The Better Way
A father's gentle handling of a troubled daughter.
1.
It is amazing sometimes how things work in this unpredictable world in which we live. Events, good or bad, can happen on the spur of the moment when you least expect them and can often change not only the direction of your life, but the lives of those around you. These thoughts were the farthest thing from my mind early one morning several years ago when the telephone rang and woke me from a deep sleep.
"Mr. Newton?"
"Yes?"
"This is Sgt. Blackwell at the Longview Police Station. We have your daughter in custody. Would you come down and see me, please?" This was more of an order than a question. I know, because I knew Sgt. Blackwell and the other officers on the small Longview PD quite well. Meredith was no stranger to trouble and the local cops.
Meredith, fifteen years old then, was a pretty girl, big but not fat. Somewhat overly developed for her age, she could easily pass for twenty and often did. Blonde and blue-eyed with a lovely complexion, she had begun to model part-time that summer. She also hung around with twenty-one to twenty-two year old men. I worried quite a bit but didn't know what to do about it. I couldn't control her.
Sighing, I answered, "Be there shortly."
After hastily dressing and making the short journey, I entered the small police station, located only a few blocks from our home. It was less than one year old and still looked and smelled new. Sgt. Blackwell sat at the duty desk and greeted me when he saw me. "Hello, Mr. Newton." He did not smile, but neither did he appear to be angry.
"Hello, Charlie," I replied, as we shook hands. "What's up?"
"We have Meredith and Tiffany Smith here for shoplifting. They got caught by security at Wal-Mart about an hour ago." The Longview Wal-Mart stayed open twenty-four hours a day.
Meredith had shoplifting and curfew violation charges against her in Valley View Juvenile Court. Thank God for small favors; at least that was another county and jurisdiction. I knew what Charlie would say next, but I asked anyway, "OK. Now what?"
"You take her home and appear with her in county juvenile court on the day this ticket says to appear." That day would be approximately three weeks away. Longview sat in a semi-rural county, but still the juvenile courts ran behind. A sad sign of our times, I thought, as Charlie handed me the ticket and went to get Meredith.
We said our awkward goodbyes to Charlie Blackwell and headed out the door. Meredith had been nervous in his presence; not entirely a bad thing. Sgt. Charles Blackwell had a reputation as a tough but fair law officer in Longview, one who could be very harsh with kids who do wrong.
We said nothing to each during the short walk to my car. As I backed out of the space and shifted into drive, Meredith suddenly, and unexpectedly, said to me, "Dad, I'm sorry."
This stunned me for the simple reason that I had never known Meredith to apologize to anyone for anything, certainly not to me. I didn't know how to respond but I knew I'd
better say something before losing the mood. "Let's get a cup of coffee," I said, mainly for lack of anything better to say.
Meredith, in many ways older than her years, was no stranger to late night coffee shops. It did surprise her to have Dad suggest something like coffee right now instead of heading home for the usual lecture. With a quizzical look on her face, she answered, "OK."
We went to an all-night truck stop out on the highway. Pete's was clean and not too crowded. As we walked in, I wondered for a moment why the few customers there stared at us, and then I understood: an older man walking in with a pretty young girl at 1:20 in the morning. No one assumed we were father and daughter - another sad commentary on our times.
We sat and ordered coffee. I asked Meredith if she was hungry and she shook her head no. The waitress delivered our cups and we suffered an uncomfortable silence. Meredith was waiting for me to speak, but I didn't know what to say. Finally I asked her about Tiffany. "Anybody coming to get her?"
"Yeah, her Mom's coming. Surprised we didn't see her."
"Think Pam will beat her?"
"She usually does," Meredith replied, dryly.
"Well, I appreciate your apology, Mere." I was leaning back. Meredith had reached out to me and I was feeling my way along, hoping I could get her to open up further. I felt as if I were back on mine sweep detail in Vietnam. I chuckled to myself when I realized that I had compared my teenage daughter to a minefield. As I look back on that night years ago I appreciate the similarities more fully.
"At least you never beat me."
I knew that many of her friends came from broken homes and abusive parents. Though Meredith's mother, Jean, had died several years ago, we were not a broken home. Meredith's older brother, Curtis, was a twenty-seven year old attorney with a new wife of his own. But Jean had not succumbed to the staph infection which invaded her heart muscle until shortly after his twenty-first birthday. Meredith had been motherless since the age of nine.
"We don't operate that way in our family, Mere."
"Why?"
That question may as well have been a kick in the groin. I envisioned her kicking me as hard as she could with her army combat boots on. I never could understand why kids liked those things. I spent years trying to get away from them, but I attempted to answer her as well as I could. "Believe it or not, that sort of thing is not the norm. If I have something to say, I use my mouth. Not my fists."
"My friends wonder why I'm not beat up all the time."
I looked at her for several moments then. I saw a pretty girl who wore dirty clothes and did not groom unless she prepared for a modeling job. I saw a girl who did not eat right and smoked too much. I saw a girl whose friends and boyfriends were much too old for her. Finally, I saw a girl who had a dad who was trying to be both mother and father to her and wondered how good a job he was doing being either.
But, I also looked at a girl who was talking, not pouting and had apologized for her behavior. I wanted desperately to say something eloquent and profound, but the words would not come. I stammered like a boy her age asking for a date. Finally I just started talking. "Mere, there's just a better way. A better way for family members to treat each other. A better way to live your life. A better way to get along with me. A better way to have fun with friends and classmates at school. When you model, you get prepared and are ready when the photographer starts taking pictures. That's an example of a better way. There's just a better way to do things."
I couldn't think of anything more to say. When I remember my little speech that night, it seems disjointed and forced. I felt like a small child who had babbled something nonsensical to an adult. I hoped I hadn't sounded foolish to her, but was certain I had.
Meredith smiled thinly at me after I finished talking but said nothing. We drank our coffee and left for home. Neither of us had anything more to say that night.
2.
As I said, all of this happened a number of years ago. Meredith is grown now and still modeling. She married for a time and has a young son of her own as a result. I feel that my clumsy attempt to say something meaningful and noble on that occasion somehow worked. Meredith began to turn her life around after being arrested that night, and her attitude began to change, though I didn't notice it at the time. Slowly, she began to dress and groom herself better, even when not modeling. There were fewer older boyfriends and she seemed more at ease with me. And, most importantly, there was no more trouble with the law.
None of this means that we had no more problems. Meredith got off pretty light on the first shoplifting charge, receiving a ninety-day suspended sentence with no juvenile detention or community service, but not so lucky the second time. She and Tiffany received one-hundred-twenty days in the county juvenile home with one-hundred-ten of those days suspended, and ten hours community service cleaning restrooms and mopping floors at the county courthouse.
By the time Meredith became a senior, her grades had improved but she was still a regular in the after school/before school detention club, though most of her problems were now caused by tardiness and cigarette smoking; not rudeness to teachers. Attending summer school enabled her to graduate with her class. During this time she could not
drive, as she had her license suspended because of too many speeding tickets. I realize now that she cleaned up her act as far as drinking and smoking marijuana went before her sixteenth birthday. After getting caught with a can of beer in her purse at school shortly after our early morning coffee chat, drugs ceased to be a problem with her. I'm grateful now that she addressed that problem before starting to drive.
We had a good but still cool relationship until her last year of college. She attended school here, so she lived at home during this time. She made decent, if not spectacular grades and continued to model part time. And she got engaged.
During the first semester of her senior year, she lost two of her old high school chums to drug overdoses. She seemed to open up more after this happened, and she finally began to realize her potential in the classroom. Her GPA was 3.60 for her senior year. Maturity had come slowly and with cost, but come it had.
Meredith lost weight and started paying serious attention to her diet and personal habits after graduation. A two pack a day smoker for years, she quit cold turkey. Thinner now, she has prominent but pleasing facial features to go along with that wonderful complexion. You have probably seen her if you read magazines. She has been on the cover of several and has done many print ads. She is now beginning to do television commercials and has received her first acting assignment; a bit part in a new sitcom to debut this fall. I am very proud of her. I wish I could see her more, but I suppose most parents feel that way.
Remember I mentioned earlier that I am confident my hasty little speech somehow worked? I went for many years wondering about that. But, there are times in one's life, if one is lucky, when things fall together and something is right. These moments are few
but well worth the wait. I had such a moment last Father's Day.
I received a card from Meredith several days before the Day. Working in New York, I knew she wouldn't be home. But, the card had a message. In Meredith's handwriting, it read:
Dad, have a happy day.
Thanks for telling me about the better way.
Love, Mere
I'm usually pretty good at expressing myself but I can't tell you what this meant to me. What it continues to mean, and what it always will mean to me. Those three short lines have changed my life. I am grateful.
Meredith called that Father's Day. I didn't expect her to, as she never had. She's not much of a talker and it surprised me to hear her voice when I answered the telephone.
"Dad?" She asked.
"Yeah. Hi, Mere."
"How you doing?"
"Fine," I replied, at a loss for words not unlike our coffee shop conversation so long ago.
"Good. Happy Father's Day."
"Thanks, Mere."
"Get my card?"
"Sure did."
For a moment, I thought the connection had broken or she stepped away from the phone. Just as I started to reply, she said, very softly, "Thanks again, Dad."
As I say, eloquence is not my long suit. I simply smiled to myself and answered, "You're welcome, Mere."