Truth or Consequences

I absolutely could not effectively tell my mom a lie.  I don’t know if it was her piercing gaze when she asked me about something or the stuff I was learning at Covenant Evangelical United Brethren Church but I could never pull it off.    “I don’t know” was no longer an accepted response either. (NOTE: I’ve since become aware of that “lie-detector invisible ray” that most parents seem to have.)

One day I was tagging along with my older brother (who wanted me to be anywhere but with him).  We were at a neighbor’s house swimming in their wading pool.  All at once, I became aware that the other kids were screaming, yelling, and getting out of the pool.  They ran off and escaped down the alley behind our houses.  I was not aware of what they were reacting to because I was younger AND because I had tuned them out because they were accusing me of having cooties in order to get rid of me. I was good at tuning things out and learned later in life where this skill came from…but more on that later.

Not wanting to be alone I got out of the pool to follow the other kids.  It was at this point that I noticed the mom of the household at the back door screaming something at me.  I actually thought she was yelling at the other kids for something, but I didn’t stick around to find out. 

Later that evening this same crazed woman came to our door and demanded to talk to my mom.  I was called downstairs some minutes later.  My mom told me that Mrs. Crazy had just accused me of calling her a “bitch.”  I was in first grade!  I didn’t even know what that meant!  I rather had a feeling it wasn’t good, but I did not know exactly why.  Therefore, I looked at Mrs. Crazy and then at my mother and said that I had not called her any name. 

Mrs. Crazy went even crazier and began calling me a little liar and some other things that made my mom’s blood boil. I could tell because my mom had “that look” on her face. Then my mom looked at me with pleading eyes that said, “Just apologize and get this woman out of here.”  Nevertheless, my true self would not tell this convenient lie.  I said that I was sorry that Mrs. Crazy was so upset but to admit to calling her that name would indeed be a lie and I could not do that. She started to walk toward me screaming what I later identified as obscenities.

 It was then that somewhere in my young mind a connection was made.  This woman’s children were mean to other kids.  This woman’s children did not seem to like being around this woman.  In fact, they seemed scared of her.  They frequently had bruises and a few times broken bones.  I did not put these pieces into a meaningful context until years later, but I knew that I would need to tell the lie because someone was going to get hurt if I didn’t.  I have no idea how I “knew” this, but I did.  My mom would be disappointed and I would probably be punished, but I wasn’t going to let something worse happen. 

I voiced the apology the best I could and Mrs. Crazy left telling my mom to get control of her kids.  I braced myself for the punishment but to my surprise, my mom hugged me.  I looked up and saw tears in her eyes.  I told her I was sorry and she hugged me tighter.  She told me to go back to playing and left me, bewildered, on the stairs. 

After some time I realized she knew I had lied.  Of course, she knew.  I could never lie to her.  She knew what I had done but she never talked with me about it again.  Child abuse was not something even adults talked about back then I suppose.  I have to tell you though, after that day I became even more thankful that I had a loving mom, dad, aunts, uncles, and grandparents…even if I could not tell you exactly why.