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Chapter 20
I felt sick as I drove home and I knew The Russian would be feeling like shit too. I didn’t want to ruin his game today but I didn’t want to talk to him either before I had my head in order – there was no point in both of us getting angry again and hanging up on each other. We had to find a way to manage it because we wouldn’t survive it, and I was hoping Dad would give me perspective.
I drove into the churchyard, which was also my parents’ home, while Dad served the parish he was assigned to; I was about fifteen minutes early. I entered the front of the church to catch Mom in the vestibule; I knew she would be there handing out the hymn books while Dad was preparing in the small room beside the altar. Her first reaction was as expected.
“Carla! What’s wrong? What’s happened?” she asked, pulling me into her to kiss each cheek.
“Hi Mom, sorry to drop in unannounced ...”
“Don’t be silly, this is your home. Are you okay?” she said, cutting me off.
“I just needed a male perspective, no offense, and I thought I’d see you and enjoy Dad’s mass as well,” I said with a shrug, trying to keep it all super casual while my head thumped, my stomach churned, and I looked like death on legs.
We greeted a couple of parishioners and she handed them a hymn book. Mom turned back to me and shook her head, reading the situation immediately.
“Men,” she sighed. “Nevertheless, your father will be delighted to see you, it will make his day.” She softened and squeezed my hand, “makes my day too.”
“Thanks Mom,” I said, smiling at her. Mom didn’t easily give affection, she was very stoic, so it took a lot for her to say that. Then Dad came out towards the altar area and saw me. He did a double take, like he’d been caught in a time warp, and headed down the aisle, smiling and adjusting his church robes.
“My prayers have been answered,” he said, looking towards heaven. I smiled and shook my head at him while giving him a hello hug and kiss.
“Tell me you’re staying for mass and lunch after?” he said.
“I am staying for mass and lunch after, if that’s okay?” I offered, with a glance to Mom.
“Always,” Mom said.
“Wonderful, well today has just gotten better – a beautiful day, parishioners filling the seats and my two girls,” he grinned. It didn’t take much to make Dad happy.
“I’m going to go get a seat,” I said, leaving them both to their work, and slipped away. I was hoping I wouldn’t see any of my childhood male church or school friends and get my photo snapped with them ... heaven forbid!
I selected a seat and slipped into a pew, knelt and thanked God for good health, family, my new job, friends and for The Russian, and then Dad entered the altar to start mass. I joined in the hymns and prayers and enjoyed his sermon, which seemed to have been written for me that day – keeping the faith in each other and the world in modern times. I had full faith in The Russian, but he wasn’t having any in me. I didn’t know how to make him secure, I didn’t know if I had to change who I was to make that happen or if I should change. I returned to Dad’s sermon and then participated as best I could in the rest of the mass when I wasn’t drifting off going over the previous night’s argument in my head, again and again.
After Dad had seen off the last of the parishioners he joined Mom and me at home.
“You two have shrunk,” I observed.
“We’re getting older ... that’s what happens when you don’t see us often enough. Next time you come home, we’ll be a foot tall,” Dad joked.
I laughed. “It’s good to be home.”
“It’s good to have you home. Now come on, let’s get some of your Mom’s prize winning lemonade and chat.”
“Yes, get out of my kitchen while I work,” she said, bossing us. Mom got to fixing lunch while Dad and I moved into the lounge room to talk.
“We’ve heard and read a bit about your new boy, online of course,” Dad said.
I nodded. “I will be bringing him home to meet you as soon as the season’s over and he can get away.” Then I told Dad all about it; he listened attentively, sipping the cool homemade lemonade that Mom had made while I talked, finishing by reminding him he only had my perspective.
He sat back and thought about my situation for a short while.
“I’ve had a few people in your situation; a number of couples that I’ve had to give counsel to,” he said.
I breathed a sigh of relief, I knew he’d be able to help me see the light in the relationship; I dreaded the day I wouldn’t have my father’s counsel. I relaxed back in my chair, tired of talking, tired in general and listened to my Dad, trying to remember everything he was telling me.
“You have to remember, darling, that Alex has been very, very hurt,” my father explained. “He started off with a full trust bank and it has been completely diminished. Now he’s coming into this relationship, but you don’t have the benefit of a full trust account. You’ve got nothing in your trust account and you have to build it for him to trust you. The reverse of what most normal couples start with,” Dad said. “He’s asking you to prove you’re worthy when you’ve done nothing to prove you are not.”
I nodded, totally getting the big picture.
