SHANE. In my experiences with life I had often searched for something or someone to satisfy a void. When I did, I often settle for something substandard or second rate. I did so because I felt I must fill an opening. When I did not look or attempt to resolve a particular deficiency, I often stumbled onto what it is that I actually needed. Life tends to provide us with our most valuable assets when we least expect it or while we’re not even particularly looking.

In life, we need to pay the closest attention when we aren’t paying attention at all.

Life has a way of sneaking up on us.

This, in itself, was why I paid attention to all of the little details.

Because I didn’t like surprises.

“So, you think you’re going to be alright, babe?” I asked as we turned the corner into the residential neighborhood.

“I think so, as long as you’re close by. You make me feel really comfortable. I don’t get excited anymore around you,” she giggled.

“Nervous?” I asked.

“Duh,” she sighed.

“How long?” I asked.

“I don’t know for sure, I think it’s been ten years. I’m not really sure. I don’t remember. It’s been a long time. Since before I graduated high school if I remember right,” she said.

No different than I, Kace didn’t remember a tremendous amount of her childhood. Her memories - or lack of memories - lasted into her teens. I suppose her problems lasted longer as well. I didn’t remember my childhood because I was moved around and my father was gone. She didn’t remember because she had events or circumstances her mind chose to set aside.

Coming from the background she came from, it was no surprise to see her mind set aside memories associated with abuse. One funny thing about the human mind was that it would often set aside a period of time – maybe even a few years – to get rid of a few memories or particular events.

Kace hadn’t initially told me, but eventually she admitted her father had abused her mother physically. Her mother finally left her father after many years of being beaten. Kace, at the time, was about twelve years old. Being exposed to this type of abuse generally made the children either totally opposed to abuse or an abuser themselves. It seemed to depend on the person and how their mind processed it.

“By the GPS, we’re just a few blocks, you sure you’re alright?” I asked.

“My stomach feels funny. But you can’t fix it. Just go, I’ll be fine,” she responded.

I was glad we decided to come see her mother at this point in time, long before the holidays. It might allow Kace to make the adjustments needed, possibly allowing her to see her family during the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays.

“Well, here we are, house number 648,” I said as we pulled up to the front of the home.

She swallowed heavily.

“You alright?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she sounded like she had a frog in her throat.

“Babe, any time you’re ready to go just tell me so. I’m damn near as nervous as you,” I chuckled lightly.

She nodded.

“Who, babe? Who’s the most beautiful woman in the world?” I asked.

She pointed to her chest and smiled, “I am.”

“Yes, babe. You are,” I said as I leaned toward her seat and kissed her.

“Ready?” I asked.

She opened the door to the truck and got out.

I guess that means yes.

Kace was one of the strongest women I had ever met. Kace was a true survivor. One hundred pounds of tough. As I fumbled with the door handle, she stepped around to my side of the truck and waited. Finally, I opened the door, and stepped outside the truck.

“Alright, let’s do this,” I said as I held my arm out to my side.

After she attached herself to my arm, we walked up the sidewalk together to the front porch of the house. As I reached out to ring the buzzer, the door slowly opened.

“Oh dear Lord. The pictures didn’t do you any justice. Kace, you’re beautiful,” a woman said through the opened door. She was petite, blonde, and very pretty.

“Come in,” she said.

As she held her arms out, they began to shake. We stepped inside the home, and Kace immediately hugged her mother. Ten years of sorrow began to run down the cheeks of both women as they embraced. The sounds of sobbing muffled the sound of everything else.

“I’m sorry,” Kace sobbed as she wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders.

“No, baby. I’m so sorry. I never should have let you go,” her mother apologized as she began to cry uncontrollably.

I stepped to the side of the doorway, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the situation. Seeing Kace crying like this was not easy for me. Seeing people cry, in general, was difficult for me; especially women. Feeling somewhat helpless, I found a chair and sat quietly as they stood and cried in each other’s arms. Slowly, I pulled my hood up over my head and pressed the soft fabric into the sides of my face. Eventually, they walked into the living room and sat down side-by-side on the couch. I sat and watched them exchange short embarrassed glances at each other as they covered their mouths and tried to stop crying. Eye makeup streamed down each of their faces.

“I missed you so much,” Kace sobbed.

“I missed you, Kace,” her mother whimpered as she leaned over and kissed Kace’s forehead.

Her mother stood, looked at me, back toward Kace, and sat down as if she were confused on what to do or how to digest the entire reunion. Overcome with emotion, her mind appeared to be having a difficult time deciding the proper thing to do with the situation. I realized not seeing or talking to your child in a decade; and then trying to start over as if nothing happened would be difficult at best.

“Oh God, this is too much, Kace. I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack,” her mother said as she held her hand against her chest.

Her breathing was short and choppy as she tried to control her sobbing.

“Mother, don’t say that,” Kace smiled and wiped her eyes as she spoke.

Finally.

They’re smiling.

Her mother, between sobs, laughed. As they hugged again, I relaxed and leaned back into the chair. Watching someone cry tears of joy can be uplifting. Watching someone cry tears of sorrow has always caused me to feel helpless. In my opinion, this was a combination of both. My emotions were riding a roller coaster and I felt I couldn’t see the track ahead.

“So, this is Shannon?” her mother asked as she stood again.

“No mother. Shane,” Kace responded.

As her mother approached, I stood. As she opened her arms and reached for me, I met her with a heartfelt hug. As we embraced, she sighed.

“I’m so glad you saved her,” she said as she released me from her grasp.

Before I could respond, Kace spoke up.

“Mother, I saved myself. Shane has just been here for me. He talked me into seeing you. I’ve been scared. If anyone knows, you know,” Kace took a breath and wiped her face.

“Oh look at us with our makeup all over our faces, come on,” her mother said as she grabbed Kace’s hand and led her away.

I felt even more at ease as I heard them laughing and talking in the bathroom. A mother and her daughter reunited after an extended length of time. I exhaled and relaxed. I thought of my father, and how long he had been gone. It had only been a few years since his death, but seeing him now would be gut wrenching at best. I recalled all of the time he was away when I was young, and seeing him when he would return from war. The initial excitement of seeing him was almost overwhelming. Sometimes, I felt as if I was going to vomit. After some time, my emotions settled, and I felt as if he had never left. When it was time for his next deployment, I would become angry and short tempered. My father’s company, although sacred, was a difficult time for me emotionally.

They walked back into the room laughing. As if I knew what each of them felt, I sensed I could predict what emotions they would feel throughout the meeting, based on my many similar meetings with my father. As my body relaxed, I slumped into the soft chair, and got lost in the memories of my father, my childhood, and my love for both. Almost immediately, I began to feel as if I were going to fall asleep.

Pulling the blankets tightly over his head, the sounds of the screaming were muffled. The closed bedroom door and the television on the other side of the wall prevented the little boy from hearing details.

As much as he feared what he may hear, he yeared to know. Slowly, he pulled the blankets away from his face, in an attempt to hear what was on the other side of the wall. His face barely visible and his head still covered, he peered through the opening he had created in the blankets.

From the other side of the wall, a muffled scream could be heard.

The little boy covered his head.

A dull thud.

The little boy uncovered his face, rubbing the soft fabric of the blanket into the sides of his cheeks.

Two voices, almost inaudible, alternated screams.

Another dull thud.

The little boy covered his face with the blanket, buried his head into the pillow, and cried.

As he lay in the only safe place he knew, the boy found comfort in the shelter of the blanket which lay atop his bed. It was there that he could always find comfort and peace.

Serenity.

There, with his face covered, he was always safe.