Strengthening the bonds And helping your friends through good times, bad times and worse
By Jayme Wiley,
Jayplaywriter
The phone rings and wakes me up. It's 2:30 in the morning. I grab the phone and grumble hello. "I need help. My parents are being crazy again, and I
need you to come pick me up." I angrily crawl out of bed and put clothes on to go pick up my boyfriend. I'm only in high school, but this phone call is a weekly thing.
thing.
My boyfriend of four and a half years and his sister were my best friends. We met at the end of my freshman year and hit it off instantly. Maybe it was because I desperately needed friends and they desperately needed someone to care about them. My parents moved me to a small Kansas town at the beginning of the year, and T.J. and Stephanie came later that year. So we were all new-kid outcasts. I was 15 but to be their friend, I had to grow up quick and deal with things I had never seen before.
seen before. T.J. and I became friends before we started dating and I became a third kid at his house. I would stay over there every night until my curfew and then sadly head home at 10. I liked being out of my house just like any teenager does; but at
T. J.'s, I saw things that nobody should have to witness. There were incidents of mental and physical abuse from his parents and extended family members. His parents were alcoholics, and I rarely saw them sober.
One of the first incidents of abuse I saw happened on a summer evening. T.J., Stephanie, and I had invited some friends over to their house to hang out before we were to head to the annual carnival in town. T.J., then 17, wanted to drink before we went to the carnival and his parents said that was fine as long as he was responsible. When we returned to his house, his parents had obviously changed their minds. T.J.'s room was in the basement and there were five or six of us sitting talking on the couch. His father stumbled down the stairs saying he needed to talk to T.J. now. T.J. followed him up and I snuck up behind him to watch from the bathroom. I could feel something was wrong. They stood outside on the porch arguing about why there were so many people there and why T.J. was drunk. The truth was that T.J.'s father was so drunk I could smell the alcohol on him. I remember coming out of the bathroom and peeking my head around the corner just enough so that I could see but couldn't be seen.
T. J.'sfather picked up a rake and smacked T.J. in the back of the head with it. T.J. began to fight back. I was scared shitless. I ran downstairs to tell everyone they needed to leave and grabbed Stephanie to come upstairs with me. Once we were upstairs, the fight was on. T.J. and his father were in the living room. T.J. was punching holes in walls and throwing things at doors. He even went so far as to throw a jackhammer at his dad's head. I ran to him crying hysterically and begged for him to stop. I grabbed his ankles trying to slow him down as he took step after step towards his father. There was so much anger in his eyes that I don't know if anything would have stopped him. His mother called the police and they showed up in the middle of the fight. The police questioned me about what happened, and I told them what I knew.
pened, and I told them what had I had Stephanie take me home after I was interrogated. I tried to walk into my house as though nothing had happened even though my eyes were swollen from tears and my cheeks looked like strawberries. My mom asked what was wrong and I said nothing. I went to bed and got a call a couple of hours later from T.J. He wanted to stay at my house for the night and in order for him to do that, I would have to tell my parents why. My parents
always had a feeling that something was not right with T.J.'s family, but they never knew the extent of their problems.
knew the extent of this happen too frequently with Stephanie and T.J. I was their lifeline; the only stable thing they had in their lives. I took them to school every day, invited them over for family dinners and listened to their problems; all the while, I tried to be their parent and friend rolled into one, which eventually put too much of a strain on me. My sophomore year in college I broke up with T.J. We depended on each other in unhealthy ways. Stephanie and I remain friends, but I have finally just gotten to the point where I can say, "Stephanie, you're an adult and I can't make your decisions for you."
The summer I met this family my life changed. I learned that helping people is not always helpful to them or you. I made it easier for T.J. and Stephanie not to deal with their problems themselves. I am grateful for my parents. I've been fortunate enough to have my parents show me what kind of parent I want to be and to have T.J. and Stephanie's parents show me what kind of parent I don't want to be.
9.23.04 Jayplay
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