My girlfriend’s parents tortured me and called me a fake human
The Dinner and the Revelation
My girlfriend’s parents tortured me and called me a fake human all because of my prosthetic leg. But then they found out how I lost my real leg and now they won’t even look me in the eye.
I adjusted my prosthetic and rang the doorbell at Grace’s parents house, hoping they wouldn’t write me off as not good enough just because of my fake leg.
Her father, Robert, opened the door and his eyes went straight to where my left leg should be, his face shifting to obvious disgust.
Her mother, Janet, appeared behind him and actually recoiled when she saw my cane, stepping back like disability was contagious.
Grace squeezed my hand, but Robert was already blocking the doorway sarcastically, asking if they needed to install a ramp like they were running a nursing home.
Janet ushered us into the living room where they’d removed all the comfortable chairs, leaving only a deep couch I’d struggle to get out of.
Robert commented, “We were hoping Grace learned her lesson after her last ex, but apparently she has a type. broken things she thinks she can fix.”
Grace’s face went red. But before she could respond, Janet asked what I did for work.
When I mentioned my disability benefits while I was in vocational training, Robert laughed, saying, “So, you’re a welfare queen. Our daughter is dating someone who steals our tax dollars to sit at home.”
Janet added that her hairdresser’s son lost both legs and still managed to run a business, so what was my excuse for being a parasite?
When Grace started to explain, I touched her arm and quietly said.
“Let’s just change the subject. It’s fine because I didn’t want to get into the story about the IED.”
During dinner, Janet served everyone except me, saying she assumed I had someone who fed me at home.
Robert cut my meat without asking, then moved my plate closer like I was a toddler in a high chair, narrating each action slowly and loudly.
When I reached for my water, he grabbed my wrist and said, “Careful, that’s crystal. Probably costs more than your monthly government check.”
He then turned to Grace and asked if she really wanted to spend her life as a caregiver.
Robert started describing his friend’s daughter who’d married a man in a wheelchair and how she’d become dead inside from the constant burden.
Janet nodded vigorously, adding that Grace would end up changing his diapers by 40. And did she really want to waste her youth on someone who probably couldn’t even get it up anymore?
Then Janet leaned over and grabbed my face, turning it toward the light and examining me like livestock, saying my skin looked gray and asking if I had some terminal illness they should know about.
Robert said, “Grace, remember when Princess Diana did charity work with landmine victims? That was nice of her, but she didn’t take them home.”
When Grace told them to stop, Janet said she was being realistic about what happens when the novelty of playing nurse wears off and you’re stuck with dead weight.
Robert asked point blank how I’d lost my leg. And before I could deflect, he said, “Probably drunk driving or something equally stupid that you don’t want to admit.”
“I just said it was complicated and I’d rather not discuss it.”
While Janet speculated loudly that it was probably a drug deal gone wrong, she actually pulled Grace into the kitchen where I could still hear her saying, “He’s going to be in a wheelchair within 5 years, then dead by 50, and you’ll have wasted your best years.”
I struggled to stand up from the couch and Robert filmed me with his phone, saying he was documenting what Grace would deal with every day.
Janet returned and dumped my cane in the trash, saying.
“Oops, thought that was garbage like everything else you brought into our home.”
Robert grabbed my prosthetic leg through my pants and yanked on it, asking if it was even real.
He said, “Grace, sweetheart, you could have any man you want. Why are you settling for 3/4 of a person?”
Janet added that she’d rather Grace be a lesbian. At least then they could lie to their friends about who she’s dating.
That’s when the front door opened and someone called out, “Sorry I’m late.”
A young man in his 20s walked into the dining room and stopped dead when he saw me.
I recognized Ethan instantly and my whole body started shaking. Me and Ethan had served in Iran together.
“Oh my god,” he whispered, his tears already falling. “This is him. This is the man who saved my life,” he turned to his parents. “How did you find him? Did you invite him over to thank him personally?”
He started explaining that I was the lieutenant who went back into the kill zone after the IED tore my leg off to save the lives of my brothers. I was the hero from the story he’d told them a thousand times.
Robert’s phone crashed to the floor while Janet’s hand flew to her mouth.
Have they been treating you well?
Ethan asked me in regards to his parents. I stared at Ethan for what felt like forever while Robert’s phone stayed on the floor and Janet’s hand stayed frozen at her mouth.
My throat felt tight and I couldn’t make words come out. Grace’s hand gripped mine harder and she stood up from the couch.
They’ve been treating him like garbage, she said, her voice shaking.
She pointed at the trash can where my cane stuck out. Your mom threw his cane in there and called it garbage.
Her face turned red as she kept going. Your dad grabbed his prosthetic leg through his pants and yanked on it.
She was crying now, but kept talking. They called him 3/4 of a person and said I should be ashamed of dating him.
Ethan’s eyes went wide, and he turned to look at his parents. His mouth opened and closed like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He looked back at me, then at his parents again.
“Is this true?” His voice cracked when he asked it.
Robert started to say something, but stopped. Janet’s hand finally dropped from her mouth.
“Mom, Dad, is this true?” Ethan asked louder this time. “Did you really do these things to him?”
His whole body was shaking now. This man lost his leg saving my life, and you treated him like this.
I pushed myself up from the deep couch, my good leg doing most of the work. My hands were shaking as I reached for the trash can and pulled out my cane.
The metal was cold and had food stuck to it from being in the garbage. I wiped it on my pants and leaned on it.
“I need to go,” I said quietly.
Robert opened his mouth to speak, but Ethan put his hand up to stop him. I started walking toward the door, trying to keep my head up, even though my whole body felt heavy.
Grace grabbed her purse and followed me. My prosthetic made its usual clicking sound against the hardwood floor.
I heard Ethan’s voice getting louder, but I couldn’t make out the words. The front door felt heavier than before when I pulled it open.
The cool air hit my face, and I took a deep breath. My hands were still shaking as I made my way down the front steps, gripping the railing tight.
Grace’s car was parked in the driveway, and I headed for it. Footsteps ran up behind me, and I turned to see Ethan coming after us.
His face was red and tears ran down his cheeks.
“Wait, please wait,” he said.
He stopped in front of me and wiped his face with his sleeve.
I’m so sorry about my parents.
His voice broke again.
I can’t believe they did this to you after everything.
He grabbed my shoulders gently.
You saved my life and they treated you like that.
He was crying harder now.
I owe you everything and they he couldn’t finish the sentence. Is there anything I can do? Anything at all to make this right?
I shook my head because there wasn’t really anything he could do.
It’s not your fault, I told him.
He hugged me then, careful not to knock me off balance.
I’m going to talk to them, he said when he pulled back. This isn’t okay.
Grace had already started the car and I got in the passenger seat. Ethan stood in the driveway watching as we pulled away.
Grace drove without saying anything for a long time. Her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard.
We hit a red light and she finally broke down. Tears streamed down her face and her shoulders shook.
“I’m so ashamed,” she said between sobs. They’re my parents and they did that to you.
She hit the steering wheel with her palm.
How could they be so cruel?
The light turned green, but she didn’t move right away. A car behind us honked and she drove forward, still crying.
I don’t know how to process this, she said.
They’ve always been difficult, but this was something else. She pulled into a parking lot and stopped the car.
I’m so sorry, she kept saying over and over.
We sat there for 20 minutes while she cried. When we finally got home, I went straight to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub.
My hands were still shaking as I rolled up my pant leg to check my prosthetic. The socket felt loose from Robert yanking on it, and I had to readjust the straps.
That night, the phantom pain hit hard. It always got worse when I was stressed, but this was bad, even for me.
The missing part of my leg burned and achd like it was still there getting blown apart. I kept seeing the IED flash in my mind, mixed with Robert’s face when he grabbed my prosthetic.
