Point Un-Pleasant

The Broken Trigger

• Short story
• Non-Fiction

								
I grew up in a small, country town at the confluence of the Ohio and Kanawha Rivers. That is where George Washington stood and referred to it as “pleasant” and the name “Point Pleasant” became the town’s official name.

Like most families, during that time, my dad worked hard to support us and my mom was a “stay at home” mother. I never wanted for nothing.

When I was in Junior High School, my dad bought a large, beautiful parcel of land outside of town. He cleared the land himself so we could build our new home. Some of my fondest memories are from that time period. We spent a lot of weekends sawing down trees and enjoying the massive brush fires.

Our home had a large living room window. The country views were spectacular. There were majestic rolling hills, an abundance of wildlife and on a clear night you could star gaze for hours in the unpolluted sky. Above our mantle, we had an unloaded shotgun that belonged to my deceased great-grandfather. We weren’t hunters or gun collectors. The gun was a sentimental item passed down through the family.

The only neighbors lived half a mile down the gravel road. They had a daughter close to my age, and we became friends. We would occasionally ride bikes together. After a few years, her home burnt down. They hired my dad to build a cabin for them on their property.

Years later, I would end up owning the cabin but that's for another happier story.

After the cabin was built, the neighbor accused my dad of inadequate work which turned into an ugly dispute but resolved itself rather quickly. My Dad ignored the neighbor after that and went on about his business.

However, my mom started harassing the neighbor when she thought no one was around. My mom was the type of person who would lie just to lie. A classic compulsive liar, who would get angry when someone confronted her.

From our living room window, you could observe any vehicle traveling on the gravel road. One day, my mom saw the neighbor’s truck driving past our home. She clearly thought she was the only one at home; however, I was in the kitchen watching and saw what happened next.

She took the shotgun from the mantle and walked out in the front yard. She stood with the gun up over her head and started yelling at him.

Later, the police called my parents to inform them the neighbor filed a complaint against my mom. My dad was oblivious to what occurred that day.

While alone with my mom in the dining room, she told me the neighbor was accusing her of holding up a gun while he drove by. I informed her I saw her do it. Her face changed from calm to shock. She then angrily said…"you are to NEVER repeat that." She scared me so I did as she said.

Dad drove mom to the police station where they arrested her and went over the charges. I’m not sure what happened with the charges. The criminal part of the case was never mentioned again.

When they arrived back home, she took me aside and told me the neighbor told the police that she took a pistol and held it to his head. I believed her but found out later it was her way of manipulating me. Not much else was said until the neighbor filed a civil case against my mom.

In the evenings, sometimes my aunt and uncle would drive out to visit us. I’d take walks down the road with my mom and aunt. One evening while we were walking, I turned around and headed back to the house. My mom and aunt continued to walk. The neighbor drove past me in his truck. I knew he would be approaching my mom and aunt. I turned around and watched. They both bent over and pretended to tie their shoes for probably 15 minutes to block him from driving past. 

The neighbor was always nice to me. I remember my dad screaming at me for saying something about the neighbor being friendly. I never mentioned his name again.

When it came time for the civil trial, I was in college but still able to attend. The neighbor and his daughter, were the only people I remember seeing on the opposing side of the courtroom.

My mom’s attorney called character witnesses. There were people from Church, my aunt and some friends. Thankfully, I was not called because I would’ve been expected to lie.

While sitting in the courtroom and listening to the opening statements, the details of the case finally came out. The REAL details. The ones where my mom was being accused of holding up the shotgun, as the neighbor drove by. I realized, at that moment, the story she told me about being accused of holding a pistol to his head, was to trick me into thinking the neighbor was lying and to keep me from speaking up. I couldn’t believe all the lies spilling forth in the courtroom that day. All because of one manipulative, deceitful, lying woman. My mom. 

When my aunt was on the stand, they questioned her about tying their shoes for 15 minutes to block my neighbor. She laughed and said…"I don’t even keep the shoelaces in my shoes because I like to slip them on." The jury and people in the audience all laughed. All I could do was sit there thinking how horrible her lie was.

When my mom was on the stand, they asked her about the shotgun. She denied everything, mustered up a couple fake tears and said that the gun didn’t work. She said “the thing you pull to shoot the bullet was broke.”

Her attorney looked at the jury and said “she doesn’t even know it’s called a trigger. That’s how little she knows about guns.” He convinced them there’s no way she did what she was accused of. She played everyone perfectly by portraying herself as an innocent, timid woman who was loved by everyone.

My mom and aunt made my neighbor look like a fool…yet I was the only person besides them who knew the truth. The jury voted in favor of my mom. After the verdict was read, I remember walking down the courthouse steps and seeing my neighbor and his daughter standing beside his truck. My heart broke for them.

Over 25 years passed before I ever told anyone the truth. It was a few years before my dad passed away when I told him. I’m not sure if he completely believed me nor did he seem to care.

By now, over 30 years had gone by. I located the neighbor’s daughter on social media. I reached out to her and told her the truth about what happened. I explained everything to her and why I had kept my silence. I apologized and told her that if I was in her position, I would want to know the truth.

I expected her to respond negatively. Thankfully, her response made me tear up. She was kind, thankful and understanding. I felt such relief.

Living with a compulsive liar will teach you how to master the evil act or teach you to refrain from such a vile behavior.

My mom is still alive and the lies continue. I choose to no longer be involved in her life. 

THE END 

 
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes