Novella_Michela

 Mother and Son               <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Oh it was fine mom, you know the usual. I got a lot of homework so I’m going to get a head start before dinner” <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Okay well your dad should be home soon. I’m going to make some beef and potatoes- are you hungry? <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">He continues stomping upstairs- oh the hormonal turbulence of teenage years... <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">- <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">- <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">- <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I wake up to find my mother standing above me, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Chris is pacing the room anxiously, fiddling with his watch. As my eyes blink open she breaths a sigh of relief and collapses into my arms. “My baby, what have you done? “ //I can’t be there mom, I just can’t// I manage to squeak out. //It’s hell//. I notice the searing pain in my forearm, now wrapped in endless amounts of gauze. I am still chained down to the hospital bed; for fear that I might go on a killing spree around the hospital hahahha. //I can’t go back there, I just can’t// I tell her, //you have no idea what it’s like. You send me back there and I’ll kill myself again//. She looks to Chris, who walks up to the bed and puts his arm on my shoulder. “I’ll figure this out, you don’t worry about it, just get some sleep”. This is the first time I’d seen Chris in what seems like a year, but we let the moment pass by effortlessly. He takes out his blackberry and excuses himself to the hall, where I hear him make endless phone calls, bargaining for my freedom. I don’t deserve it at the least. But my dad is rich and has the right connections to make it happen. I threw a fit and probably will get what I want, but I feel horrible about it. I killed my brother, and the crime is unforgivable, but I keep my mouth shut. My mom wants me out of here too I know it. She hates me for what I did but I know she hates herself even more. Maybe if we concentrate on the immediate problem, then the rest will go away. My mom is so caught up in her sudden motherly concern that laws, police, and morals fly away. I lie on the bed faking sleep, listening to the humdrum of activity around me. My dad is working every angle he has I know not for me, but for my mom. I hear the jail time get lower and lower, and my spirit soars. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">- <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">- <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Listen Dan; I have something I need to tell you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“What is it hon?” he says innocently. I take a deep breath and start talking. I tell him everything, from the beginning. I flash through Garrett’s childhood, and the grief I felt in our distance. Tears flooded my eyes as the feelings come back to me. I tell him about Cam’s murder, and the jail time. I tell him about the trial and bring him up to date. As I finish, out of breath and perturbed, I look into his eyes and search for any emotion. At first he’s speechless but after a couple breaths he reaches over and holds my hand. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“If only I’d known”, he begins, “I could have helped you. Karen I should have been there!” //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">It’s over now, it’s all done. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“I can’t even begin to imagine Kar, are you okay?” //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">No Dan, I’ll never fully recover, but I’m trying to see the light in this dark time. You’ve helped me, you know? //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“I’m glad. I’m so so sorry. Nobody should ever have to do it alone. All that…you’re so strong. I’ve always admired that about you- your strength. I swear to god your fucking unshakeable.” //Yeah, you wouldn’t think that if you’d seen me a couple months ago. I was a mess. Such a mess.// //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I couldn’t honey, I was too scared. It took so much out of me to relive that for you. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I can understand his approach to the news. He isn’t playing the father role; he’s being a friend- a supportive friend. I admire him for the way he took the news. I didn’t expect him to react so calmly. It surprises me, but it’s also quite reasonable. After all he never knew any of them. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“I know things, mom” he begins, “I can’t go back to naïveté. I didn’t mean to pry in your personal matters…but you have you understand how it felt. I need to fully understand what really happened between you and Dan. Please mom, just tell me.” I gasped and collapsed into a kitchen chair. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I never wanted you to find out. It’s not your problem- it’s mine //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">. //It’s over now; I just want to move on.// <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“You can’t take him back, after what he did. You just can’t.” //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Sweetie I’m afraid you don’t know the full story. At some point in your life you’ll be able to understand- but I’m afraid I can’t tell you know. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Mom just tell me!! I don’t understand!” This is what I feared. I knew it would come eventually but I was hoping I could put it off for a couple more years. The doctor told me not to tell him, until I was sure that he could handle it… and I know he’s got a long way to go before he’s mentally stable. I just hold him and try to hold back the tears. Nobody told me motherhood was going to be so hard. My heart has been broken many times, and I fear I’ve not yet seen the worst of my problems. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Yeah but how will he react? We can’t just expect him to be able to cope with the information. He’s young, he won’t understand. I don’t want him to think that everything’s his fault, he’ll think himself a monster, and I know Garrett. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“I think sometimes you don’t give your boy enough credit. I want to meet him so badly, he reminds me so much of me. He’s struggling so hard to fit in, but he doesn’t know why it is that he can’t. I think, for him, that it’ll be a relief to know that it’s a medical condition, and not just the way he is. We should really tell him.” As much as I can see the truth in Dan’s words I feel like he doesn’t really know anything about our family. I’m debating between accepting him as part of my family, and completely alienating him from my life. I’ve told him the majority of what happened but it offends me that he think he can fully assess the situation. I have the right to decide how to raise my son…not him! As much as my feelings for him have changed the anger towards him has anything but disappeared. I almost say all of this but I bite my tongue and nod curtly in agreement. Nobody can really help me reach a decision, and once again I am completely alone. I fired Martha a couple weeks ago, when I realized that I was making absolutely no progress with her. She was a dim-witted, greedy woman and I wasted hundreds of dollars for nothing. Still, it was nice to have someone listen to all your problems, even if they did do nothing to solve them. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Dear Dan, //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Please don’t tell my mom any of this or she’ll keep me quarantined for the rest of my life. I know you’re my real dad and even though I don’t even know you I feel like we must have some sort of connection. I don’t need a dad I can tell you that, but I do need answers that my mom refuses to give me. She’s withholding a secret from me, but no matter how hard I try she refuses to tell me. Please, I know you’re in on this so don’t try and act clueless. Whatever it is that she won’t tell me could change everything. You fucking left us and you owe me this. I won’t forgive you for what you did to my mom, although she may be able to. I don’t want a relationship I just want temporary help. Just tell me what the hell is going on. That’s all. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I took a deep breath and pressed send. I might regret this but it can’t get any worse right? It’s getting late so I crawl into bed and slowly drift asleep. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Thanks sweetie, it’s just pasta al pesto though. How was your day- where have you been?” //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I just took a walk because I needed some fresh air. Hey mom I’m just going to go upstairs to finish up some work but call me when dinners ready okay? //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“ //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Okayy sure.” <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I log on and see that he has responded! I take a sigh and prepare myself for whatever comes ahead. I read, //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett- //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">It’s nice to hear from you, your mom has said so many good things about you! //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> [absolute bullshit] //I don’t know whether I’m at a liberty to discuss the situation with you, it’s really your mother’s decision. My relationship with her is rocky as it is, I don’t want to jeopardize that. I know your upset and scared but it’s really not that big of a deal. Your mom will tell you soon enough, I can assure you. I hope all is well with you; I would really like to have lunch with you if you wanted - my treat. Call me if you are interested, I know we have a lot to catch up on. 435-221-0934// <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I am at a loss for words; he seems like a complete jerk. I’m very hesitant to meet him, how can I meet my father after almost 20 years? I can anticipate an awkward and uncomfortable situation between us. I hear my mom’s voice calling me for dinner and I hastily close the lid of the computer and run down the stairs- eager to please her. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">- <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">You okay mom? You look flustered. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Yeah sweetie I’m okay, I just want to talk to you about something.” <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Oh boy. I don’t know if I’m ready for this. For the past week I’ve been dreaming of those words, but now I don’t think I’m ready to face the truth. I feel silly freaking out about something I know nothing about. What if it’s completely meaningless? Then her and Dan wouldn’t have made a huge deal about it. Whatever it is, I’ll find out soon enough! //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Uhh okay mom shoot. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Well…” <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Ugh how I hate the sound of those words, the anticipation grows exponentially in the next half-seconds. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“I don’t really know what you have heard, but I know you’re aware that there’s something going on. I told you I couldn’t tell you until you got older, but I just can’t keep secrets any longer. I don’t really know how you’ll take this, but just know that I’ll always love you- no matter what okay?” //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Yeah yeah whatever just tell me. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Garrett you have a mental disorder.” <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">My jaw drops and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I am completely sane what is she talking about. I start to hyperventilate and she holds my hands tightly. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“We didn’t want to tell you because we didn’t know how you would take it. Everything’s going to be okay I promise. You were diagnosed with it when you were little, but I was stupid and ignored it. Dan knew, and that’s why he left. He didn’t leave until after you were born, after you had been tested. He thought it was his fault, and ran. I would never leave you okay, you know that right??” <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I remain speechless, and she continues. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">"We wanted to tell you sooner, so that you would know that everything that has happened isn't your fault. It's just the way you are Garrett I want you to understand that...please say something." //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I don't know what to say I can't believe what I'm hearing. What is my disease? Tell me what I have. TELL ME. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">"It's called SPD honey. Schizoid Personality Disorder. That's why you always have trouble with social relationships, and always feel alone. It's not you, it's the disorder. I didn't want to tell you earlier because I did not know how you would take it. I see now that I should have told you a long time ago." <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">S P D. That's what I have. It's a medical problem. There is finally a name to my feelings. It's a big relief, but also an incredible frustration. I can imagine how different my life would have been if I had known sooner. Chances are Cam would still be alive. I know she feels guilty enough as it is, but the pain is too great to hold back. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? It's all your fault. You killed Cam, not me! //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">She gasps in horror and I instantly regret what I have just said. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">"How can you say that to me Garrett. I was only looking out for your own well-being. I was trying to spare you the pain and anguish of living in pain." //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Can't you see that I am already in pain? You could have saved our family. GOD why couldn't you have told me? Are you that selfish that you would hide crucial information from me, about my fucking life? You don't even know me anymore...Karen. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Schizoid personality disorder is a psychiatric condition in which a person has a lifelong pattern of indifference to others and social isolation. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">A person with schizoid personality disorder: <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Appears aloof and detached <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Avoids social activities that involve significant contact with other people <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Does not want or enjoy close relationships, even with family members <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">It's strange to see everything laid out in front of me. The broad expanse of information is hard to understand. It’s like I’ve been living a lie. Everything that I believed in- my reality is now turned upside down and proclaimed false with three heavy words. Everything I have been feeling for my whole life, the lack of connection with any of my peers, the feeling that I don’t belong; it happens to other people…ITS NOT JUST ME. I still don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I am still in shock. Granted, my mom approached the situation in the completely wrong way, but I give her credit for telling me the truth. I know it must have been hard for her to keep the information inside this whole time. I bet it was eating her alive. I check myself for any internal changes, but find none. I was hoping that knowing this would automatically heal me but I see now that this was foolish. I want to be able to live a normal life, not condemned to my solitude. I can’t just change the way I am, the way I have always been with the snap of a finger…I need help. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I…told…him and now...he hates me. It is….all my fault. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I weep uncontrollably. //I’ve done it. I have. It’s all over. We ruined him forever.// <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Shhh, it’s all okay. He is in shock, can you blame him? You did the right thing I’m telling you. This is all good. He needs us now than ever Karen, we need to find him help, so that he can finally get better.” I see the truth in his words once again and I trudge home ready to mop up the mess I’ve created. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Hey honey, how was your nap? // <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“It was good. I needed one” <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I let out a comforting laugh…//yeah you did. I want to talk to you about this. I’m sorry I didn’t explain it fully to you this morning- that was a big mistake.// <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“It’s fine mom, really, we both had a lot on our minds. But I would like to know more I am still very much confused.” //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I have to say I don’t know much more than you do, all I know is what the doctors first told me when you were little. At one of you checkups they told me they wanted to run some tests because you were unusually silent and introverted for your age. They told me that you had this condition that affected your social skills, and that you would become increasingly detached but I thought nothing of it. I was a young single mother and I thought it was just another scam. They recommended treatment options, but I scoffed at them. I thought I knew how to raise my own son, and nobody could tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. I knew it was getting worse as you got older but I ignored it, thinking that you would grow out of it soon enough. The night that you killed Cam was when it all hit me. I knew you had built up anger and were nearing a psychotic episode, which the doctors had warned me of. I could do nothing to stop it, only accept that I had failed completely. // //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> But you know what Garrett, let’s put the past behind us. There is treatment for this; I talked about it with a doctor last week. If you’re willing to go have an appointment with him he could subscribe you some medication. Things can get better Gar, I promise. // <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Yeah…I guess that’s what we need to do then. I want to see him mom. I want to be normal.” //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Sweetie you are normal, your brain just reads signals funny and it affects your personality. Don’t think for one second that this condition can define you. Stay strong, and things WILL change. // <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“It was the right thing to do Karen, I love you now.” //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Dan you can’t just leave her without a reason. Your throwing her away like month-old trash, the same way you did to me. This just doesn’t feel right. // <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“I know you don’t like it, but leaving her was the only way I could be with you. We’re meant to be together Karen, since the very beginning.” <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I want to accept this open gesture of affection but in my heart the whole situation feels very wrong. If I want to make things better I have to start with the roots. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">You know what Dan, fuck you. You’re a filthy manipulative piece of shit and you haven’t changed a bit. You can’t just do whatever the fuck you want and play with other people’s lives. You make a fucking commitment, you better be DAMN sure you keep it. I’ve had enough of your bullshit. Whatever this was, it’s over. I don’t ever want to see you again. I deserve better than you, and so does your poor wife. // <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“C’mon honey, what are you saying? I LOVE you.” //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Nah fuck you I’m leaving. That’s enough. BYE. //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I slam the door behind me and as I get into the car I know I made the right decision. Garrett was right- I should have never taken him back!! <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">I left Dan //<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">, I proclaim <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“Atta girl” he says me as he hugs me tightly. <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">When you have the courage and initiative to make things better, they always do. It just takes time, balls, and your family to stand by you every step of the way.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I’ll catch you up. I had always been at his side, yet it felt that I was kneeling by his pedestal. He treated me kindly, yet we both knew that I was greatly inferior. He was kind and charming, easily the most popular kid in our school. I was the outcast, always known as Cam’s twin; I never had a name to them. As he flourished in middle and high school, I became more and more ignored and underappreciated. No matter how hard I tried I was invisible, they only saw him. Even my parents cherished him and treated him as an only child. Of course nobody saw my growing resentment and anger towards Cam- the golden child. How could they have not seen how sad I was? I would come home from school and cry alone, always alone. Whenever I made any friends, the moment that they would meet Cam, they would be completely in awe and follow him around. He drew people to him like bees to honey, and I guess it was his personality. I mean sure, his looks helped…I guess it was everything- he was just too good. As his reputation grew, I became more and more depressed and angry, I would never talk to my parents about this, because I knew that the little concern they would manage to express wouldn’t be genuine or helpful. Instead, I just kept these thoughts to myself and consoled my self with plans to kill him. At first I never intended to follow through, but it gave me pleasure to think of ways I could torture and hurt him, this god-like figure brought down on his knees to serve me. A lifetime of repressed feelings manifested themselves effortlessly in elaborate ideas for his demise. By the time we entered high school I was completely absorbed in these plans, as I felt they gave my life meaning. I thought that the only way I could continue living was without him, as he would always be better than me in everything. I was desperately starved for attention, and that could lead a man onto the brink of insanity.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Giving birth to twins is the hardest thing to a mother. It’s not the excruciating pain I’m talking about, but the lifetime of balance and comparison. How do you make sure you love them equally, and give them each the exact same respect and attention? I was certainly not up to this task, suffering from countless mental illnesses prior to my pregnancy. I was a single mother, yet money wasn’t a problem, as my wealthy parents would send large monthly checks to my doorsteps. I was emotionally unprepared to handle two identical boys, and was constantly worried about if I would raise them poorly. A couple years after they were born I met Chris, a lawyer who I knew I could count on for emotional support. He kept the kids in line and could always lift my spirits but was away most of the time. Cam was always such an easy child, always laughing and smiling, never fussy. Garrett was a different story. He looked nothing like Cam or me with dark hair and deep black eyes. He was moody and always threw tantrums. As a young mother, I was fed up and quickly hired a nanny to take care of Garrett. As they grew up, Cam became one of my best friends. He was the sweetest boy and always knew how to make me laugh. He never got in trouble and his grades were high. His brother struggled to pass, and seemed to enjoy solitude, so I knew better than to bother him. I never felt a real connection with Garrett, as if he was a distant niece of mine. I know that’s horrible to say about a son but I never let this show. I tried to interact often with him, taking him to the movies or to the park with Garrett but I knew he was a little bit jealous of his brother. I didn’t think much of it, and the time passed quickly.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I guess it’s always tough to have siblings, but twins are the worst. There is constant competition, which is made worse by the fact that in Cam’s and my relationship, I am //no// competition to him. I guess we used to be friends, when we were little, but never the real brotherly bond you would expect. I think this was always one of my mom’s regrets, that we were never close. Sometimes I wish that we could have been friends, maybe if he weren’t so goddamn perfect there would have been a chance. I try to avoid him as much as I can, so living in a big house comes in handy. My dad is pretty cool I guess. He lets Cam and I have a lot of freedom, but I know he would beat me up if I ever did anything wrong. I think that’s the kind of man my mom needs, someone solid with good intentions. My mom… I know she feels bad about me, as if I’m a bad egg in her nest. She tries to make it all seem okay; smooth everything over with a magical iron, but this isn’t Disneyland. When I turn 18 I’m getting the hell out of here, to a place where I can make my own stories and live my own life, out of my brother’s image. God I can’t wait.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Cam and my mom are visiting colleges this week, so I’m home with my dad. My grades are horrible so I’ll probably end up going to the community college down the street. I try to mask the pain I feel from them because I hate pity. I know I’m just as smart as Cam- but I don’t care enough. I know that as hard as I try, as long as I live with my family I’ll never be truly happy. I guess I’m just trying to get by until I can leave. God knows what I want to do with my life- I really like medicine but I would never tell anyone. They would probably laugh at me. Actually, I don’t really know whom I would tell…
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Cam and I are flying out to New York for the vacation. We’re going to tour some colleges there and hopefully go a bit lower south to New England. He really wants to go to Yale, and I fully support him. He has such a drive and I admire that so much. With his grades, he could probably go anywhere he wants. He tutors kids in math and science, plays two varsity sports (football and tennis), and volunteers at the senior center. That’s not nearly everything my boy Cam has done though, he is such a good kid. His dad will pay for any tuition, so I guess the choice is up to Cam about which school he likes best. I’m so proud of him… he has such potential. I asked Garrett if he wanted to come with us, but he just shrugged it off. We both know that he’ll never get into a good school, and although I try to have high hopes for him, I don’t want him to be disappointed. I guess where all just trying to get by huh.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> My life sucks. I failed English, and my parents are trying to act upset, even though they don’t care enough. Great. Actually I do have some good news. I meet a pretty cool chick today- her name is Gabby. She sat next to me in the assembly today, so we started talking. She isn’t like the rest of the girls, who are ditzy and stupid. She actually has a heart and a brain, which I find refreshing. She’s really funny and I think I’m into her. We’ll see how it plays out.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Gabby and I have been talking a lot. I really enjoy talking to her… she’s really cool. She’s into rock music and video games, which is pretty hot if you ask me. I can’t really build up the nerve to ask her out, maybe next week…
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Living with two teenage boys is an absolute nightmare. They are loud, dirty, needy, and impatient. Testosterone has run rampant around this house, and I need a break. I don’t know how many more mood swings I can stand! Chris says that it’s just a stage and it’ll pass soon enough, but I’m absolutely fed up. Things have been rocky with Chris- his constant absence has taken a big toll on our relationship. I wish he could take more time off to spend with us, but seeing as I’ve never had a steady job, he needs to keep working tough hours. In the meantime, I do housework, act as the boy’s chauffer and personal chef, and manage to get small jobs as a secretary or a various assistant gig. Just something to pass the time, you know? I have a couple girlfriends that I like to have drinks with on weekends. It’s nice to have people to talk to when you’re feeling down on yourself. Garrett’s attitude seems to be improving slowly; I’ve noticed he uses every excuse to stay at school, which is so unusual I don’t know whether to be worried or pleased.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Sometimes I feel utterly useless- like I’m just taking up space in the house. I know that my mom loves me but she never takes time to show me, it seems that she only cares about Cam. Even though I know that’s not true some effort would be appreciated. Every compliment or fond embrace builds onto my fireball of anger and jealousy that has been slowly growing in my stomach my whole life. Sometimes I feel that the pain in unbearable, and I feel like I’m about to burst. I just keep telling myself to push through. I just wish I was good enough for them, and could enjoy being a part of their family. But the constant feeling of inferiority and discomfort always keeps me reserved and alone. If only like could just be simple, and not so damn hard. I feel like everything comes easy to Cam- the grades, the girls, friends.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I HAVE HAD IT. He waltzes around like a prince and gets whatever he wants!! He doesn’t have to work for anything! He has stolen everything of mine. My parents, my friends, my dignity, and now he has the nerve to steal my girl. I want to punch him in his perfectly chiseled face, and make him feel how I feel right now. She wasn’t my girlfriend, but the way we walked down the halls together one would guess we were. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM. Why would he do this to me???
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I’m absolutely unstoppable, I’m furious; I’m a force to be reckoned with. How dare he take everything and want more. This has to end. I’m going mad with vigor and hated. He must pay I have decided. He has thrown the last straw at me and expected me to return it to him on a golden platter. Screw him. I scare myself with terrible terrible ideas of killing and torture…the same ideas that Gabby had so gracefully washed away. Only this time, I’m starting to consider these frightful ideas more and more feasible. I lock myself away with my grief and I console myself with images of his pained eyes.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I’ve decided what I’m going to do. The wheels have been set in motion. As much as this scares me, it’s the only way I’ll ever get my life back. I have to plan this perfectly, or I have even more to loose.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I’m very worried about Garrett. I’m used to seeing him very little but now I hardly see him at all. He comes home from school and quickly slips into his room and locks the door. He gulps down his meal before our plates are even filled and excuses himself. I know better than to ask him what is going on, as that would provoke unnecessary conflicts and emotions. I can only wait for him to settle down again. I wish for a normal family, and I wouldn’t say were too far off- and then again, the distance is my fault.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I sit here in solitude pondering my fate. It’s too late for regrets; I think they say “carpe diem”. Crouching in the darkness, tears well up in my eyes as I hear thumps coming up the stairs. He opens his door, turns on the light and I lunge at him. It all happens in slow motion, he doesn’t understand until he sees the knife I grip tightly in my hand. The same knife my mom used to carve the thanksgiving turkey. If only she’d known. He can see the anger in my eyes and at that moment he realizes my pain. The pity is blazing in his eyes, and he starts crying. We both say nothing, the butcher’s knife quivers in my hand, and time is running out.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> How was school sweetie?
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I take one last sigh and my hand is propelled upwards by horrible memories of my childhood. I stab him in the chest and leave him on the rug to bleed out. I’m gone.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I sit on the park bench, shaking furiously. I can’t believe I let my feelings get the best of me, and I know that things couldn’t get worse. As bad as things may have been, I could have made things better and persevered. I should have told them how I felt, made my feelings known. I took the coward’s approach, and blindly cheated my way out of the situation. The dark blue sky is spinning, and I sit there until sunrise- kept awake by a constant nightmare of reality. I let them find me and take me away.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> They come earlier than I expected, I hadn’t run too far from the house. They don’t need to say anything, I stand and they place rusty handcuffs on my wrist. I think I see my mom behind the police cars. She is absolutely gray. Her eyes are red and exhausted. She screams in agony when she sees me walk by her, and by then I'm almost crawling by her feet to avoid those cold grey eyes tearing through my heart. I feel like a broken puzzle, nothing seems to fit anymore. The only thing stopping me from committing suicide is my mother’s eyes. I can’t cause her anymore pain then I have. I have single-handedly destroyed our family and I will never forgive myself.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> When I saw his cold body on the floor I thought I was hallucinating. As I walked closer I stumbled towards the floor and buried my head in his pale corpse. I saw the knife and I felt as if I was drowning in boiling hot water, every atom in my body screaming for help as I gasped for air. The next hours I don’t even remember. It’s all a blur; all I can see is the red blood pouring from Cam’s chest, the image replaying though my mind. I don’t remember Chris coming to the police station with me, or Garrett being shoved into the shrieking police car. All I see is red.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I am dressed in an orange jumpsuit, and I’m so delirious that I find myself laughing at the cliché. They speak to me in loud, overpowering voices, but I don’t know what they’re saying, I merely nod in agreement. I am rallied into a whitewashed brick cell, and I assume the fetal position on the cold dusty floors, humming my favorite lullaby.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Chris and I sit alone at an empty table and say nothing. He tries to console me, but we have nothing to say to each other. I can't see Garrett- not yet at least. Chris will go to work early and I'll just lie in bed all day, my sadness covering me like a wool blanket, keeping me warm. I tried to love them equally, but I failed and lost them both. The only job I had was to be a good mother to both of them and I couldn't even do that. I feel like everything is my fault, and it hurts so badly. I don't have anything to live for- except for Garrett. I don't know how to deal with him. I want to be able to blame it on him, and make him repent, but I know that in the end it's my fault that he ended up so hurt and scarred. It was the early decisions I made in motherhood that led him to commit this awful task. I need to talk to him but I'm still too hurt. I know I’ll never get over this- and things can never be the same- but I hope that eventually the situation will improve, even if it's just a little bit.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I am grateful for the silence in this cell, it lets me think. I don't regret what I did, but I do regret the way in made my mom feel. I wish I could console her, and make her better, I know that the pain I have caused her is immense, and she’ll probably never get over it. I know she won’t come and visit, so until then I wait till dark so I can let sweet sleep wipe away my sorrows.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I am going to see a therapist, Martha, everyday and she tells me that it’s not my fault; there’s nothing I could have done. I want so bad to believe her but my gut tells me she’s lying. She is kind and her voice is soft. She provides the nurturing reassurance that I crave so badly, and Chris refuses to provide. She says that I’m not ready to see Garrett yet, and I know she’s right. She tells me that I’m making progress and things __will__ get better but slowly. I just want to be better. I wish I could just take a magical band-aid to cover up the holes in my heart. My only job was to be a mother to my boys, so now I have nothing to do. I come back from my therapy appointments and try to distract myself with the superficial problems of celebrities and TV stars. It helps a little bit. When I go to sleep I always have the same nightmare- Garret’s face staring at me with bright red eyes. I tremble and scream in my sleep, and Chris wraps his arms around me tightly and tells me it’s only a dream. I just want to scream at him //ITS NOT A DREAM THIS IS THE FUCKING REALITY//, but I know that it would only worsen the situation. I wonder what Garrett’s doing right now… is he crying? Is he laughing? Is he safe….?
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I have been seeing Martha for a couple months now and today she said I was finally ready to see him. I nod in agreement and she asks if I want her to come but I know this is my battle to fight. I am so scared, and I suddenly feel as if I’m not ready at all. I’m back to last year, when I saw his body covered in red. I need to see him so bad- my little baby boy, but I fear he’s grown too much in my absence. I don’t know what to expect when I see him, I wish I could go back to that night and hold him in my arms- make everything okay. I drive to the prison and sit in the parking lot crying. I look in the mirror and see the toll Cam’s death has taken on me. I have aged 10 years in these past couple months, I can’t even recognize myself. How have I let this happen? What have I done wrong? I find myself wasting minutes away in the seat, and I realize that I have to make a decision. I enter the front office and go up to the front desk. This is the first time I’ve been in a prison, and I hope it’ll be my last. I made sure to come during visitation hours and a bulky man in a navy suit leads me down a dark corridor to a cafeteria-like room, where people sit at small tables, talking and sometimes crying. He leads me to a small table at the end of the room and he tells me to wait there a couple minutes. The metal seats are cold and dirty and reek of sweat. I powder my face and look around, examining the other couples sitting near me. All the prisoners are wearing orange polyester jumpsuits and ID tags on their necks. They all have pain in their eyes- I can tell. Some discuss matters with suited men who appear to be their lawyers. Others talk in low voices with their wives, and longingly caress the soft cheeks of their children, not yet old enough to understand the situations they have been placed in. I hear the screech of a chair and whip my head around to see a young man sitting in front of me. He has a beard, and looks as if he hasn’t showered in days. In those blue eyes I see my little boy and I gasp.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I barely recognize my mom- and this makes me even sadder than the fact that I haven't seen her in what seems like forever. I don't know whether to hug her or shrink away in humiliation. We look at each other and tears start to swell in both our eyes, I shrug my shoulders slightly and she embraces me tightly. //I’m sorry// I sob, //so so sorry//. “I know honey, me too”. We stand in an uncomfortable display of emotion, and I pat her back slowly. This is the first time she has shown me genuine affection since my childhood, and just adds to my sorrow. We pull apart and sit down in the cold metal chairs. We have nothing to talk about. We both know I’ll be serving life sentence here- and any small consolation she could give me would only be strained. I spent the first half of my life in my internal prison, and now my grief has merely materialized into rusty bars. As we sit across from each other I realize that we have never really had any relationship, I pretty much avoided her and she accepted this. Maybe if she had tried harder- none of this would have happened. What’s done is done.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Garrett looks like he has been through the war, and I know he has, an internal war spanning many years. I wish I could tell him that everything will be all right, but things can never go back to the way they we’re. How could I have let this happen? I could have worked harder, loved them more. Instead I was too busy preoccupied with my own problems that I ignored the growing rift between us. Things can’t get any worse, I decide, we’ve hit rock bottom. No there’s nowhere to go but up I guess. I make a personal goal to turn our lives around. Now I can give him the mother he never had, and make him forget the strife I put him through. I gave birth to two sons but raised only one. Visiting hours are over but I promise him that I’ll come back soon. He shrugs his shoulders and I kiss him firmly on the forehead. A guard comes to place his handcuffs back on and lead him away. I smile shyly and wave as he shuffles beside his prison-mates. I slump back in the chair and bury my head in my hands. I take countless deep breaths and try and walk away with all the dignity that I can muster- all the dignity that left me ages ago. When I arrive back home Chris asks me about my visit and I tell him it went fine. He ignores my tear-stained cheeks and nods politely. His lack of interest doesn’t bother me, it never has. We came together out of necessity and now our marriage has been left dull and passionless. I make insignificant chatter with him about his workday and then retire to bed. Tonight my dreams change for the first time in months. I still see Garrett’s face in front of me, but the blood on his hands is gone, and I am sure this is an omen.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I wake up refreshed yet melancholy, and run my usual errands. I fuss around the supermarket, pretending to look for a specific ingredient while secretly savoring the time I get to spend outside of my home. All the memories in the house depress me and I crave freedom. I drive around the town aimlessly and eventually park the car at a desolate parking lot. I get out of the car and walk to the park across the street. I sit in the warm wood bench and bask in the afternoon sun. I smile as young children run by me, onto the playground. I see the young mothers fussing around the group of children, applying sun block and tying shoelaces. I can see myself in them, the hurried nervousness of motherhood portrayed in their every action. I was one of them so long ago, yet I remember it so clearly. I was the envy of the neighborhood, with a wealthy husband and beautiful twin boys. I would feel a twinge of superiority as they bent over to fondle my boys. As they grew older I cared less and less about their personal lives, only the outside. Cam was independent and strong, and flourished, while Garrett was deprived and weaker than his brother. I didn’t have the energy to deal with him. I was never one to cheer for the underdog. Instead, I liked to make the safe bet, and ensure victory. I guess this was also true for my parenting unfortunately.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Life here in the prison is horrible. It’s only been a couple months but already the cold dampness of it has seeped into my skin. I have a single cell, which I guess is a blessing; I’ve seen the movies. Across from me are various other convicts, yet they keep to themselves and seldom speak to me, or each other for that matter. I try to pick up conversation with them, simply as a way to entertain myself but they are very reserved and dull. Most of them have spent a good part of their lives here, and I can see that they have gone slightly senile. I just want to be back home, where I’m cozy and safe. You never appreciate what you have until it’s taken from you. I am going crazy here how the fuck am I supposed to spend my whole fucking life in this shithole. I never understood the consequences until now, and I fully regret what I did. Not because it was necessarily wrong or out of place, but because I will miss out on my whole life. FUCK. FUCK. I’m going to miss out on my whole life. I’ll never have kids…I’ll never get married. By now I am throwing myself at the walls screaming wildly. I have lost everything that was ever important to me. EVERYTHING. I am choking on my spit and eventually just collapse onto my cot. I take a plastic knife I was given with my meal and cut into my arm. I want to die. I can’t live like this. I can’t. The warm blood spurts all over me, and the pain is over whelming. I have been though a lot of pain in my life, but I cannot handle dying here in this dirty cell with strangers. I would rather end my own life than have to endure a life alone here in prison. The blood starts to flow more profusely and I start to become dizzy. One of the guards sees me and yells at me to stop. I cut deeper and scream in agony. He calls security and they strap me to a cot and take me away. I tell them to leave me, just leave me please. LET ME DIE. They take me to the prison hospital and put bandages on my arm. I have lost so much blood that I pass out.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> What is going on? I have lost track of everything…time, my family, my morals, and even myself. I am focused on Garrett, his cry for help seems all too familiar, and I take his advantage to prove myself too him. For all the times that I ignored him and made him feel worthless, I scramble into action. Everything else falls away and I get caught up. I still have unresolved feelings about Cam’s death, but the feeling of guilt I have about Garrett is massive and overpowering. Chris manages to lower the time down to 30 years, but I say it’s no good. I applaud him for trying this hard; he knows it means a lot to me. He can get us a court date he says, and that I can accept. I will fight for my son till the finish.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> The trial is next month and until then I am encouraged to stay quiet and obedient, and endure the next couple weeks in jail as best I can. I am grateful for this chance, but I am afraid that nothing will change. I miss my brother so much. The old men in the cells stare at me with disapproving eyes; all gossiping about I cheated the system and got away with murder. I block them out and focus on my future. My mom loves me now, hopefully we can be a happy family, and the one I never had. For now I try and pass the time as best I can, playing with cards that I have been given. I am comforted by the hope of escape, and this alone has kept me alive. Since my suicide attempt security on my cell has been tightened, and I am no longer allowed to use sharp objects without strict supervision. I feel a change starting to occur within and as much as it frightens me, I embrace it. I am no longer overly self-conscious and upset. From my time here in jail and my budding relationship with my mom I have gained strength and drive. I am no longer content reminiscing on my broken past and mistakes. I decide to take initiative and change things. My mother is regretful and I know she is making an effort too. I have faith that things will change. My outlook has brightened, and as a result of this, so has my future.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Things are changing slowly in the house, but not necessarily for the better. My relationship with Chris has slowly diminished, and has gotten to the point where we hardly ever see each other. He makes excuses to stay at work late and I accept them, happy for the time alone. When were together we don’t have much to discuss and we end up turning on the TV to block each other off. This doesn’t sadden me at the least, yet I wonder if either of us will take decisive action. Chris loved Cam and now that he’s gone he has lost all interest in my family. I expect he’ll have an affair soon enough, with an attractive young intern. I’ll smell her perfume on his jacket as he retires to our bedroom late at night. I’ll ignore, and for a while things will remain like this. I do nothing to prevent this.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> The only reason I am still living with Chris is because I know he can get my son out of jail. I treat him pleasantly and feign love in hope that he’ll keep his end of the bargain. This is what our marriage has become, merely a bargain for Garrett’s freedom. I try and visit him every other day, to check in how he’s doing and chat. He really is a bright kid, and I feel like I’m just meeting him for the first time. I constantly learn things about him that I am ashamed I never knew. I never really gave him a chance I realize. When they were born, Garrett 2 minutes before Cam, I was immediately drawn to Cam’s bright blue eyes and fair skin. Garrett had various skin ailments and breathing problems, so he was taken away pretty soon after the birth. For the two minutes before Cam was born I held Garrett in my arms and cried, as all mothers do. I felt as if he was my only son and all my heart reached out to him. I never thought I could love a child more until Cam was placed in my arms. He held out his little fingers and smiled at me, and I felt an instant connection with him. That’s how I felt for the rest of his life, that he was my real biological son and Garrett had been given to the wrong mother. He didn’t look like me or even his biological father- and this confused me. Cam looked just like my father, the perfect son. But now he’s gone.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> The trial is in 2 days and I am restless. I take laps around the kitchen but this does nothing to ease my anxiety. I let Chris take care of everything so I honestly don’t know how Garrett will be let out. I’m sure there are some illegal bribes and trades occurring, but I know better than to question him. I just hope that everything will go as planned and I’ll be able to take Chris home with me the next day. We have to arrive there early in the morning, where we’ll meet the lawyer to discuss the plan of action. The actual trial doesn’t start till one, and at that point we’ll be able to see Garrett. I have never been to a trial, thankfully, so I have no idea how this one will proceed. I haven’t seen Chris all day- he’s been in his office making calls. At this point, my son is more important than my already doomed marriage, so I have to put my priorities straight. I get a cup of coffee and sit at the counter checking my email. I receive a couple e-mails from some girlfriends, making plans to have dinner at some point. I am startled to receive an email from Dan- my ex-boyfriend, and the father of my boys.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I never met my real father, and was told very little about him. My mom doesn’t like talking about him and I never knew why. All I know is that his name is Dan, he’s still alive, and I have absolutely no business trying to find him. Cam and I accepted this, and never really cared to find out more information. My mom told us that they were in a serious relationship, and he got her pregnant. For some reason he couldn’t take care of us, and left right after she gave birth to us. Whatever he’s a fucking coward. I grew up with Chris as a father figure, even though I really thought of his as one.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Dan was my boyfriend for over 5 years. I loved him so much and I knew that one day we would get married. He was so kind and courageous that I fell in love with him immediately. He was tall and handsome, and when I got pregnant I thought this was the perfect opportunity to get engaged. Instead, he left me. He said it was too much too soon, and he wasn’t ready. I begged him to stay but he left me alone on the kitchen floor, sobbing. I never forgave him and I haven’t seen him since. As you can imagine I was thoroughly shocked by his message, as I hadn’t heard from him in 19 years. He had read the story in the paper (unfortunately Chris had no control over the media) and decided to contact me. He still lives in the nearby town and wanted to come and visit sometime. I was completely shocked. After what I had been through how could this man, now a complete stranger, waltz in a decade after he completely deserted me and expect things to be normal between us. I had forgotten him completely, and never wished to see him again. How could he leave the mother of his two children alone and helpless? I was put back by his sunny disposition and complete naïveté but at the same time part of me wanted to reconnect with him, and feel loved. I wrote back and told him I could have lunch sometime next week.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Tomorrow is the trial and I am bursting with excitement and nervousness. I just want it to be over. My mom came to visit this afternoon and I could tell that she was hiding something. She gave me a suit to wear the next day and told me to shower and shave. Chris told her to make sure I looked nice and clean, as presentation is everything. She squeezed my hand tightly and gave me a small smile. “We’re going to get through this honey, just you wait”. Chris had taken care of everything and I trust him to make the best argument he can. I don’t know how he’ll make the intentional murder of a family member seem trivial, I can only wait and see.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> The trial is over. Garrett’s lawyer is the best in the state and convinced the judge that it was accidental, caused by a mental illness. With some restrictions, he is allowed to return home. He now has to see a therapist, even though it hasn’t helped before. I am he is more open and emotional than he used to be and this alone is a strong sign that things are starting to change. We take him back to the prison so he can collect his belongings, and we can sign the necessary paperwork. I see the same old man there that walked me to his cell for the first time and he nods in recognition. I feel as if a huge burden has been taken off my shoulders, yet I am aware of its remnants that I will have to bear forever.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I am apparently innocent, or at least there is evidence to prove that I am not guilty. This seems strange to me, and makes me question our judicial system. I don’t have a mental disorder so why would they release me. I had no idea what they were saying most of the time so I just sat quiet and pretended to agree with everything my lawyer said. Before the case he pulled me aside and made sure that I wouldn’t speak, only smile and nod. This hurt to some degree but I figured that if I wanted to leave the prison I would have to play by his rules.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I am relieved to be at home, but the awkwardness and tension that I thought would diminish is still there. I feel more alone than ever and things seem to go back to normal. My mom makes more of an effort but I can tell that she is only trying to make up for lost time. She wants Cam back, and tries to use me as a replacement. This is not the life I wanted for myself, and I thought taking dramatic action would ensure change but it’s not the change I wanted and needed so desperately.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I went to have lunch with Dan today at a local café. He looked great, and I knew that I paled in comparison. He acted like everything was normal but he knew that I needed an apology, or at least some sort of explanation. He told about his happy marriage and little girl, Anna, the beautiful life he had created for himself. It killed me to hear this, knowing that my story was on the other side of the spectrum. He asked about the twins and it broke my heart to tell him that they were fine. He smiled and then held my hand. “Karen- you have no idea how hard it was for me to leave you. You don’t understand I had no other choice”. //But you did Chris. You could have helped me, you could have stayed. You made me go through it alone!!// “I wasn’t strong enough, I wasn’t ready for any of it. I knew your parents would give you the help you needed, and I hoped that I had made the right decision.” I couldn’t take this anymore. I wasn’t ready to tear open the stitches and feel the pain again. I got up and walked away, just like he had.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I’m not allowed to go back to school, and for this I am thankful. I have to see a therapist again, almost everyday. She makes me talk about my problems and I hate her. I don’t want to tell her my feelings- she’s a complete stranger. I mostly just sit on her couch and bite my nails while she lectures me about letting go of my anger and growing as a person. I ignore her and sometimes sarcastically smile at that bitch. My mom is happy that I’m going and she seems to think I’m making progress. Where she got this idea from I have no idea. Chris bought be the latest x-box game as a welcome home gift and that is a good distraction for me. I have an excuse to isolate myself and keep myself busy with the endless games that come with it. My mom’s mad that he got it for me, because she says that it’ll only ruin everything she’s worked towards. I can hear them fighting about me at night and I don’t care. I pretend that it’s not my fault that their marriage is over. I turn up the TV and escape. I have built up quite a fine collection of games and electronics throughout my life, so I’m never bored. And even if I chose not to do anything and just stare at the walls, I know that I’m more content that I’ll ever be in the outside world. My room is safe and quiet, my personal oasis where I feel truly at peace.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I am so afraid that things won’t change, and all that anguish will be for nothing. Garrett seems content to return to the monotonous routine of his life, as if nothing had happened. I want to help him, but he is continually resistant. Dan keeps leaving messages and emailing me- asking me to forgive him for everything. As I delete them tears form in my eyes. We could have had the perfect family together, the one he decided to make without me. Our lives weren’t perfect and he couldn’t accept that. The news of Garret’s ‘disability’ had been too much for him to handle and I don’t blame him for freaking out, it’s hard to know that you’ll always have to live with the guilt. He knew I was strong enough for the both of us but I still needed him. He always knew how to make me laugh and give me the loving reassurance that had made our relationship thrive. After 20 years you can’t get that back. ‘Sorry’ won’t heal a broken heart.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I know something is going on with my mom, but I honestly don’t care enough to ask. The close bond we shared while I was imprisoned vanished immediately. I guess the anger has subsided towards my mom, but the tension is still left unsettled. I hear her pacing in her room at night, sometimes sobbing uncontrollably. I feel horrible because I know that it’s probably something that I’ve done. I reached a new high level on Call Of Duty, which I am very proud about. That is where I meet my friends, online. We don’t have to talk about our feelings or share any close relationship- we just kill people together, like real men. I like to think they’re the real friends. The ones that like you for what you can do, and don’t need to know everything about you to be your friend. We don’t need to talk or tell each other about the problems in our lives- we just join together to fight a common enemy, even if it is fake.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Chris and I are seriously discussing a divorce. We are friends, and that is all. We have a perfectly pleasant, passionless relationship and we have decided that both of us should move on. I’m not sad or relieved; we just know that it’s the right thing to do. I don’t know how Garrett will take it. He never really liked Chris but I am always so afraid to make things unstable for him. Until we reach a final decision we have decided to keep this information to ourselves. Until then Chris sleeps in the guest bedroom and we maintain civil relations. I know we won’t have any problems fighting over property, he is a gentleman and will let Garrett and I keep the house. He will move off to start his own life without us. I have a strange déjà vu with the night Dan left me. I know the situation is much different but I have the same feelings of being left alone and helpless to raise Garrett. Of course Chris’ reasons for leaving have nothing to do with Garrett, they are purely derived from our lack of any emotional relationship. We were never meant for each other, and it’s slowly starting to catch up to us.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> My mom thinks I don’t know she’s getting a divorce. I swear to god she thinks I’m absolutely clueless. Not to mention the fact that she treats me like a 4 year-old, afraid I’m gonna crack at any moment. What am I going to do alone with my mom? At least Chris gave her some sort of distraction from attacking me every moment. As if our lives weren’t awkward enough with Chris around, now it’s just us too. It sounds terrible but I feel as if I’m slowly killing off my family, one by one. It hasn’t gotten to the point yet where I can joke about it but fuck, when have I cared about other people’s feelings?
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> The divorce is final. We met with our lawyers this morning and amicably parted ways. I told Garrett but he just shrugged it off- completely unattached. Chris is staying at a hotel until he can buy a small place of his own. We’ll remain friends, as he’s always been so kind and generous to me. It all seemed to happen so quickly, not just the divorce, but the past 4 or 5 months. It seemed just last week that we were all a happy family, but no obvious problems or flaws. Oh how our outsides can betray our true emotions. We would never show anyone what was truly going on with Garrett and the family; just give others the impression that things were perfect. Now that Chris is gone I feel completely alone. I never see Garrett and I as I told you before, I don’t have any really close friends. All this free time and boredom leads me back onto the computer, were I slowly reignite conversation with Dan. Our conversations move away from the past and towards the present, exchanging seemingly meaningless bits of information. I have known him for the first half of my life, and I feel myself reopening an old bond with a close friend. I told him about Chris and the divorce- but still nothing about Cam. I continue to mention him as if he was in the room beside me- doing homework on the kitchen table. It’s reassuring to create an imaginary world for myself, and show it to Dan. I tell him about how well the boys have been getting along, and the various endeavors that Cam has taken on. It should sadden me to picture what our lives could have been like, but instead it gives me the momentary happiness that propels me through the rest of the day. He seems to buy my stories, and shyly hints at a possible meeting with them. I carefully lead him away from the idea, protesting that it would be too much for the boys too handle, and it would be better off if they never met. I know it disappoints him, but I can’t bear to tell him what has happened. I don’t know how it would affect him, as he has never met them before in his life, but I fear that the emotional bond between him and the concept of his children is far too great. Sometimes we make plans to go out to lunch. I enjoy spending time with him, he’s a good listener and I love his sunny disposition. He tells me about Anna’s first words and steps, and I bask in his happiness. It’s always nice to hear about a story with a happy ending- something that worked out right for a change.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I think my mom’s seeing someone. I always hear her on the phone at late hours, and she seems to be spending less and less time at the house. I notice a change in her mood and personality, and the only reason I can think of is a new boyfriend. I’m not jealous per say, I just think that this is not the time for her to be preoccupied with her personal life. We are not at a good stable point for her to introduce a new character into our storyline. I decide to take action, as always. I pick up the phone in our upstairs den when I know she’s talking downstairs in the kitchen. I cover the mouthpiece and listen. I hear my mom’s voice and sure enough, a man’s. I’m not surprised- I have always been quite intuitive. They are just chatting about the weather and random stuff. I notice he mentions in his and kids and I gasp, I never thought my mom would ever have an affair!! I am quite taken aback by this recent discovery. My mom and Chris divorced barely a week ago and she’s already moved on…to a //married// man. I am shocked but not enough to stop spying on their conversation. They seem to have had a long relationship, as their conversations are deep and intimate. I feel somewhat uncomfortable encroaching on my mom’s personal life, but I decide that it’s my right if it’s gonna affect me. He asks how Cam did in his soccer tournament last week and for a moment I though I was hearing things. My mom replies nonchalantly, “good. His team didn’t win but they played really well. He got a couple goals in the net as always.” The man laughed, “that’s my boy”. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Did I or did I not kill my brother? Why would my mom lie to this man? I decide I have heard enough and put the phone down gently and curl up into my bed to process what I’ve just heard. They were definitely talking about Cam that’s for sure, as if he was still alive. By the amount of time my mom spends out and on the phone I know they have a close relationship. Probably close enough to at least tell him an edited version of the story. I fall asleep that night still quite puzzled, which I guess is a nice change of emotion. Haha.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> My relationship with Dan has started to move from a casual companionship to a more flirtatious one. I should have known that reuniting with an old flame would have this effect on me. We talk quite often, a little too much for my own good. We try and hangout every day and each time we get closer and closer. I know he feels the same way but I won’t make a move. He abandoned the twins and I and I’ll never be able to forgive him. I work with my therapist every week to try and understand what is going on in Garrett’s mind. I am nervous to tell her about Dan- I feel like it’s a whole other can of worms that I am not ready to open. She keeps telling me that eventually he’ll come back, and he’s just not ready to open up to me yet. Martha says that he’s probably still in shock from the whole experience, and I need to give him some time to wear off before we start making progress. I want to go back to the connection we shared while he was in jail. Although the situation was hopeless, we shared brief moments of happiness for the first time since his birth. Testosterone has not made this journey any easier for us. As moody and solitary as he seems to act, I realize that it can always get worse. There is an invisible wall between us that only true sadness and despair can break. He is in a different world, yet none of this is new. I’ve gotten used to just giving him his space, but now that I have nobody left I want him as close as possible. Sometimes I think his heart is made of ice, he always is unaffected and detached from any seemingly emotional situation.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Dan is continually insistent on meeting the boys, and I fear I cannot hide the truth any longer. Biologically he is there father, and he was my soul mate (well, up until their birth). I owe him nothing, as I tell myself everyday, but I cannot live the lie, it hurts too badly. As we meet up for dinner I think about how he’ll react to the news. I imagine him sobbing wildly, screaming at me for not telling him sooner, or just looking at me blankly, feeling nothing. As I see him at the table I start rehearsing the lines I’ve said over and over this morning. We embrace and he pulls out a chair for me to sit at.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">“ **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Why didn’t you tell me earlier?**”** He questions.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I have decided to figure out my mom’s lover. She has no right to hold secrets from me, after everything she has put me through. After she leaves for the day I decide to check her email. After years of technology-dependence I have a knack for hacking computers. I sneak into her office and log into her account. As I sift through her inbox I discover that the majority, if not all, of the emails are from a man named Dan. I click on the most recent one and read…”Dan I don’t know what to do anymore, I am at my wits end with this situation. I need your help. Can we meet?“ I click on a random one, “I don’t know what to feel. I am angry with you for leaving me, but also I am contented with our growing friendship. I am starting to come to terms with this…I think.” It seems to me that they had a previous relationship. I mean they have only been seeing each other recently for a couple weeks max. My anticipation is growing as I start to unravel the past. I pour through hundreds of emails and slowly start to piece together the truth. I am shocked to discover the identity of my father. Now I have something to put to his name…Dan. I was never too intrigued to find him but now that I know, I can’t stop. It all comes too quickly and I slowly begin to regret my curiosity. It’s like opening Pandora’s Box- all his bad aspects are revealed as well. I learn why I grew up without a real dad, because he left my mom. They never discuss why it is that he left but the mere fact that he had the balls fills me with fury. He is such a stranger to me that I feel no shame in hating him. I am not sorry for Cam or myself, just my mother. I know the pain he caused her must have been unbearable and I can’t imagine why she would reconnect with him after that. I know I have to do something, and make him pay for what he did, but I also don’t want to make a rash decision without fully investigating the situation. I don’t want to make the same mistake that I did with Cam, rushing to a conclusion and ending up regretting it for the rest of my life. I need to figure out why it is that the left in the first place- that’ll give me a starting point, and then I will be able to justify whatever actions I decide to take. I am sure that the information I seek cannot be found in those emails, so I decide to take another approach. I will confront my mother, and see what she says.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I want to love him again. He tells me that he still loves me and I want to believe him. He wants to make everything better between the two of us, and will give up everything to do this. I’ve heard this story before and I can’t rationalize why he would leave his happy family for me- a moody old lady. We have been having such a good time together but I fear rushing back into this relationship could have devastating consequences. How will Garrett react? What if he leaves again? Can I ever trust him again? My mind knows better, but my heart is begging me to take him back. “Think about it”, he says, “I’ll always be here waiting.” I am wary of false promises, and I know the problems he has embracing commitment. I walk home- confused and exhausted, only to realize the gravity of the situation. Garrett is sitting on the couch, staring at me with the same confused, lost eyes that I see in the mirror. I know he wants answers that I am not prepared to give him.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I don’t understand why it is that she can’t tell me anything. Whatever she’s holding back could completely change my life. I feel like everything I’ve done has been based on a lie, and I’m so scared. My mom is not the kind of person who’ll changer her opinion. She is emotional, I’ll give you that, but she’s always been strict in her ideology. As hard as I can try I won’t be able to convince her otherwise, so I can only hope that eventually the truth will come out. Until then I can push myself to be the perfect son and prove myself.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I told Dan about my conversation with Garrett. “We knew this would happen, we should have told him earlier” he tells me. “Karen I don’t want to make the same mistake I did earlier by rejecting this condition of his. He should have the right to know.”
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> From the emails I knew my dad’s email address. I decided to send him an email and see if I could unravel this senseless ‘mystery’. I logged onto my mom’s computer once more- I promised her I would never touch it again, and she believed me- and copied down his email. I then snuck away up to my room and sat down at my computer to write. I began…
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Right when I wake up I jump back onto the computer. It takes a while to start up and I am growing increasingly anxious. I quickly log onto my email but to my disappointment Dan hasn’t responded yet. It’s okay, I tell myself, I sent it late…he will probably check his email later today. He will surely write back, how could he not?? I preoccupy myself by walking around the neighborhood. My mom left early to go god-knows-where. She doesn’t have a job, so why is it that she’s never home. It’s like she can’t bear the sight of me. I’m sure there are other things going on but if she never tells me anything how am I supposed to understand. I walk to the park and sit on the swing. Little girls make sand pies in the sandbox, and boys play tag around the jungle gym. I let myself get carried away in their innocent display of youth. They live carefree lives, moving effortlessly from one source of entertainment to the next. Their only worry is if they’ll be forced to leave the park early, or be served broccoli for dinner. I don’t really remember being that young. My mom used to take Cam and I here sometimes on weekends and Cam would run around happily while I would sulk on the slide alone. Same old story.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I run my daily errands and then go get a massage with Betsy, one of my girlfriends. I have been so stressed recently that I can practically feel the knots forming in my shoulders. We make small talk as the masseurs rub oil into our backs. It’s awkward but I’m always looking for an excuse to get out of the house, even if it does mean getting overpriced massages with a woman I barely even see anymore. When I come back home, Garrett is gone, but I don’t bother calling him to see where he is. I’m sure he can take care of himself.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> When I finally come home my mom has begun cooking dinner. I sit on the kitchen tools, //wow mom it looks good!//
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Garrett’s a good kid. He’s had some traumatic experiences but I give that kid a lot of credit for not going absolutely insane. I have forgiven him for what he did to Cam, resting the blame for that completely on my shoulders. He makes an effort, I’ve decided, he really does. I just want him to feel comfortable and at home. I know he would never come to me with a personal problem but I hope that eventually we can mend our relationship. He’s strong and smart; I know he can push through. I want to be able to tell him so badly, because I know that would help him. He’s the kind of kid who’s his own worst critic. He beats himself up over everything and always takes the blame. I feel like it would help him to know that it’s not his fault. Everybody says to wait, and I know I should. I just want to start an open relationship with everyone. No secrets, no problems, I just want to put everything in the open. I think that’s the best way for everyone to heal. I really should talk it over with Dan first though. I haven’t talked to him in a while I wonder what he’s been up to.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I am totally unsure of how to respond to Dan’s email. I know for my own sanity I need to reach out to him somehow and get to the bottom of this. What’s the worst that can happen if I decide to meet him? I highly doubt we’ll start crying and jump into each other’s arms like the reunions in movies. Chances are I’ll meet a normal-looking guy who happened to knock up my mom, and we’ll have nothing in common. It’s exciting that I have something to get worried and nervous about. I’ve been so bored and lonely all the time it’s a nice change. I wonder what would happen if Dan and my mom got remarried…I imagine a perfect household, the star-struck lovers reunited again after years of anguish and heartbreak. It’s all crap really. None of this shit ever happens in the real world, and I am certainly not one to believe it. Cam was always the dreamer and the poet. I was the cynical and sarcastic one, crouching in his shadow. I like watching movies and shit because it’s a good distraction from the real world but I know better to believe those corny morals the directors like to throw out. I think of myself as a realist. We’re all going to die eventually and until then we are just passing time. Not too much matters when you think about that. Chances are that most of us have a couple decades left- at most. I see no reason to be optimistic about the future because there is no future.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Sometimes I like to write my thoughts in journals. My mom used to buy me some when I was little and it’s interesting to write your ideas down on paper. If I ever come up with something I find to be fascinating, or just an event I want to remember, it always helps to write it down. I always wanted to be a writer, although I was never any good in English. I like the idea of just putting your thoughts on paper for somebody else to marvel at. I also enjoy reading novels. It passes the time, you know? I like to flip through some of my previous entries, to try and decipher what occurred in my youth. Most of them are scribbled phrases or poems, small distant fragments of a broken childhood.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Dan told me about the email that Garrett wrote him, and my heart breaks just hearing about it. He is searching so desperately for something to grasp onto, he’s so close to drowning in his own thoughts and worries. I want to tell him, I have to just bite the bullet. It can only improve things right?? He has to know- it’s his right. I tell Dan what I’ve decided and he nods in agreement. “It’s the right thing to do Karen. But I think you should do it alone. I don’t want to complicate matters any further; he’s your son. Just know that you have my support whatever happens. I’ll always be here for you even if you aren’t ready to accept it.” I smile and give him a long hug. //I think I’m going to go now, but I promise I’ll let you know how it goes.// With that I walk off, confidently marching off to meet my fate.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> When my mom walks through the door, I can tell by the look on her face that something is up.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I stomp away and slam my bedroom door. Hurt and utterly confused I crash onto my bed. All this information has come far too fast. I can't grasp my head around the concept. My whole life I thought it was just the way I was, that I was just incapable of living a normal life like my brother. If only I had known then what I know now I would have had the confidence to push myself and try to succeed. I don't even know what SPD is so I Google it.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Overview **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Symptoms **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> As soon as he runs away I see the mess I have made of my life. Everything that has happened has been my fault. I should have been firm and begged him to stay. I should have told Garrett earlier, and sought therapeutic treatment for him. I should have made up for his lack of social skills with love. We could have had a perfect family. We could have been happy. It is all my fucking fault. I was young and stubborn and I thought I could do everything on my own, without help. God I was so stupid! Now I’ve lost Garrett completely, I can tell. I doubt he’ll ever be able to trust me again. I have felt like this so many times before, but never has it had such severe implications. I need to make things better. I immediately call Dan and tell him I am coming over. When he opens the door for me I fall into his arms, sobbing.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I go up to his room where I find him sleeping on his bed. I smile at his sleeping silhouette and gently close the door, prepared to confront him once he awakens. When I hear sounds coming from upstairs I go up again. He is on the computer and as I look over his shoulder I see that he has been scouring web articles for information about SPD. Poor baby, how could I have thrown all this information upon him and not even explained it in full.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> I met with the doctor yesterday. His name is Dr. Martin, and he had a long talk with me about what happens to patients who have SPD- medically speaking. He recommended a psychiatrist who I would have to meet with while taking the medication. He told me that it is important to see someone while your taking the meds, to make sure everything is going as it should, and to ‘follow up’ on your progress. I feel a positive change just by taking the first couple steps. It feels good to be finally taking control of my life, and not letting my inhibitions dominate me. I feel happy for the first time in a very long time.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Garrett **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> My mom has asked me whether I want to meet Dan, and I am utterly undecided. I am afraid to set myself up to fail again. I don’t know what I would do if he were to betray our family again. My mom and I are finally so close and I’m afraid that letting somebody into our family could ruin that. I told her that I need time to think about it, and she understands.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Dan is very insistent that he meets Garrett. He has already divorced his wife and tells me that he is 100% ready to commit to me this time around. I cannot believe that he would leave his family in an instant, and I can only imagine little Anna growing up without a father. He is putting his wife in the same situation that he put me, which leads me to believe that he hasn’t changed. I feel so bad for them; I know how it feels to be left alone to raise a family. I tell him all of this and he just shrugs it off.
 * <span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Karen **<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">When I arrive home I see Garrett waiting for me on the front steps and I am filled with happiness. Things are perfect now.