Melanie pumped her arms back and forth, breathing in and out. It was shortly after six in the evening, and she’d been power walking on the treadmill for forty minutes. She was sweating heavily, her heart rate averaged 165, and she was planning to keep it that way for as long as she could. This wouldn’t be hard to do as long as she continued her current pace of 4.8 miles per hour. Melanie also loved how exhilarating it felt when her body released endorphins, and the euphoria alone was reason enough to work out more than once a day.
Melanie lifted the cold bottle of water from the cup holder, took a couple of swigs, and set it back down. Then she picked up the TV selector from the other drink slot, flipped through a few channels, and settled on a rerun of Good Times. James and Florida Evans loved and encouraged all three of their children, and while Melanie always enjoyed watching them, there were times when the show made her sad. And rightfully so, given that her own parents had been just the opposite. It was true that Melanie hadn’t lived in poverty the way the children on the show had, but Thelma, Michael, and J.J. had still been blessed with a more loving household.
Melanie watched more of the Good Times episode and then increased the incline of the treadmill. That way she’d be able to burn more calories. But as she worked harder on her uphill climb and watched more laughter and happy times among the Evanses, a fusion of sweat and depressing tears poured down her face. Maybe she was as messed up as Brad had said she was, and she actually did need professional help. She’d been raised in so much dysfunction, she’d buried most of it in the back of her mind, and she had to think hard just to remember certain events. But for some reason, she suddenly thought about a number of terrible things that had gone on in her parents’ household—certain things she’d never told another living soul, except Alicia.
Like, for instance, there was the time she’d heard her mother telling her father that what he needed to do was take a class or something, because his sexual skills were just plain pathetic. Then, to add insult to injury, she’d told him that she needed a man who was packing something a lot bigger than he was carrying. She needed someone who knew how to make her scream. Melanie remembered how at seven years old she hadn’t known everything, but she’d known exactly what that had meant. It wasn’t long after that when her parents had become swingers. Sometimes they had gone to a swingers club, sometimes to another couple’s home, and sometimes they’d invited another couple to their own house. Whenever they did this, they sent Melanie to her room and told her to stay there until they said she could come out. Or they told her she could go spend the night with a friend. Sometimes when Melanie stayed home, however, she would crack her door open, sneak down the stairs to their lower level, and see things she shouldn’t have. But until this day, her parents didn’t know that.
Melanie’s eyes filled with tears again. Her childhood had been beyond disturbing, as her parents would fuss, cuss, and physically fight whenever they got drunk enough. But finally, right before she’d started high school, things had changed. Her dad had been in a near-fatal car accident, her parents had become closer, and they’d stopped arguing, fighting, and swinging for good. Melanie hadn’t understood how they could make such a drastic turnaround in the way they felt about each other, but she’d once heard her mother telling a friend that she’d never fully appreciated her husband until she thought she was going to lose him. Then, not long after her dad had been released from a two-month hospital stay, he’d realized how short life was and that all he wanted was to be at peace. What this had basically meant was that her father had made up his mind to go along with whatever her mother said or did. He never disagreed with her, and life was good for them. It was almost as if he no longer had an opinion about anything, not even Melanie’s weight. They’d also become “devout Christians,” as her mother tended to say, yet she judged, belittled, and made Melanie feel bad every chance she got. It was the reason Melanie had wished all her life that she’d had different parents, and, she was ashamed to say, she still felt the same today.
What was also interesting was how her mother never treated Melanie badly in front of Brad, Alicia, or anyone else she knew. She had, of course, made a few snide comments about Melanie’s weight in front of them, but she never spoke rudely or as harshly to Melanie as she did when they weren’t around. She acted as though she and Melanie had the best mother-daughter relationship, and like she was the kindest person on Earth. What was sadder was that Melanie had always led Alicia to believe that was true. When Alicia said things such as, “Mel, your parents are the ideal couple” or “Mel, your parents are the kind of people to look up to,” Melanie agreed with her, and she sometimes told Alicia she was proud to call them her parents. She wasn’t sure why, but she just couldn’t admit to anyone, not even her best friend, that her parents basically just lived together and her mother couldn’t stand her own daughter.
Melanie heard the home phone ringing but kept up her pace on the treadmill. She wasn’t about to stop her workout when she was this close to the end, so whoever was calling would have to try back. But as she continued her stride, the home phone rang again. Still Melanie didn’t answer it. She wondered who it could be, especially with them calling back, and it wasn’t until the phone rang a third time that she paused the treadmill. She stepped off and ran to answer it, but when she saw her mother’s number she rolled her eyes.
“Hello?” she said, practically out of breath.
“Where are you?” her mother yelled. “I’ve been calling both your phones over and over.”
“I was on the treadmill, and my cell is upstairs.”
“Well, you need to get over to the hospital. Your dad was doubled over with chest pains, and I’m following him in the ambulance now.”
“Oh no. Which hospital?”
“Mitchell Memorial.”
“I’m on my way.”