Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
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Thanksgiving twenty years ago was the last time I spoke to my brother. My mom, dad, and I drove from Dallas to San Francisco to visit my brother, sister-in-law, and one-year old niece. The first sign something was wrong was when my niece starting crawling to me and my sister-in-law would pick her up and hand her off to my mom. Later, my dad was holding her, but my mom needed him to do something else. He tried to hand Layla to me, but my sister-in-law practically ran across the room and took her from me. I finally asked her what the problem was, why she wouldn't let me hold or play with Layla. Everything went to shit after that.
She looked at me and said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
I scoffed. "Every time Layla has tried to come to me or I've tried to hold her, you have intercepted and handed her off to someone else."
When she went to deny this, my dad spoke up. "Everyone has noticed. What's the problem?"
She looked at my dad for almost a whole minute before mumbling, "Because I don't know."
I said, "You don't know what?"
She protectively held Layla to her chest and hissed, "I don't know that you don't have HIV or Hepatitis."
I lost my shit at that admission. "You dumb-fucking-cunt-whore-bitch! I'm not going to bleed on the fucking baby. Are you serious? You're fucking crazy."
My parents didn't try to back me up at all, they didn't want my sister-in-law to take away their time with Layla. I expected my brother to back me up or at least say something to help me out. He didn't say a word. He wouldn't even look at me.
With tears in my eyes and streaming down my cheeks, I asked, "Steve? Do you agree with her?"
Without looking up from the floor, he responded, "Maybe it would be best if you left for a bit."
"It's Thanksgiving Day. Where am supposed to go?" I looked around the room. My sister-in-law had her back to me. My mom was crying while my dad was hugging her. My brother wouldn't look up from the floor. Luckily, the hotel my parents and I were staying at was close enough to walk to. So, I turned and walked out the door, slamming it as hard as I could.
Later, when my parents finally showed up at the hotel, I told them I was done. I let them know I was not going to speak to my brother until he called me. I wasn't going to speak to my sister-in-law until I received an apology. I then told them I was heading home that night. I didn't want to stay in San Francisco only to spend all of my time in the hotel room alone.
My brother never called me. My parents and I didn't speak about what happened in San Francisco. They learned quickly to not mention my brother's or sister-in-law's names around me. Two years passed without a word from or about them. Finally, my parents brought them up only three times. Once to let me know my sister-in-law was pregnant again. A second time to let me know they were moving to San Antonio. Finally, nine months later, they brought up my brother's family for the last time.
When my parents let me know my nephew's name was Josiah David Robertson, I responded in a flat, unemotional voice, "I honestly don't care. They don't care about me enough to try to reconcile, so I don't care hearing anything about them. I don't want to know where they're living or moving to. I don't want to know the names of their kids. I don't want them knowing anything about me. If they want to know something, they can apologize and ask me. They are the ones denying their kids from a fucking awesome uncle. I'm sorry they will never know who I am, but I can't handle hearing anything about them.
"Steve was my best friend. He and spoke every day until he married her. Hell, she and I even got along at first. Remember, I drove from Houston to San Francisco with her and two cats to help her move since Steve couldn't get off work before his transfer. I don't know what happened between then and Thanksgiving two years ago, but they both destroyed any relationship they had with me. I'm better off without them in my life."
My parents never said another word about them. Christmas Days I spent alone because my parents would go down to see them for the holiday. At least they would spend Christmas Eve with me. Thanksgiving was never a family event for me again. I was upset with my parents for not standing up for me, but after a while, I saw things from their perspective. My crazy sister-in-law would've cut them out of their lives and they wanted to know their grandchildren.
So, for eighteen years, I never saw a picture nor heard any of their names. I overheard parts of conversations when I wasn't in the room about Layla being a soccer player and apparently a good one too, about Joe (thank the gods they didn't call him Josiah his whole life) playing baseball and basketball.
This past Christmas, my parents invited me over to spend Christmas Eve with them. I knew that meant they would be going to San Antonio on Christmas Day, or at least in the past that's what that meant.
As I left their house on Christmas Eve night, I said, "Y'all call me tomorrow and let me know y'all made it to San Antonio and if y'all are driving back the day after tomorrow. I would prefer y'all not since there's supposedly some bad weather coming in and it's going to freeze over."
My mother's response shocked the hell out of me. "We're not driving down there tomorrow. We'll just be driving up to Denton, so we'll only be in the car for an hour at most." Denton is a college town about forty miles north of Dallas. It also happens to be where I live.
I had to stop myself from completely losing my shit then and counted to ten before I responded. "Really? Did they move or something?"
"No, Layla is going to TWU (Texas Women's University) and Joe is starting next semester at UNT. Never mind, it doesn't matter, I know you don't want to hear about them."
"It's okay. But, just because they're both going to school in Denton doesn't mean they would be up here, they should both be off till the spring semester starts in January. Why are they up there?"
"Since Joe is starting in the spring, him and Layla got an apartment together. They got one about a mile from each campus. They're moving the kids into the apartment."
I then realized my parents were going to be within fifteen minutes of my house (Denton's not that big of town and you can get from one side to the other in less than twenty minutes) and I wouldn't see them on Christmas Day. That hurt a lot. More than them leaving me alone on Christmas Day in the past to go to San Antonio. I was about to have a major breakdown if I didn't get away from them immediately. I tried to hide my hurt the best I could.
"Oh, okay. Umm I gotta go. I have plans to spend the night at Kristi and Ben's (my best friend and her husband) and then spend all day tomorrow with them. I'll talk to y'all day after tomorrow. Bye."
I practically ran out the door before they could see my tears or catch the flat out lie I just told. Kristi and Ben were in Chicago visiting his family. I had no plans whatsoever. I made the twenty-minute drive from Carrollton to Denton in a daze of hurt and anger.
When I got to my house, I was so emotionally drained I decided to take a bath and go straight to bed, even though it was only 9:45 at night.
