Free My Dear Stranger by Sarah Ann Walker

eventually.
     
     

 
     
    CHAPTER 7
     
     
     
      Lighting my hundredth cigarette I’m a little stunned by my sudden image of my parents.  I think I see them differently than I used to.  I think they may not have been quite as good as I thought they were when I was younger.  Or maybe because I’m a really good mom to Jamie I think they aren’t as good as I thought they were.  But maybe it’s only because I’m such a good mom that my parents seem less so.  I don’t know.  But I do feel a little differently toward them since the birth of Jamie, I think.
      Sitting here thinking about my parents I feel a little uneasy.  I feel like I should be mad at them, or tired of them, or indifferent toward them at the very least, which really I think I am.  I think I am indifferent toward my parents, almost sadly so.
      I’m not sur e how I feel, but regardless if the feelings I have are positive or negative, I think I’m mostly indifferent.  I don’t think I cared if they lived or died, but not in a bad way.  They were just my parents, and though we were never particularly close, they did seem to care for Jamie enough to acknowledge his birthdays with huge presents and lots of fanfare when they weren’t traveling.
     
      My mother was the second wife for my dad; a slightly older man who had had a wife and child before her.  But my mother was smart.  She had me immediately, to secure her place with my father.  She was smart because she birthed his only daughter and then never had another.  She was smart to quit when she was ahead.  And it did work out.  My parents were actually pretty great people.  They were well-liked by many, and they had a very good life together.  My mother picked the right man to ‘trap’, because she somehow knew that they would actually love each other past a forced marriage.  And they did.
      My fathe r had his previous life before my mother, and then he had this life with her, and rarely did the two mix.  From what I understand, my father’s first wife was a high school sweetheart he fell out of love with within only a few years of marriage, but he stayed for their son.  He stayed until he met my mother.  And though it seems like my mother was a home wrecker, apparently my father’s first wife was relieved when he finally left her as well.  From what I understand she moved on quickly after my father and she too is very happy with her second husband. 
      And so it all worked out.  When I was born I had a teenage half-brother I really didn’t know, but I had 2 parents who loved each other very much.
      Overall, I would say I had a good childhood, though a childhood often lonely because of the independence they gave me so they could be independent of me.
      And so I chose the ‘don’t acknowledge it so it never really happened’ outlook of my parents about everything in my life.  I chose to ignore that which hurt me so that it would eventually stop hurting me.
     
      And as I said my friends did try after the attack, but I couldn’t really understand them anymore.  My friends were young.  They still partied.  They still got drunk at college parties and slept with strangers.  They still acted like fools, and that was okay.  I was happy they could just be normal.  I was okay with wishing them well.  I was okay with walking away, because I wasn’t a party fool, I didn’t feel normal, and I didn’t trust anyone anymore anyway.
     
      I remember a month after the attack 3 of my girlfriends showing up at my apartment unexpectedly.  They brought alcohol and lots of smokes.  They planned to help me out of my funk.  They planned to liquor me up, make me get on with life, and they planned to make me live again.
  Or that's what I thought, at least from what they first told me.
  In reality, within 45 minutes of them drinking heavily, skirting around the giant issues I had, they laughed, gossiped, and talked about shopping, parties, and the guys they