T-shirt, sunglasses on."
