Frustrated, Lisa threw a toy stuffed animal across the room. It hit the wall harmlessly and dropped to the floor. It didn't even make much of a noise.
"I sound like an idiot," Lisa said in a low growl.
She went over to where the stuffed animal had landed and picked it up. It had been a present from her dad when she was ill with a bad case of the flu years ago. It was one of her favorite keepsakes of her past.
Patting the toy, she said, "I'm sorry Mr. Fluffy. I shouldn't throw you around like that."
She put the stuffed animal back on top of her dresser before returning to the video camera. She rewound the tape. It didn't take long to rewind to the beginning of tape since she had recorded less than two minutes. She pushed the button to start recording.
"I came home and you weren't there," Lisa said trying to put some emotion into her voice.
She turned off the video camera and hit the rewind button. Feeling like an idiot, she said, "God! I sound like a whiny baby."
She pushed the record button and stared at the camera. Fifteen torturous seconds passed without her speaking. In a flat emotionless voice, she said, "I don't know how to tell you what you did to me without sounding stupid. I've tried a dozen times to record how I felt about that day when you went to work. I sound like an idiot."
In an exaggerated child's voice, she said, "You weren't there and I cried and cried."
"I sound like a stupid crybaby. The problem is that you weren't there," Lisa said returning to the flat emotionless voice with which she had started.
"You were supposed to be there. You had always been there before. Suddenly you were gone. I didn't know what to make of it.
"When dad said that you had a job, I didn't know what to think. Mommies were supposed to stay at home and daddies were supposed to work. It seemed like everything was upside down and backwards.
"I know Dad tried to hold things together. There were times when he was busy with work and we were acting like spoiled little kids. Yes, there were times when we threw tantrums. He would come out of his office to be with us. He was patient with us, but I knew that he needed to be working on his programs. He'd listen to us, but glance back at his office anxiously. No matter what, he put us first.
"I kept thinking that he was there for us when he'd rather be doing something else. He cared. Where were you? You weren't there. I felt that meant you didn't care. I've always known that you like David and Rose more than me. If you didn't care enough to be there for them, I had to wonder how you felt about me. I wanted to ask you, but you weren't there."
Lisa fell silent for a minute. Looking away from the camera, she said, "Even when you were home, you weren't there. It always about your job, your trip, and your problems. I would start to tell you something and you would dismiss me. Once, you even told me to schedule an appointment. I couldn't figure out if you were joking or not.
"I remember a time when I was about nine years old. I was supposed to sell scout cookies door to door. Dad didn't want me to go alone, particularly on streets that were a couple of blocks from home. I knew he was struggling with work and I didn't want to disturb him. He tried to hide his problems from us, but we could hear him muttering to himself in his office about deadlines and stuff.
"I waited until Saturday when I knew you would be at home to ask you to take me out to sell cookies. You told me that we could go after you got back from shopping. I guess you forgot about it. It was late when you got home, you started dinner, and then it was too dark to go. Dad took me Sunday after you had flown off on your business trip."
Lisa was quiet for a moment thinking back to those days. It really hurt to talk about them. It was a confusing time. She hadn't given up hope that her mother would act like a mother. Each episode in which she was disappointed by her mother's behavior was taken very personally.
She said, "I know those aren't big things to complain about. You were busy. I was just a kid with kid problems. I know my problems weren't really all that important compared to adult problems, but they were mine and they were important to me. I was left with no one to help me with them.
"That's not true. Dad was there. Of course, he can't handle emotions. Rose or I would burst out in tears about something or another and he'd stand there like a goofus not knowing what to do. He's always searching for the right thing to say and that comes hard for him. I think those are the times when he missed you the most.
"There were nights when I'd wake because of a nightmare or something. I'd go out of my room to get a glass of water. Dad would be sitting on the back patio staring up at the night sky. He was lonely. You could hear him sigh inside the house even though the windows and doors were closed. It made me want to cry.
"Dad is a man and there are just some things he doesn't understand. I'm talking about female kinds of things. Your absence at that time of my life was ... I don't know how to describe it. I wanted your guidance. You weren't there."
Lisa paused. He stared at the camera with blank dead eyes for several long seconds. She lowered her head so that she was looking at the floor.
"In case you're interested, I started my first period in school. I was mortified. The back of my skirt was bloody and I had to go to the school office to call Dad to come pick me up. I had to wait there with people coming and going. Every one knew I was having my period. They finally sent me to the nurse's office and she explained the female facts of life to me. I didn't like her then and I still don't like her. We called her, 'Prune Face, ' because she always looked like she was sucking lemons. I wanted to die.
"I bought my first bra at one of the large chain stores ... Wally Mart. There was some woman there who helped me pick one out. She had to explain to me about cup sizes and fitting a bra. She was a complete stranger and I'm not even sure she worked there. I don't know if you can picture the situation. There I was in the middle of the store with this strange women measuring me around my breasts. Other shoppers were walking past and looking at me like I was trailer park trash or something.
"I know they were thinking that I had to be a loser to not have a mother to explain that kind of stuff to me. There is something wrong about learning about bras in the middle of a Wally Mart.
"I had to stand in line to pay for it. Maybe you're used to buying bras, but I'm not. I was mortified that everyone could see what I was buying. The stupid cow at the register even held it up for everyone to see. I was dying there.
"Dad picked me up from the store. He kept asking what all I had bought. There was no way I was going to tell him. I probably should have talked to him about it before I went there. He'd have probably saved me a ton of embarrassment.
"I did get smarter about it though. I got my second bra at a lingerie shop. There is this old woman who works there, Mrs. Clay. She reminds me of a grandmother; the kind of friendly grandmother you'd see in a commercial. Mrs. Clay took me off to a corner of the store and explained about the different kind of bras and underwear. I spent nearly three hours there. She was so gentle and reassuring about it that I wasn't even the least bit embarrassed. She's really a nice lady. I even bought her a Christmas present last year.
"Thinking about her kind of saddens me. I mean, she's nice, but she's a stranger who I just happened to meet and she's taught me some of the most intimate things a girl can learn about being a woman. Where were you? I don't know. All I know is that you weren't here."
Lisa stopped talking. It was as if she had forgotten that the camera was on. She sighed. It wasn't a sigh of loneliness, boredom, or sadness. It was more brutal than that. It had a kind of finality to it -- like a soul leaving the body.
In an empty, almost dead, tone of voice, Lisa said, "I don't know how to tell you just how much I've been hurt without sounding like I'm complaining. There are just some times in your life when you need someone to be there for you. I've had a lot of moments like that and you weren't there. I don't how else to say it. You weren't there."
There was a long pause.
"You just weren't there."
She sat down on the bed and cried. It wasn't the loud kind of crying with sobs or boohoos. It was silent tears hidden behind hands that covered her face. It was as though she didn't want her misery to be noticed. The camera caught the private moment of a disheartened young woman shrinking into herself – alone, adrift, and lost.
The camera ran unattended until it reached the end of the tape. Unnoticed, it shut off with a click.
John's rage had been terrifying in its power and duration. David's anger had been passionate, but conveyed a simpler pain. Rose's violence had been physically painful. Vicki had taken the brunt of their wrath directly. It had hurt emotionally and physically, but she had taken it.
Lisa's tape grabbed her soul and shattered it into a thousand little pieces. For more than an hour, Vicki was left staring blankly at the blue screen presented by the VCR after the tape had ended. She couldn't move. She couldn't force her eyes to look away.
For a day, Vicki went through the motions of living. She ate, she slept, and she moved around the house. Watching her was like watching a marionette, the body was there but there wasn't a soul inside. Whenever there was even the least hint of animation to her movements, she would stop and watch the tape again.
It was late in the afternoon when John stopped by the house to straighten up the office. He wanted to do an inventory of what equipment remained after the sale. Most of the equipment were game consoles and older platforms for legacy support rather than the current generation of development machines. He planned to wipe the programs from the machines and donate them to charities.
He entered the house to find Vicki, seated on a chair from the kitchen table, staring at the television playing Lisa's tape. He stood behind her and watched it. Despite the fact that he was portrayed in a positive light, the video invoked a degree of guilt that made him ill. When it was over, he said, "Jesus."
Worried, he looked over at Vicki. She was staring blankly at the screen. Her intention in having Lisa create the video had been to relieve some of the anger before a more intense face to face meeting. It was the same reason that one put a pressure cooker under running cold water before attempting to open it. That isn't what happened.
What Lisa had produced didn't contain anger. It presented a bewildered young girl wanting to understand a significant absence in her life. She wasn't accusing her mother of a crime for not being there, only stating that she hadn't been there.
"Vicki!" John called out to get her attention.
Vicki continued to stare at the screen without any sign of reaction. He called to her again with the same result. He touched her arm. She didn't react. He shook her with no reaction on her part.
Worried, John debated calling 911. It was clear to him that she needed help and he was clueless about how to deal with it. He went to the phone to make the call. He spotted the number for the church by the phone. He picked up the phone and made the call.
After he returned to the room, Vicki stood up and walked over to the VCR. Her movements were reminiscent of a zombie. She hit the play button and returned to her seat. John couldn't believe that she would watch the video again.
The video ended before Reverend Billings arrived. John explained to the reverend what Vicki was doing. Worried, the man listened carefully and asked questions about the content of the video. While they were talking, Vicki restarted the video.
John watched the video a second time while Reverend Billings watched Vicki. Her pain was obvious. He knew it was time to end the suffering.
Putting a hand on John's shoulder, Reverend Billings said, "I need you to go home. I'll call you."
"I should stay here," John said.
"I need you to go home," Reverend Billings said a little more firmly.
"Maybe I should call an ambulance. I think she may need a psychiatrist," John said unwilling to leave her.
Reverend Billings said, "You can trust in God or in Freud. If you want my take on the matter, I would go with God. I believe that God will use Freud if that will help her. I'm pretty sure that Freud won't call upon God even if it is the only chance to help her."
"Okay," John said praying that he wasn't making a mistake.
Reverend Billings waited until John left before he went to the kitchen to grab a chair. He brought it back to the living room and placed it across the room from her. He took a seat and watched her.
"Hell is a horrible place, isn't it?"
Vicki turned to look at him.
"I have been where you are now," he said in a soft voice.
Her eyes widened.
"I, in a single act, condemned a young man to a lifetime of pain. I felt his pain over and over and over. I thought it would never end. I spent five years, eight months, and twenty two days where you are now. There wasn't a day during that time when I didn't feel the pain I had created."
"How did it end?" Vicki asked.
"I prayed to God and opened my heart to him. He pulled me from the depths of Hell. I have served him since," Reverend Billings said.
"You were right about Hell. Demons with pitchforks could not inflict this kind of torture," Vicki said.
"Do you trust me?"
"Yes," Vicki answered.
"Good. We will wait for a while and then I will make a call. Then we will wait some more and then you will watch the video one more time," Reverend Billings said.
Vicki flinched. "Why?"
Reverend Billings answered, "You have an act of contrition to perform."
"I don't understand," Vicki said.
"You will."
The pair sat without talking. Vicki stared at the floor. Reverend Billings watched her. After twenty minutes had passed, he said, "I will make the call now."
Vicki did not respond.
Reverend Billings left the room. After a quiet conversation over the phone he returned to the living room. He turned the chair to watch out the front window. He took a seat and looked out the window.
Vicki continued to stare at the floor. Although she didn't move, she showed signs of increasing tension. It was like her body was slowly turning to stone.
After twenty minutes, he said, "It is almost time to watch the video again."
When Vicki did not answer, he rose and walked over to the VRC. He paused there for a minute as if waiting for a sign. He hit the play button. Vicki lifted her gaze from the floor to focus on the television.
Reverend Billings went to the front door and opened it. Lisa stepped into the house ready for a fight. Her father had brought her there. All he had said was that she was to have a final confrontation with her mother. She had enough anger within her to power a large city. The presence of Reverend Billings took her by surprise and threw her off her stride. After glaring at him, she stepped into the living room.
She froze mid-step upon seeing the video tape she had made playing on the television. She had never wanted to see it. After making it, she had mailed it to her mother desiring to get it as far from her as possible. Now, confronted with what she had created, she couldn't stop herself from watching the video.
Reverend Billings stepped over to Vicki. He bent down and whispered in her ear, "Lisa is here."
Vicki slowly looked around the room. Her eyes found Lisa. She looked at her finding it difficult to see her through the tears that were now flowing.
There was absolute silence in the room when the tape ended. Lisa looked over at her mother. The image presented to the world by the woman was as pathetic as the last image of Lisa on the tape. She looked alone, adrift, and lost.
The film had an unexpected result on Lisa. It sucked the anger, hate, and frustration from her. It left her feeling alone, adrift, and lost. Lisa was paralyzed.
Standing next to Lisa, Reverend Billings whispered, "Lisa, you need your mother. She is here for you. Open your arms."
"Mommy?"
Reverend Billings watched Vicki rush to her daughter. Mother and daughter hugged, wept, and murmured little nothings to each other. There was nothing coherent about their words except for the expression of their need for each other. Forgiveness had not yet been achieved, but it was knocking on the doors of their hearts.
Reverend Billings quietly left the house. He walked over to where John was waiting anxiously by his truck. He leaned against the side of the truck beside John.
"You can go in now," Reverend Billings said.
"Is everything going to be all right?" John asked sounding very worried. He had seen the bruises on Vicki caused by Rose. On the trip to the house, Lisa had seemed even angrier than Rose had ever acted. He had watched the action through the window. The hug had surprised him, but he feared that it could still turn to violence.
"They are healing. It will take time, but at least it has begun," Reverend Billings said.
"Thank you," John said.
"I'll see you in church Sunday."
"Sure," John said. He rushed towards the house.
Reverend Billings looked up at the sky and said, "Two souls made whole. Thank you God for letting me be a part of it."