When Tender is the Heart , livre ebook

Outskirts Press - Cyndee Melzow

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148 pages

English

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Set over four decades, When Tender is the Heart is a sensitive story about an autistic boy who longs to have a life like any normal child. And despite his good intentions when he becomes an adult, hardship is never far behind as he sets out to create a life for himself, establish relationships with others, and take on potential jobs. One day he will be forced to confront his painful childhood past head-on. But will his heart find the closure it’s been seeking for so long? When Tender is the Heart not only pushes us to think of our relationships with one another but also the affection we hold in our hearts for others. It encourages us to question if our hearts are truly at peace with our past as much as with the present. This deeply moving book will remind us all of how we can find love, forgiveness, and even grace from the people who have shaped our hearts and minds along our journey and, most importantly, within ourselves. When Tender is the Heart is filled with the spirit of love, forgiveness, and grace. It is sure to stay with you long after you have read it.

Sujets

Religion

Christianisme

Vie de famille

Santé familiale

Literary

Fiction

Informations

Publié par	Outskirts Press
Date de parution	06 janvier 2023
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781977260802
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0500€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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When Tender Is the Heart A Novel All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2023 Cyndee Melzow v2.0
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Outskirts Press, Inc. http://www.outskirtspress.com
ISBN: 978-1-9772-6080-2
Cover Image by James Philip, Yorkshire Wolds Weather @WeatherWolds
The Holy Bible Old and New Testament King James Version Copyright 1976 Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Outskirts Press and the "OP" logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
"Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him."

PSALM 127:3
T ABLE OF C ONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
CHAPTER SEVENTY
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
C HAPTER O NE
Sunday, October 10, 1976
The room is dark like night. There are many unknowns in the dark. Those unknowns cause fear. I don’t like fear. Right now, I feel as if fear is about to settle in right next to me, I flip the switch on the lamp.
Call out, "Mom."
There’s no answer.
Call out again, "Mom, where are you?"
The thick silence in the tiny apartment is clear evidence I’m alone again. This scene is becoming my new normal. At eight-years-old I feel helpless. Much like the abandoned old man down the street. He looks tired. He looks weathered from living a life on the street. I utter stupid words my mother uses when she gets mad at me. It does me no good. I feel so alone in my heart right now, but even more on the outside.
Take a deep breath. Hands fidget. Kick off the dirty blanket. Wipe face over and over. Try to rid myself of stupid tears spilling down my cheeks. Hate my life. Have no dad. Mom comes and goes at all hours. She has no regard for my wellbeing.
Sometimes she tells me, "Henry, you’re like the biggest mistake in my life. Why did I have you? Why?" The sadness seeps in. Leave the room. Close my eyes. Tears spill.

It’s taken my heart a lifetime to break free of those painful words.

Take a deep breath. Hands fidget. Stare down at shadows on the wall. Count lines on floor. Stretch my body. Hang my head over to look at my broken shoes. They smell. Shoes have holes. Way too big for my little feet. Unlike the previous pair of shoes, these are good. I can walk to school with no blisters.
Tuck strands of hair so I can keep my eyes fixed on the door. Fear someone will bust the door open and take me. If that happens, I’m doomed. I’m eight-years-old. I’m clearly no match for anyone two times my size.
Take a deep breath. Hands Fidget. Have to calm down. Be brave. Brave is good. Being brave can help me.
Sitting on sofa I think of Tony. I wish I could be like him so badly. He lives across the street in a yellow house just behind a giant tree. He has a mom. The dad, he lives there too. He fixes everything. They live in the same house as Tony and his sister, Becky. How lucky is that? Sometimes I watch him and Becky play on the grass with their toys. See them too when they push each other on the swings. He eats small sausages with red sauce. Anytime the sun shines hot outside, Tony and his family take a trip in his dad’s shiny convertible car. They return home when it gets dark. Laughing. Carrying shopping bags. They walk inside the house. I close the curtain.
Stupid tears are spilling again. Tears make me see blurry. Can’t see the door. Can’t see the door. Clean my face.

I’m tired of thinking about Tony and his great life. I need to think of my mom. My mom, I love her. With all my heart, I love her. She’s all I have. Don’t understand why she keeps failing me so miserably. Comes and goes whenever she wants. This afternoon, she walked out the door looking like she was going on one of her mysterious dates with the man in the red car.
I begged her to take me along.
"Can I go too?" I asked.
"No Henry, stay here." She said.
"I can put my shoes on."
She still said no.
"I promise I’ll be good."
She pushed me out of the way.
"Can I stay with the neighbor, then?"
She made a face. "There is no money to pay the neighbor."
I cried out, "The dark scares me!"
She tells me, "You’ll be fine."
"But please…" I cried.
"Henry, just stop. Listen to me. Lock the door, just like I showed you last time, and don’t open it."
My desperation set in. "What time are you coming back?"
"In a few hours."
"How long is that?"
The door slammed shut.
In anger, I kicked the door with my broken shoes. Ran to the window. Pulled the curtain. Watched as the red car disappeared into traffic.

I think it’s been more than a few hours now since my mom left. I know this because the birds outside the kitchen window are all gone. They go back to their hideaways when it gets dark. That’s when I go to sleep too. Tonight I can’t sleep. The rain is hitting the window. Cover my ears. Be brave. Be brave. Brave is good. Being brave can help me.
My emotions are running high. Fear doesn’t leave me alone. I’m angry right now. Feel like I need to hit something. Look around the room. Walls are dirty white. Paint peeling off. Crayon drawings are everywhere. Should hit walls with my fists. Think fast. Could get hurt. Who will help me? Never mind. Punch cushions with my left hand. That’s the hand I write with. Punch as hard as I can. Does me no good. Anger is still inside of me.
Where is she? Why is it taking her so long to return? How does she not understand I need her?
Move in circles around the tiny apartment. Count lines on floor again. Whispering into thin air. "I’m hungry. Mom, where are you? Mom, when are you coming back?" It’s no use. Have to figure out life on my own for the moment.
Go back to sit on the sofa. Scratch my head. Not sure what to do next. I wait. Wait some more. Wait for as long as I can without shedding more tears. They come anyway. Mom tells me crying is for babies. Need to buckle up. Need to act like a big man. A big man doesn’t cry. Doesn’t show weakness.

I’ve taken those words and tucked them away deep somewhere in my heart. I’ve tried over the years to be a big man. Be a man with a face who doesn’t show any emotion. Sometimes it works. Other times, not so much.

Pain suddenly hits the stomach. Pain feels like poking sticks. Curl up on the sofa. Squeeze stomach tightly. Maybe the pain will go away.

A while later pain is still there. Stomach needs food. Walk into the kitchen. It smells. Trash piled up in a corner. Trash in sink too. Cabinets are tall. Out of reach. I open the refrigerator instead. Bottles of mom’s favorite drink are neatly stacked on top shelf. Something wrapped in mushy foil. Gross. Leave it alone. Small carton of milk sits on another shelf. Smells weird and looks crusty. Push it away. Tall cabinets are there again. Have to reach them. Push chair to counter. Other than a couple of dead roaches, there isn’t much else except for open crackers. Strange color. Feel sticky. Waste no time. Savor each cracker. Take small bites. Chew crumbs in mouth over and over till they dissolve completely. No more pain. I’m ok now.
Take a deep breath. Hands Fidget. What to do next? Have no television like Tony. Sit on the floor next to the box. I keep belongings in the box. Scratch head. Look through the mess of stuff. Must find something to stay busy until mom returns.
Go fast cars. Wheels are broken. Push them aside.
Keep digging through a mess of stuff.
Pickup book. Pages marked with pencil scratches. Pages torn. Never mind. Shove it aside.
Don’t give up. Must find something.
Find a red ball. It’s small. Has good bounce. Throw against the wall over and over. It’s boring. Put it away.
Go back to sit on the sofa. Take a deep breath. Hands fidget. My mom is lost. Have to go find her. Eyes rest on the door again. Fear won’t leave me alone. Can’t open door.
Run to window. Pull curtain. Rain drops hitting window. Streetlight on the corner is casting shadows on cars. People are inside now. Love must be wit