The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

“It doesn’t make you coldblooded, Van,” The Wall of Winnipeg interjected with a crisp tone. “Someone you should have been able to trust hurt you. No one can blame you for not wanting to give her a hug after that. I haven’t been able to forgive people for less.”

That made me snort bitterly. “You’d be surprised, Aiden. It’s still a sore subject. No one besides my little brother understands why I’m mad. Why I don’t just get over it. I get that they’ve never liked me for whatever reason, but it still feels like a betrayal that they’d be behind Susie instead of me. I don’t understand why. Or what I did to make them feel like I’m their enemy. What am I supposed to do?”

Aiden frowned. “You’re a good person and you’re talented, Vanessa. Look at you. I don’t know what your sisters are like, but I can’t believe they’re half of what you are.”

He listed the attributes so breezily they didn’t feel like compliments. They felt like statements, and I didn’t know what to do with it, especially because in the back of my head, I knew Aiden wouldn’t say those things to make me feel better. He just wasn’t the type to nurture, even if he felt obligated, unless he genuinely, really wanted to.

But before I could think about it anymore, he admitted something so out of the blue, I wasn’t remotely prepared for it. “I might not be the best person to give you family advice. I haven’t talked to my parents in twelve years.”

I jumped on that wagon the second I could, preferring to talk about him than me. “I thought you went to go live with your grandparents when you were fifteen?”

“I did, but my grandfather died when I was a senior in high school. They came to the funeral, found out he had left everything to my grandmother, and my mom told me to take care of myself. I’ve never seen them since then,” Aiden recounted.

“Your dad didn’t say anything?”

Aiden shifted in bed, almost as if he was lowering himself to be flatter on the mattress. “No. I was four inches taller than him by then, sixty pounds heavier. The only time he talked to me when I lived with them was when he wanted to yell at someone.”

“I’m sorry to talk about your dad, but he sounds like an asshole.”

“He was an asshole. I’m sure he still is.”

I wondered… “Is he why you don’t cuss?”

No-bullshit Aiden answered. “Yes.”

It was in that moment, that I realized how similar Aiden and I were. This intense sense of affection, okay maybe it was more than affection—I could be an adult and admit it—squeezed my heart.

Looking at Aiden, I held back the sympathy I felt and just kept a grip on the simmering anger as I eyed his scar. “How did he do that to you?”

“I was fourteen, right before I hit my big growth spurt.” He cleared his throat, his face aimed at the ceiling, confirming he knew that I knew. “He’d been drinking too much and he was mad at me for eating the last lamb chop… he shoved me into the fireplace.”

I was going to kill his dad. “Did you go to the hospital?”

Aiden’s scoff caught me totally off guard. “No. We didn’t—he wouldn’t have let me go. That’s why it healed so badly.”

Yeah, I slid lower into the bed, unable to look at him. Was this what he was feeling? Shame and anger?

What were you supposed to say after something like that? Was there anything? I lay there, choking on uncertain words for what felt like forever, telling myself I had no reason to cry when he wasn’t. “Is your dad as big are you are?”

“Not anymore.” He let out a rough sounding snicker. “No. He’s maybe a hundred and sixty pounds, five foot ten if that. At least, that’s how he was last time I saw him.”

“Huh.”

He shifted around on the bed for a second before abruptly saying, “I’m pretty sure he wasn’t my real dad. My mom’s a blonde, so is he. They’re both average. My grandparents were blonds. My mom used to work with this guy who was always really nice to me when I went to her job. My parents fought a lot, but I thought it was normal since my dad was always trying to fight somebody. It didn’t matter who.” The similarity to Diana’s boyfriend didn’t escape me. “My grandmother was the one who admitted to me that my mom used to cheat on my dad.”

I wondered if they were still together or not. “That sounds like a miserable experience for both of them.”

He nodded, his breathing slow and even as his gaze stuck itself on the television. “Yeah, but now I see that they were both so unhappy with each other that they could never be happy with me, no matter what I did, and it makes it a lot easier to go on with my life. The best thing they ever did was relinquish their rights and take me to my grandparents. I didn’t do anything to them, and I’m better off with the way things turned out than I would have been otherwise. Everything I have, I have because of my grandma and grandpa.” He turned his head and made sure to make eye contact with me. “I wasn’t about to waste my life away, upset, because I was raised by people who couldn’t commit to anything in their lives. All they did was show me the kind of person I didn’t want to be.”

Why did it feel like he was talking about my mom?

We both lay there for a while, neither one of us saying a word. I was thinking about my mom and all of the mistakes I’d taken upon myself in all these years. “Sometimes, I wonder why the hell I bother still trying to have a relationship with my mom. If I didn’t call her, she’d call me twice a year unless there was something she needed or wanted, or she was feeling bad about something she remembered doing—or not doing. I know it’s shitty to think that, but I do.”