Play & Book Excerpts
Redeemed
(She Writes Press)
© Penny Lane
On the night of the Merrill Lynch Christmas party at the Coppola Winery, I decided to throw caution to the wind. “Charles,” I said to my boyfriend of three years, “let’s quit our jobs and travel the world for a year.”
A year later, off we went. After four months abroad, we found ourselves on the East Coast, at a huge pool party at my cousin’s place in Connecticut. The whole clan was there, giving Charles a chance to meet the rest of my family. At the drink cooler, I bumped into my brother.
“Hey, Steven, how are you?”
It was my first time seeing him since Charles and I had left on our trip. Our only communication had been emails when I could find Internet service, still rare in most parts of the world. I hugged Steven fiercely. Despite our differences, I loved my brother dearly, and kept hoping that his off-putting antics were just part of his grief.
“Hey, world traveler,” he hugged me back.
We chatted for a moment as I bent over the huge cooler looking for a craft beer, which Charles and I favored back home. No one we knew drank Budweiser or Coors, which was all I could see. Fortunately, I found a Sierra Nevada hidden in the bottom and grabbed it.
“Ooh, good,” I said, “this will work.”
Steven stared at me and laughed slightly. But he was not amused.
“Penny, you barely drink. Why are you giving that to your boyfriend? You should give it to me.”
His sneering tone made me ill at ease. The last thing I wanted was for him to start a scene, so I plotted a quick exit strategy.
“Charles and I will share this one, “I offered. “I’m sure there’s another one in there. Have a good time.”
And with that, I walked away to make the rounds with Charles.
Seeing all my relatives reminded me how far I had come since joining the bike club a few years earlier. I was less fearful than the tortured soul who had left the church. I graduated from college with a business degree. Contrary to my stepmother’s denouncements, I had earned straight A’s. Merrill Lynch had hired me as a sales assistant, and I had done multimillion-dollar trades, a far cry from being a waitress at International House of Pancakes. More important, everything I was doing was because I had decided to, not to please my stepmother, the church or anyone else.
Yet if I were being honest, Steven still had an uncanny ability to put a damper on everything I had achieved. Like my stepmother, he had this hold over me that I could not quite explain. My past, it seemed, was never really past. It always lurked in the shadows.
Despite my brother's best efforts, I soldiered forward. Charles and I had grown closer and fallen in love, ironing out the differences that my damaged family history and his reserved culture had brought out in us. He had convinced me it was time to live together, something I had been petrified to do because of my divorce. We were moving forward together. We got engaged.
Charles and I called my siblings and friends back home to announce our engagement. We promised to celebrate in person when we finished our travels and returned to San Francisco. My girlfriends were ecstatic, wanting every detail. Steven and my family barely said a word.
We discussed what kind of wedding we wanted. Neither of us had much money, and weddings were expensive. Charles suggested that we elope to Las Vegas. But this was a big deal for me, so there is no way I was going to elope. I had earned this. I wanted to celebrate it with all our friends. “OK, I agree,” he said. “But if we have a wedding, we have to start planning it right away.”
When I had gotten married the first time at age eighteen, I had been too immature and too influenced by the church to make an informed, wholehearted decision. I had lived with the shame of that decision, and its aftermath, for years. This time around, I wanted to get it right, thereby overcoming, and healing that part of my past.
I was not motivated by fear or loneliness but was in this relationship with my whole heart and mind, for all the right reasons. Finding Charles was something to celebrate. We agreed that as soon as we got home, I would call our friends James and Ronny to ask for wedding planning assistance. James was a chef and restaurateur and was well connected in the industry.
After nine months of travel, we finally returned to our little apartment. I called James and Ronny right away. They would come over the next evening, after securing a promise that I’d cook up some Hungarian food that James loved. I was making töltött káposzta, stuffed cabbage. I decided to invite my brother and make a party of it. I called him next.
“Hey Steven! We’re home! We’re having James and Ronny over tomorrow to help plan our wedding, and I am making töltött káposzta. Do you want to come? We’d love to see you. “
Dead silence.
“Steven, are you there?”
“Yes, I am here, and no, I do not want to come over tomorrow,” he said icily.
“Why?” I wondered whether he was OK.
“Because I am offended that you would call James and Ronny before you called me.”
I had barely unpacked my bags, and he was starting already.
“And besides,” Steven scoffed, “I am still offended by what you did at the pool party.”
“The pool party?” I strained to think of what I could have done at the party.
“Yes, at the pool party. You gave your boyfriend the good beer instead of giving it to me. I haven’t forgotten that. And I am insulted that you called friends instead of me when you got home. I am your brother, and I deserve more than that.”
I held the phone to my ear in disbelief. In only a few seconds, my mood had transformed from euphoric to hurt and confused. It was a familiar pattern, but this time I felt something new: profound anger. Since coming to California with my broken life, I had strived to do everything right. I no longer depended on him or anyone else in the family for my well-being or happiness. I was fulfilling my own goals and getting married was my dream. Yet he had to dominate it. He had to squash it in service of his need for eminence.
Quite suddenly, as if I had stepped over a threshold, something in me changed. I could not let Steven steal the joy that I had earned. Otherwise, I would be forever in his thrall. In a microsecond, I felt a power ... a strength in my physical being. My soul shifted. I would never stand down to him, or anyone, ever again. I waited until Steven finished speaking.
“Are you done?” I asked with a new authority in my voice.
“Yes, I am done.”
I hung up the phone. We never spoke again.
A year later, off we went. After four months abroad, we found ourselves on the East Coast, at a huge pool party at my cousin’s place in Connecticut. The whole clan was there, giving Charles a chance to meet the rest of my family. At the drink cooler, I bumped into my brother.
“Hey, Steven, how are you?”
It was my first time seeing him since Charles and I had left on our trip. Our only communication had been emails when I could find Internet service, still rare in most parts of the world. I hugged Steven fiercely. Despite our differences, I loved my brother dearly, and kept hoping that his off-putting antics were just part of his grief.
“Hey, world traveler,” he hugged me back.
We chatted for a moment as I bent over the huge cooler looking for a craft beer, which Charles and I favored back home. No one we knew drank Budweiser or Coors, which was all I could see. Fortunately, I found a Sierra Nevada hidden in the bottom and grabbed it.
“Ooh, good,” I said, “this will work.”
Steven stared at me and laughed slightly. But he was not amused.
“Penny, you barely drink. Why are you giving that to your boyfriend? You should give it to me.”
His sneering tone made me ill at ease. The last thing I wanted was for him to start a scene, so I plotted a quick exit strategy.
“Charles and I will share this one, “I offered. “I’m sure there’s another one in there. Have a good time.”
And with that, I walked away to make the rounds with Charles.
Seeing all my relatives reminded me how far I had come since joining the bike club a few years earlier. I was less fearful than the tortured soul who had left the church. I graduated from college with a business degree. Contrary to my stepmother’s denouncements, I had earned straight A’s. Merrill Lynch had hired me as a sales assistant, and I had done multimillion-dollar trades, a far cry from being a waitress at International House of Pancakes. More important, everything I was doing was because I had decided to, not to please my stepmother, the church or anyone else.
Yet if I were being honest, Steven still had an uncanny ability to put a damper on everything I had achieved. Like my stepmother, he had this hold over me that I could not quite explain. My past, it seemed, was never really past. It always lurked in the shadows.
Despite my brother's best efforts, I soldiered forward. Charles and I had grown closer and fallen in love, ironing out the differences that my damaged family history and his reserved culture had brought out in us. He had convinced me it was time to live together, something I had been petrified to do because of my divorce. We were moving forward together. We got engaged.
Charles and I called my siblings and friends back home to announce our engagement. We promised to celebrate in person when we finished our travels and returned to San Francisco. My girlfriends were ecstatic, wanting every detail. Steven and my family barely said a word.
We discussed what kind of wedding we wanted. Neither of us had much money, and weddings were expensive. Charles suggested that we elope to Las Vegas. But this was a big deal for me, so there is no way I was going to elope. I had earned this. I wanted to celebrate it with all our friends. “OK, I agree,” he said. “But if we have a wedding, we have to start planning it right away.”
When I had gotten married the first time at age eighteen, I had been too immature and too influenced by the church to make an informed, wholehearted decision. I had lived with the shame of that decision, and its aftermath, for years. This time around, I wanted to get it right, thereby overcoming, and healing that part of my past.
I was not motivated by fear or loneliness but was in this relationship with my whole heart and mind, for all the right reasons. Finding Charles was something to celebrate. We agreed that as soon as we got home, I would call our friends James and Ronny to ask for wedding planning assistance. James was a chef and restaurateur and was well connected in the industry.
After nine months of travel, we finally returned to our little apartment. I called James and Ronny right away. They would come over the next evening, after securing a promise that I’d cook up some Hungarian food that James loved. I was making töltött káposzta, stuffed cabbage. I decided to invite my brother and make a party of it. I called him next.
“Hey Steven! We’re home! We’re having James and Ronny over tomorrow to help plan our wedding, and I am making töltött káposzta. Do you want to come? We’d love to see you. “
Dead silence.
“Steven, are you there?”
“Yes, I am here, and no, I do not want to come over tomorrow,” he said icily.
“Why?” I wondered whether he was OK.
“Because I am offended that you would call James and Ronny before you called me.”
I had barely unpacked my bags, and he was starting already.
“And besides,” Steven scoffed, “I am still offended by what you did at the pool party.”
“The pool party?” I strained to think of what I could have done at the party.
“Yes, at the pool party. You gave your boyfriend the good beer instead of giving it to me. I haven’t forgotten that. And I am insulted that you called friends instead of me when you got home. I am your brother, and I deserve more than that.”
I held the phone to my ear in disbelief. In only a few seconds, my mood had transformed from euphoric to hurt and confused. It was a familiar pattern, but this time I felt something new: profound anger. Since coming to California with my broken life, I had strived to do everything right. I no longer depended on him or anyone else in the family for my well-being or happiness. I was fulfilling my own goals and getting married was my dream. Yet he had to dominate it. He had to squash it in service of his need for eminence.
Quite suddenly, as if I had stepped over a threshold, something in me changed. I could not let Steven steal the joy that I had earned. Otherwise, I would be forever in his thrall. In a microsecond, I felt a power ... a strength in my physical being. My soul shifted. I would never stand down to him, or anyone, ever again. I waited until Steven finished speaking.
“Are you done?” I asked with a new authority in my voice.
“Yes, I am done.”
I hung up the phone. We never spoke again.
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Penny Lane is a writer, wife and mother with an insatiable passion for life and books. Originally from Jackson Heights, Queens, she loves being outdoors — cycling, hiking, traveling, and connecting to and inspiring people. She has a B.S. in business and management from the University of Phoenix and an M.A. in industrial/organizational psychology from Golden Gate University.
In her spare time, she helps underserved youth learn to read, apply to college, and find jobs once they graduate. She also volunteers for food pantries and other nonprofits near her home in Mill Valley, California. |
Photo Courtesy: Penny Lane
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