Unwanted Visitor

It happened. The thing I dreaded, or even feared the most. IT HAPPENED. And I acted exactly as I didn't want to.

This past weekend was the annual family Polish Picnic. Gatherers have dwindled in size, but crowded still the same. There were probably more people that were there that I did not know or remember, than there was that I do. I truthfully only wanted to attend to see my brother Scott and his kids, my sister Jean with her kids. Mission accomplished.

Since January when I got the invite, I had been going back and forth with do I want to go, do I need to go, should I go, and don't go. I wanted to go for the younger version of myself, to give her some peace, but the older me was not sure if going was going to be the best idea. Even my partner did not want to go because of all the horror stories that were fed to us about them. Afterall, I was little when they left, and they didn't know me as ME, they knew me as the little me. Were they going to like the adult me? That was the question.

Closer to the event date, I started feeling this pit in my stomach that someone unwanted was going to show up. I imagined somehow our mother would find out and show her face. Thankfully that did not happen.

It was about nine a.m. and I was helping my sister get the picnic set up. We put out the Cornhole, set up the kids games, and then I sat down. It was too early for party-goers, and it was decently breezy out. There was this white pickup truck that strolled in, and I knew instantly who it was. I threw on my sunnies to hide the tears that were starting to swell behind my eyes. It was Him. It had to be. I kept trying to tell myself it couldn't be. I don't even know what kind of vehicle he would have, or what he would look like after 18 years. But somehow the feeling remained. Little hairs on my body stood and suddenly I felt small.

He walked across the parking lot with that same limp, and carried himself across the long stretch of land. It was Him. And there was no where to go.

My sister and brothers suffered the most with him when they were children. When I was about a year old my parents divorced and I was forced to do visitations three times a year and every other Christmas. Every visitation that my mother wasn't at, my brothers would take turns, making sure I was never alone with him.

I knew that this had to be hard for the both of them. Even being 40 and 42, those traumatic feelings don't go away even if you were healed, but they both put themselves in between him and I and my daughter. He never got the chance to talk to me and I'm grateful for that. At the same time, I hate that they did that for me.

I wished things were different. I wish that he wasn't such a bad guy, maybe I could have had a relationship with the dude, but that kind of evil doesn't change.

When we were driving back home, a thought occurred to me. How did he know about the Picnic if no one talks to him, and he doesn't have a presence on social media? The only common link is Scott. They communicate every so often... what if he just had mentioned in passing that I was going to be there? Because he's never gone to one. So why now?

It really is a mystery that I don't think I want the answer to.