His mom put the bowl aside and wiped her hands on her apron. “You just won’t give up. Not only are you not going to the party, you can’t go out for the rest of the week. Now go to your room.”
“No, no, no.” Connie gasped. “The dance is in two days. And Tommy asked me to meet him there. And it won’t cost that much. I’ll only need a few dollars.”
“I told you, we don’t have an extra few dollars.” His mother leaned against the table and heaved a deep breath. “I don’t care about the dance or Tommy or any boy for that matter.”
“I’m sorry. I promise I won’t bother you anymore. Just let me go to the dance, please? All my friends are meeting at –”
“I don’t want to hear it anymore. You’re not going anywhere for a week. It’s time you helped out more around here anyway." His mother turned her back on her.
Connie ran out, sobbing.
Michael leaned forward to get a better view.
I was about ten or eleven when this happened. It’s all coming back to me now.
He remembered that at the time all he wanted to do was go to the ballgame. He focused on the vision in front of him again.
Connie stormed back into the kitchen. “Mom, there’s been something bothering me for a while.”
“What now?” his mom said, spinning around quickly.
“Michael broke Daddy’s lamp in his office downstairs.”
“He what?” His mother threw a dish cloth in the sink. “Michael,” she yelled. “Get down here. Now.”
As Michael walked past Connie, she snickered. “You’re in trouble now.” She ran up the stairs, laughing.
“Hey, Mom,” he said. “Can we leave for the field soon? It’s the biggest game of the year. We have a chance to make the playoffs.”
His mother shook her head. “You are not going anywhere until you tell me the truth.”
“The truth about what?”
“Did you break Daddy’s lamp in the basement?”
He looked down at his feet and stayed silent.
His mother grabbed his chin, hoisting it up. “Look at me. Did you break it?”
“Well, yeah, I did,” he said in a whisper.
She smacked the side of his face and nudged him forward. “Go upstairs.”
“But the game’s in half an hour,” he said, rubbing his cheek.
“You’re not going to any game.” His mom faced him, glaring. “Go to your room and think about what you did. I’ll let you know when you can come back down.”
Michael stomped out the urge to argue any further. Instead he asked, “Can I at least lick the spoon?”
“No,” she yelled and grabbed her head as if it ached. “All of you leave me alone.”
He scurried upstairs and stopped at Connie’s room. Her door was open. “Why did you tell on me? I can’t go to my game and now I’m stuck inside.”
“Now you know how I feel.” She slammed the door in his face.
“You’re a crummy excuse for a sister,” he said, banging on her door.
“Yeah, well, you’re a crummy ball player,” she shouted. “Now go away.”
He went to his room and pounded his pillow. Not only was he going to miss his ball game but he wasn’t given the opportunity to satisfy his sweet tooth. His mom always let him lick the spoon and bowl. Now she was so mad at everyone that they’d probably not even get a slice of cake.
Michael felt Jesus’ presence behind him.
“Connie wasn’t mad at me. She was mad at my mother,” he said to Jesus.
Michael continued to watch himself as a young boy.
“Hey, Sammie,” he said, peering out his bedroom door into the hallway looking for his younger sister. “Are you upstairs?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “I’m going to the park with Patty and Karen.”
“To the park? Did Mommy say you could go?”
“Yup,” she squealed, staring at him with an impish grin. She stuck her tongue out.
“You little brat.”
She giggled.
“Um, do you want to play with me instead?” Michael asked. “I’ll give you gum.”
Gum was to his younger sister like an apple was to Eve.
“Bubble gum?” Her eyes lit up. “What kind?” She headed toward his bedroom.
“Any kind you want. I have a big stash in here.” He waved her in. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
She stepped into his room, her eyes like moon balls, gazing at the big, bright orange bag of treats.
Michael handed her a piece of gum. “If you play a game with me I’ll give you more.”
Her face shone like a Christmas tree star. “Yay!” she yelled, jumping up and down.
He put his fingers to his lips. “Shhh. We have to play quietly. Now listen to me. We’re going to play a secret game. Kinda like Scooby Doo and his friends. We’re gonna solve a mystery.”
She ripped the gum paper and stuffed the wad of Bazooka into her mouth. “Okay. What do we do?”
“First, go downstairs and find the chocolate cake Mom made today.”
“That’s easy,” she said, smacking her gum loud. “It’s on the counter. I saw it.”
“See, you’re good at this game,” he said. “Take a butter knife and just pull some of the icing off. Don’t cut the cake or anything. Just slide the knife softly so you stick it with some chocolate and bring it upstairs. But don’t let Mom see you. She’s in a really bad mood.”
Her little forehead frowned, looking confused. “Won’t she be mad if I do that?”
“Only if she sees you. That’s why I said you have to be real quiet.”
“What kind of game is this?”
He rolled his eyes, losing patience. “Mom has to figure out who snuck some of the icing. Then when she can’t figure it out, we go and tell her we solved the mystery. We tell her Connie did it. But we both have to keep the truth a secret forever, okay?”
She giggled and Michael gave a sinister laugh, knowing full well Sammie would mess up the cake.
“Okay,” she said. “That sounds funny. I’ll do it.”
Michael turned away from the scene on the cave’s wall and looked at Jesus. Sorrow filled his heart. “I miss her so much.”
“I know,” Jesus said. “Facing your past can be painful. It can also give you a sense of peace and understanding.”
The pain of Sammie’s death a few months ago hit Michael hard but at the same time watching her as a child brought a smile to his face. How trusting and adorable she was. She would do anything to spend time with him – the same way he used to be with Connie.
Michael forced himself to focus on the wall again. Sammie sprinted down the stairs. She peeked around the corner to the living room. Their mother was nowhere to be seen. She climbed up on a chair, took a butter knife out of the drawer, and slid it across the cake, chopping up part of the top, making a big mess on the counter. She grabbed a piece of paper towel and tried to push the uneven, choppy chunk back and rushed back upstairs.
“Here.” She handed the knife to Michael. “Do I get more gum?”
Michael reached into his bag, a treasure trove of sugar and chocolate, and handed her a package of Wrigley’s Spearmint gum. Sammie yelped in joy. He stared at the knife, covered in chocolate icing.
Oh, what a glorious sight this is.
His tongue snaked out, caressing it slowly at first, enjoying the initial rush of sweet ecstasy. A chunk fell to his hands. He used his finger to pick it up and twirl it in his mouth, savoring every ounce. “Yum,” he said. “Isn’t this fun?”
“I guess,” she said. “Can I have some?”
“Sure.” He gave her the knife. “Be careful.”
“I will.” She skillfully licked a good portion of the icing, part of it covering her face.
They both laughed as Michael and Sammie battled for some of the icing hanging from the tip of her nose.
“What happened to the cake?” screamed his mother from downstairs.
Michael yanked himself back to the inside of the cave and held his hand up to block out the image on the cave’s wall. “We learn through our mistakes,” Jesus said. “Keep watching, Michael.”
With a slow hesitant movement Michael turned his head toward the cave’s wall. Yes, it was a childhood prank but he hurt his sister and now she was dead. He couldn’t right this wrong.
“I want to know who ruined your father’s cake?” his mother yelled.
Michael was already going to have to face his father’s wrath about the lamp. He’d already been punished so he sent Sammie downstairs. She ran into the kitchen with icing still lingering on her nose and smeared on her pink cheeks. She grinned.
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Sammie said. “We were just playing a game. And I can’t remember the rules.” She smiled and snapped her little fingers. “Oh, yeah, I remember. You have to guess who did it. But I’ll help you. Cuz we’re playing Scooby Doo.” She jumped up and down, happy she remembered the game. “Connie did it,” she recalled, flashing a wider smile with all the innocence and trust a child had in her brother who had roped her into believing it was just a game.
His mother opened a kitchen drawer – the drawer all feared – and took out a black leather belt. “Not only did you ruin the cake.” She picked up a paper towel and wiped Sammie’s face clean. “You lied to me.”
“No, Mommy, it was just a game.”
Michael watched the scene on the wall, wincing as he saw his mother flip Sammie over her knee, whacking her little bottom four times.
He took several steps back from the cave’s wall as Sammie’s wails crushed his heart. “I wanted to get back at Connie,” he said to Jesus. “Now Sammie’s gone. I should have apologized for that day.”
Jesus pointed to the wall. “She knew you were sorry.”
Michael stared at the wall. She saw the vision of Sammie running upstairs and into his room rubbing her behind and back. Her tear-stained, red face looked confused. “Mommy said I wasn’t supposed to touch the cake. It was for Daddy’s birthday tonight. She didn’t like this new game.”
“I’m so sorry, Sammie,” Michael said as his voice started to break. “I really just wanted to get Connie in trouble because she got me in trouble.”
Sammie wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweater and hiccupped. “I don’t like this game. Mommy’s mad at me.”
Michael hugged his little sister. “It’s a bad game. We’re never gonna play it again. I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”
She nodded. “Yes. But I closed my eyes and thought of something nice, like some day having a Barbie house, and a Barbie car. Just like you taught me to do when we get a whipping. So it wasn’t so bad.”
Michael smiled. “Tomorrow after chores I’ll play with you. Whatever you want to play, even those dumb Barbie dolls. I promise.”
She giggled through her glistening tears. “They’re not dumb. You’ll see it will be fun to dress them up. Can I have another piece of gum? I think it will make my boo boo be better.”
Taking out three more pieces of Bazooka, he handed them to her. He swallowed back his guilt. “Here, take the whole bag.”
The wall on the cave turned black and as quickly as the scene had appeared, it disappeared.
Michael turned to Jesus. “I forgot that I tried to make it up to her.”
“You not only apologized, your actions were loving and she accepted it all,” Jesus said. “Sammie never looked back on that day. She moved on and never let it define her future. Now, it is time you do the same.”
Michael was silent for a few moments, digesting the scene he had witnessed and Jesus’ words. “I never realized that my mom was battling her own anger and disappointments. I guess she took it out on my older sister. Connie took it out on me and I tried to do the same.” He shook his head in shame.
“Everyone hurts at one time or another and some use that hurt to hurt others to heal themselves, until a person with courage stops the circle of anger,” Jesus said.
“I’ve done my share,” Michael said.
Jesus shook his head. “You have already broken your family’s cycle of this behavior, Michael. You’ve been a supportive, compassionate and loving brother to Sammie, right up until her death. Even though your relationship with Connie is strained, you know in your heart you would always be there to help her if she needed you.”
Michael nodded. “But would she?”
“Does it matter?” Jesus continued, “Even with the abuse you endured at the hands of your father, you would help him in his time of need.”
Michael looked at Him and didn’t waiver. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“You are human. It’s okay to be unsure of certain things. You will have to work out your relationship with your father your way and in your own time. You are a great father to Elizabeth. You could have laid the same anger given to you on your daughter. You never did. You started a circle of love within your own family.”
“Don’t give me too much credit. I get annoyed with my daughter at times.”
Jesus smiled. “I did not say you were perfect.”
Michael grinned, relaxing his shoulders but then his sorrow returned as he thought about his wife. “Why did Vicki have to die so young?”
Jesus guided him to another room. “Michael, everyone is troubled with struggles and hardships. Why must you dwell on those instead of my Father’s blessings?”
“I’m a man who falters a lot.”
“There are men who represent me who falter many times,” Jesus said. “You are human and at times frail, especially when you are without my Father’s spirit.”
Michael’s regret returned. “Why was Vickie taken away from us? She was so young. She never had a chance to hold our daughter.”
“You must forgive yourself first before you can forgive others. And when you do, you will discover the answers to your questions.”
“I’m the reason why Vicki never got to hold Elizabeth,” he whispered. “It’s my fault.”
Jesus walked ahead and indicated for Michael to follow him. “Why are you unable to live life as my Father intended? Why do you dwell on the past and not let it go?”
“I try, I really do.” Michael sighed. “When my salary was cut, I worked two part-time jobs and Vicki worked longer hours. She tended to worry about money more than I did. Can’t say I blamed her, we were struggling to pay our mortgage. When we weren’t working, we were too exhausted to spend time together. The longer this went on, the longer we retreated into our own little worlds.”
“All families have challenges. Why do you think your burdens are more than others?”
Michael shrugged, not sure how to answer. Of course he knew everyone faced heartache and challenges, but when he was knee-deep in his own conflict he would forget about the world around him.