Give Me Grace

Chapter 4

Part One

After Miles and I finished cleaning out my brother’s old room, we thought we’d call it a day. It was spotless. No trash, no cobwebs, and no dust. I would need to repaint this room and hopefully, that would brighten up the place. Maybe even replace the wooden floors with carpet. But that’s a task for a later date.

“That’s so fucked up. You are not to blame. I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Miles empathized with me.

“Of course, I know that now. It was my dad’s fault. He ruined the family. Not me. It just took me a while to realize it.”

Back then, I was a child who didn’t know any better. It wasn’t until I moved here that I realized my father’s control over the family. My dad manipulated everyone. First me, when I caught him, then my mom and siblings when he was in jail.

“Even after all the manipulation, you still turned out to be pretty amazing,” he said as he pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead.

“You can thank my grandpa for that. Moving here may have not been a good experience for the rest of my family, but it was great for me. At least it was when he was around.”

“What do you mean by that?” He pulled away and stared at me intently.

“When we moved here, we seemed to have some sort of stability and discipline. My parents didn’t fight in front of us and my siblings and I got along better. But that changed when my grandpa died. And I haven’t spoken to anyone in my family since I moved out.”

“That must have been tough, but I’m sure you have your reasons,” he sighed as he turned the flashlight on.

“It’s getting dark, we should head back to the hotel. We can pick up where we left off tomorrow.”

Miles agreed without protest and we made our way back to the truck. It was a long day with all the moving and cleaning and all I wanted was dinner and a hot shower. We had to come back tomorrow to finish clearing the place and then hopefully the electrician and plumber would come by to complete their exam and get the services turned back on. 

“You said when you and your family moved here, things changed. How?”

***

When my mom told us we were going to be moving into a bigger house, we were all excited. We all thought we were going to have our own rooms again. In the apartment we lived in, no one had a room except my dad. We lived in that apartment for almost two years with my dad going in and out.

Before my dad was released from jail, we used the one bedroom for all of our things, our clothes, and toys. My mom stayed on the bed in the living room while my siblings and I slept in the room. But once my dad came back, he sold all of our things and made us sleep in the living room.

At first, my mom tried to sleep in the living room with us, but my dad made her sleep in the bedroom with him. She was scared of him, as was I. But my siblings weren’t. They didn’t see the evil in him like my mom and I did. He made sure of it.

When we moved into Mr. Bates’s house, we were in the same situation, except we didn’t sleep in the living room. There was something about Mr. Bates that demanded respect. Maybe it was fear or maybe it was something else.

I can’t really say what it was that made my parents change, but if I had to guess, it was because Mr. Bates had power. Not in the way most people think. His power was authority. Despite looking frail and weak, he carried himself with such a strong sense of authority, that even my father did his best to avoid him. 

Mr. Bates had rules, rules that could not be broken, otherwise, we’d be kicked out. The first rule was we all worked. He didn’t tolerate laziness, he didn’t care that we were children. Since my mom was his caregiver, she was exempt from most tasks, but my father was not.

Mr. Bates told my dad he had three options. One, move out because he’s not going to take his shit. Two, shut up and take care of the farm like everyone else. Or three, get a job and pay rent.

At first, my dad left. He didn’t want to be told what to do by an old man. But life was hard when he had no money, so he came back and told Mr. Bates he would find a job. After a couple of months of “searching for a job”, my dad finally gave in and started working in the fields with the rest of us. Of course, he wasn’t happy about it.

My mom would tell him that as long as they don’t do anything to upset Mr. Bates, things will get better. She told him that Mr. Bates was not charging rent and that he would supply the food. Mr. Bates even paid my mom a salary for taking care of him. Not that he needed much help at first. It wasn’t until he was bedridden that he really needed her.

The second rule was no fighting in the house. He believed arguing and fighting should be left outside and never brought into the house. It was the rule I loved the most. It meant that inside the house was a safe zone. And although I loved being on the farm with the animals, I loved the protection I felt with this rule. No one could target me. At least if they did, they’d have to avoid doing it around Mr. Bates.

Because of the no-fighting rule, we no longer saw our parents arguing like we used to. Although we didn’t see it, it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. We could always tell when our parents were fighting, even if they tried to act like they weren’t. My dad was still seeing other women and my mom always found out. Sometimes, I heard them arguing late at night, but at least they were civil in front of us.

The third rule was family time. However, this rule was the least followed since we all were always working in the field or on the farm. The only family time we had was during breakfast and dinner. As a part of my mom’s caregiver duties, she had to cook for Mr. Bates, which meant she had to cook for all of us. 

My dad hated it, but what could he do? He didn’t want to eat the food Mr. Bates ate because it was always filled with fresh produce from the farm. Mr. Bates only ate what he could raise, nothing more. Except with me. But that’s a story for another time.

Every day we would sit at the table and have breakfast and dinner. Lunch was the only time we didn’t eat together. Mainly because we were in school at the time and on the weekends, we were working at the farmer’s market.

These rules were always bent in one way or another. But the rule that was absolute was Mr. Bates’s condition for free living: we must help keep the farm running and take care of it. And as a result, we learned everything there is to know about farming.

The strict schedule of school, homework, and farming kept us busy every day. Of course, Mr. Bates allowed us days off, but only for a good reason. And since I learned to enjoy farming, I never took a day off.

The schedule also made it hard for my dad to see other women like he used to, but he always found a way. And my mom always found out. Late at night, after Mr. Bates went to bed, I could hear my dad sneaking out of the house. He had learned Mr. Bates’s schedule and would be home before Mr. Bates woke. 

Oftentimes, my dad would return drunk or high and my mom would be up waiting for him. I heard them arguing many times throughout the years about the different women my dad was with. All the money my mom made from working for Mr. Bates, he took.

He spent it on women, drugs, and alcohol. And on more than one occasion, my mom found out the woman he spent the most on was her own sister. We never saw our aunt, and my mom refused to allow us to, which none of us minded. Our aunt was mean and didn’t care about whose feelings she hurt.

When my mom caught him coming home drunk, he would hit her, and take his anger out on her. Then he would bed her. As I got older, I got more pissed off about it. But I no longer blamed my dad. I blamed her for allowing him to continue to come back and hurt her.