I can sum up what happened next in 4 words~ I found my way.
Took some time, that's for sure. Over time I learned how to stand on my own two feet, financially and emotionally. A series of apartments and jobs and more chaos, but nothing compared to what I experienced in 1998. I learned later that there's some official list of the most stressful things a person can experience, and I had almost all of them hit me, all at the same time. I cannot believe I survived, mentally. But as it turns out, I was in God's hands all along.
The guy was in & out of my life for another year or two, it was a hard habit to break, for both of us. But we finally did it, and the last time we broke up, in 2000, I knew that was it. He took off and moved to be closer to his family. I grew stronger and stronger and over time I regained my self confidence and motivation, which had been virtually non-existent.
How should I end this? I could draw it out and tell you more. I could tell you about the woman he stayed with, she was a customer who had carpet installed by him, she was pretty and lived alone because her husband was in prison for accidental manslaughter. Her house was filled with plants and hanging beads and incense, and I was jealous. I went over there a few times, only to see my late brother's best friend sitting there on the couch beside her, they were all toking it up! He was like, ...."hey Amy..." I was like, ok, how weird is this. We were both busted. Up until that point, I was the clean-cut older sister of his best friend who would fix them pancakes. Now I was heading to the back bedroom with my guy. It was bizarre.
I got an apartment across town, only to be ran off by a stalking underwear thief. Went to stay with my dad, where a series of incredibly bad dates/boyfriends began. One after the next, like clockwork, steadily getting worse and worse until I came to the end of myself. I broke again, but this time it was good. I was in need of a good time out. But not without seeing the guy one last time, in '03. He flew me down there and I stayed the weekend. He had a new trailer, in the woods. A dog and a cat and a whole new outlook on life. It had been almost 4 years since we'd spoken or seen each other. It was good for both of us. We didn't do it to get back together. We did it to make amends and have some closure. We got it. We both acknowledged that it was a crazy time for both of us. We both apologized for hurting the other. I told him I was sorry for putting so much pressure on him to be more than what he was. He took me to the mall and bought me things, saying that he never was able to before, and he didn't want me to think of him as a bum. I saw his brother one last time, we shot some pool and laughed and all that good stuff. We made peace. And then we said goodbye.
Like an ember that dies out slowly, that's what we did. When I got back home, we talked on the phone a few times, he wanted to go to Cancun. I stopped and thought about everything. I put on my thinking cap, which hadn't been used in quite some time. I weighed my options. And I decided that for his sake as well as mine, we should say goodbye for good. I changed my number and cut that invisible cord that was still connected to my head and my heart. Finally, I was free.
I happen to know now that he's doing good. Looks happy. Living on the beach somewhere, surfing, doing his thing. I can only hope that the time we spent together somehow benefitted him as much as it did me. I gained so much. I learned how weak I really was. You never know until you're right smack-dab in the middle of the storm. You never know.
I've grown strong. Sometimes mean. Always impossible. I don't know who to blame. My dad? All my old boyfriends? Him? Me? My dog? You?
Who knows.
Just now as I was making a cup of tea, this memory came to mind: the shoe collage.
Yes. It was my idea of course, but before long everybody was involved. You know how sometimes you'll be driving along, and see a shoe on the side of the road? For no reason? Do you ever wonder how it got there, and where it's mate was? I always wonder. I think, did somebody get mad and toss it out the window, or did a kid throw it out? Or did it fly out of the back of a truck, accidentally?
One day he & I were out driving somewhere, back when we lived at the trailer. There was an old shoe on the side of the road, which led me to think about all of the above. I told him my thoughts on it, and he agreed with me, that shoes that are abandoned on the side of the road are a mystery indeed. And that's when I got the idea: we could make a collage! From here on out, whenever we saw a shoe on the road, we'd stop and get it. He said that sounded good. When we got back to the trailer, he pulled a big piece of plywood out of the van, laid it on the ground, and got a thing of rubber cement. It was his idea to glue the shoe down wherever it landed after being blindly tossed onto the board. He had my daughter do the honors, with the first shoe. An old dirty stinky shoe. It was great. My kid laughed as she tossed it, it tumbled and landed on the board, and he glued it down right there. The collection grew fast. Everybody got involved, they said we were nuts, but for some reason more and more people were bringing us shoes and boots, the only rule was, it had to have been found on a road.
Before long we had the board covered. It was never finished. I envisioned the whole thing covered so much that it was like a pile, then, I was going to cover the whole thing in white paint and gloss it. Imagine that. A real study in texture if there ever was one. Sadly, the board with glued-on shoes was left behind at my dad's, and along with the convict's bed, it was never seen again.
Friday, September 14, 2007
piece 29
I started painting. Hadn't done any art in years, and now, suddenly, it was all I could think about. I got a canvas and some paints, had an idea, dipped the brush into the color and then it happened- a drip fell onto the canvas. I looked at the drip. It was in the shape of a fish, and the colors swirled. I tried it again, this time with better aim, and whatttya know, my "fish paintings" were born. An accidental hit. Everybody loved them. My grandmother ended up hijacking about 5 of them and entering them into an art show in east Texas, they won. All of them. First, second, third, fourth place, and last but not least, "citizen's favorite", whatever that meant. I thought it was hillarious. The whole thing. Of course I'd win at an art show accidentally, that could never happen intentionally. Story of my life.
I was consumed with painting. My guy got a job laying carpet in a nearby town. Get this: he had to put his old beat-up van on MY insurance, therefore, for some reason, the title was signed over to me, for reasons I still don't understand. I can now say, that for a few months in '99, I was the proud owner of an old messed-up, smoking, loud and rumbling van from, oh, say 1867. I never even touched the thing. It sat outside in the driveway with rolls of old carpet sticking out, right beside my dad's van.
My guy rearranged the upstairs to his liking, I admit it was pretty nice. He got a playstation and showed me all the games. He took his camcorder and somehow set it up with his stereo and my old home videos of my daughter and set them to music. My dad put him to work. He re did the carpet in the downstairs bathroom, re tiled the upstairs bathroom, and went along the outside base of the house after my dad had the foundation repaired, he put up some kind of wood trim that closed it all in, since it was a pier and beam foundation. Other things too, my dad worked him to death. I thought it was funny.
We'd sit up on the small landing of the outside stairs each morning, drinking coffee, him smoking, me starting to like life just a little bit more. Those cold mornings with him were nice. Sort of like the walks on the beach. Seems like when we were outside together, everything was peaceful. I think it calmed his nerves.
I asked him one time, "what's it like to be you?" He said, "it's confusing." I believe him. He was a very confused person. All things considered, I think he was getting by just fine in life. I bet he would have been better off if he & I would not have met, looking back. I used to tell myself I influenced him for the better. No, now I see things way differently. People are better off alone when crisis hits. For real. The time period following a separation and a divorce should be spent alone. Friends and family are good, a new relationship is not so good. Now I know.
I had no idea what we were doing, neither did he. More talk of marriage, but more fights. Now I felt responsible for his well being, since he was staying with me. I felt that now I had start thinking, quick. I tried. I tried to make a plan, but nothing was within our reach. He had no clue what he was doing either. He said he was glad to be away from his town, but he didn't know what to do from here.
More fighting, more discussions that led nowhere. One day we had another huge blowout. We broke up. He took off. I had no idea where he went, nor did I want to know.
I took in a big sigh of relief. I put all my focus back on my daughter, where it belonged. I missed him, but knew it was for the best.
Oh don't get me wrong, it was far from over. But at this point in time, I had a few months to myself. Time to think.
I was consumed with painting. My guy got a job laying carpet in a nearby town. Get this: he had to put his old beat-up van on MY insurance, therefore, for some reason, the title was signed over to me, for reasons I still don't understand. I can now say, that for a few months in '99, I was the proud owner of an old messed-up, smoking, loud and rumbling van from, oh, say 1867. I never even touched the thing. It sat outside in the driveway with rolls of old carpet sticking out, right beside my dad's van.
My guy rearranged the upstairs to his liking, I admit it was pretty nice. He got a playstation and showed me all the games. He took his camcorder and somehow set it up with his stereo and my old home videos of my daughter and set them to music. My dad put him to work. He re did the carpet in the downstairs bathroom, re tiled the upstairs bathroom, and went along the outside base of the house after my dad had the foundation repaired, he put up some kind of wood trim that closed it all in, since it was a pier and beam foundation. Other things too, my dad worked him to death. I thought it was funny.
We'd sit up on the small landing of the outside stairs each morning, drinking coffee, him smoking, me starting to like life just a little bit more. Those cold mornings with him were nice. Sort of like the walks on the beach. Seems like when we were outside together, everything was peaceful. I think it calmed his nerves.
I asked him one time, "what's it like to be you?" He said, "it's confusing." I believe him. He was a very confused person. All things considered, I think he was getting by just fine in life. I bet he would have been better off if he & I would not have met, looking back. I used to tell myself I influenced him for the better. No, now I see things way differently. People are better off alone when crisis hits. For real. The time period following a separation and a divorce should be spent alone. Friends and family are good, a new relationship is not so good. Now I know.
I had no idea what we were doing, neither did he. More talk of marriage, but more fights. Now I felt responsible for his well being, since he was staying with me. I felt that now I had start thinking, quick. I tried. I tried to make a plan, but nothing was within our reach. He had no clue what he was doing either. He said he was glad to be away from his town, but he didn't know what to do from here.
More fighting, more discussions that led nowhere. One day we had another huge blowout. We broke up. He took off. I had no idea where he went, nor did I want to know.
I took in a big sigh of relief. I put all my focus back on my daughter, where it belonged. I missed him, but knew it was for the best.
Oh don't get me wrong, it was far from over. But at this point in time, I had a few months to myself. Time to think.
piece 28
It didn't take long to get settled back into my dad's house. I got a job at a nearby health food store, my daughter was safely squared away in her school, things seemed to be getting a little better between her dad & I. For a while there we couldn't even have a normal conversation at all, it always ended up in an argument. Things were looking up.
I continued to see him. About a month after I had left the trailer, I went out there again & stayed the night. We sat up talking. We talked about his life and where he was headed. I told him he needed a change. We both got the idea at the same time: maybe he could rent a room out from my dad.
He did. He took the upstairs, what used to be my dad's gambling room.
...and so began a whole new chapter.
I continued to see him. About a month after I had left the trailer, I went out there again & stayed the night. We sat up talking. We talked about his life and where he was headed. I told him he needed a change. We both got the idea at the same time: maybe he could rent a room out from my dad.
He did. He took the upstairs, what used to be my dad's gambling room.
...and so began a whole new chapter.
piece 27
I went back out there either that night or the next day to get the rest of my things and to face him and tell him what was going on. Needless to say he was furious, but it was already a done deal and he knew it, so the argument was short and sweet. I told him he should also consider moving on, that a change might do him good.
While I was there, the friend said "man Amy you didn't have to make that mess in the bathroom..." or something like that. I had no idea what he was talking about. Then my guy started laughing and said something like I shouldn't even try to pretend it wasn't me. What were these guys talking about? I went into the bathroom. There was broken glass pieces, everywhere. Tiny pieces, as if something had been smashed with great force, as in, thrown hard against something. I noticed most of the glass was surrounding the toilet. I saw a glass base and realized that the hurricane glasses were smashed, well that and the fact that the floor was also covered in seashells.
I looked at my guy and said "why did you do this" He shot back at me, saying the same thing. We went back and forth, accusing each other, and I stormed out into the living room and asked the friend, "why are you covering for him?" The friend says it was like that when they got home, and they came home earlier in the day, right after I had left. Right after I was praying and had the sense that I needed to get out of the trailer. He said there was no way my guy did it because they were together the whole day. I believed him, this guy had no reason to lie, he was always straightforward.
I was finally able to convince them that it wasn't me, and I also told them about the bad feeling I had earlier. Then the truth came out about the trailer, something I had never heard before. The friend told me that when he purchased the property, it came with a trailer that had a price of $1.00 on it. The woman selling the place just wanted to be rid of it. Seems that there was a little problem there: sometimes objects could be seen floating in mid-air, then stopping, then crashing down and shattering on the counter. When the friend bought the place, he sold the trailer and got a new one, the one we were in, and put it in the same spot.
While I was there, the friend said "man Amy you didn't have to make that mess in the bathroom..." or something like that. I had no idea what he was talking about. Then my guy started laughing and said something like I shouldn't even try to pretend it wasn't me. What were these guys talking about? I went into the bathroom. There was broken glass pieces, everywhere. Tiny pieces, as if something had been smashed with great force, as in, thrown hard against something. I noticed most of the glass was surrounding the toilet. I saw a glass base and realized that the hurricane glasses were smashed, well that and the fact that the floor was also covered in seashells.
I looked at my guy and said "why did you do this" He shot back at me, saying the same thing. We went back and forth, accusing each other, and I stormed out into the living room and asked the friend, "why are you covering for him?" The friend says it was like that when they got home, and they came home earlier in the day, right after I had left. Right after I was praying and had the sense that I needed to get out of the trailer. He said there was no way my guy did it because they were together the whole day. I believed him, this guy had no reason to lie, he was always straightforward.
I was finally able to convince them that it wasn't me, and I also told them about the bad feeling I had earlier. Then the truth came out about the trailer, something I had never heard before. The friend told me that when he purchased the property, it came with a trailer that had a price of $1.00 on it. The woman selling the place just wanted to be rid of it. Seems that there was a little problem there: sometimes objects could be seen floating in mid-air, then stopping, then crashing down and shattering on the counter. When the friend bought the place, he sold the trailer and got a new one, the one we were in, and put it in the same spot.
piece 26
When I entered the trailer, it felt different. I was going to get all of the rest of our things and never go back. I hadn't decided about him, that was another subject. All I knew at that moment was that I was done living out in that trailer.
Something felt strange. Off. So I prayed. And I was overcome with an urgent warning to get out of the trailer, now. To get only what I needed, and get out. So I did. I grabbed our clothes and a few other things, and fled. Something was in the air and it was oppressive and I was afraid.
The whole way home, as I drove, I thought about what I did when I first moved in. I waited till I had a minute alone, with nobody else there, and I went through the place and prayed, and asked God to bless it and if anything was dwelling there that was not of Him, to make it leave, so that my daughter and I could live in relative safety and peace. Don't ask why I do that. That's a whole different story, but trust me, it's worth doing.
So in this first prayer, I remember telling God, "whatever lives here, God, make it leave and unable to come back until I move out."
Something felt strange. Off. So I prayed. And I was overcome with an urgent warning to get out of the trailer, now. To get only what I needed, and get out. So I did. I grabbed our clothes and a few other things, and fled. Something was in the air and it was oppressive and I was afraid.
The whole way home, as I drove, I thought about what I did when I first moved in. I waited till I had a minute alone, with nobody else there, and I went through the place and prayed, and asked God to bless it and if anything was dwelling there that was not of Him, to make it leave, so that my daughter and I could live in relative safety and peace. Don't ask why I do that. That's a whole different story, but trust me, it's worth doing.
So in this first prayer, I remember telling God, "whatever lives here, God, make it leave and unable to come back until I move out."
piece 25
That only lasted for about 3 weeks, or maybe a month. I couldn't do it. I couldn't sleep at night. I couldn't take away the one last thing that my daughter had. I saw her tears, I saw her confusion. I was hurting my child.
I woke up one morning at the end of October, and I knew it was time. Time to end it all. Not only put her back where she belongs, in her old school, but go home.
I took her to school that morning, then came home and waited for him to leave for work. Earlier that morning, when she was still getting dressed in her room, he & I got into a huge fight. I told him that I wanted to put her back in her old school and go back to the driving. He lost his temper and yelled and said something about my "f***ing daughter", loud enough for her to hear. He said it was all about her, and that she was spoiled. Spoiled?
When he left for work, I loaded up some of our things into the back of the car, said "let's go" to my dog, and drove back up to the school. I walked into the office and said I needed to withdraw my child. I got the condescending look from the middle aged woman with puffy hair and glasses and was told to fill out some forms, then they sent for my daughter.
I told her that we were going home. She hugged me and we cried. I cried. She was overjoyed. She said, "can I see my friends at my school, today?" I said "you sure can, come on." So we drove all the way home, back to our town, and walked into the school. Signed some forms, greeted by a few teachers who knew us, smiled at. It was a small town, and some people there knew what had happened with my brother, and they knew my whole family, which was nice, I wasn't judged for a change.
My daughter about ran down the hallway and walked into the classroom. I stayed out in the hallway but I watched through the window in the door. I saw her walk in, and I saw her classmates turn and look. They all jumped up and ran to her and threw their arms around her. It was a huddle. I heard shouts, kids saying her name. She was, at that moment, hugged by about 10 second graders.
I stood there and tears ran down my face. I was sobbing. I cried all the way home. Home. Where was home, now? Which parent should I stay with now? I went back to my dad's, unloaded the things from the car, grabbed a cup of coffee and turned around and went back out to the trailer to get the rest of our things. He still didn't know what I was doing.
I woke up one morning at the end of October, and I knew it was time. Time to end it all. Not only put her back where she belongs, in her old school, but go home.
I took her to school that morning, then came home and waited for him to leave for work. Earlier that morning, when she was still getting dressed in her room, he & I got into a huge fight. I told him that I wanted to put her back in her old school and go back to the driving. He lost his temper and yelled and said something about my "f***ing daughter", loud enough for her to hear. He said it was all about her, and that she was spoiled. Spoiled?
When he left for work, I loaded up some of our things into the back of the car, said "let's go" to my dog, and drove back up to the school. I walked into the office and said I needed to withdraw my child. I got the condescending look from the middle aged woman with puffy hair and glasses and was told to fill out some forms, then they sent for my daughter.
I told her that we were going home. She hugged me and we cried. I cried. She was overjoyed. She said, "can I see my friends at my school, today?" I said "you sure can, come on." So we drove all the way home, back to our town, and walked into the school. Signed some forms, greeted by a few teachers who knew us, smiled at. It was a small town, and some people there knew what had happened with my brother, and they knew my whole family, which was nice, I wasn't judged for a change.
My daughter about ran down the hallway and walked into the classroom. I stayed out in the hallway but I watched through the window in the door. I saw her walk in, and I saw her classmates turn and look. They all jumped up and ran to her and threw their arms around her. It was a huddle. I heard shouts, kids saying her name. She was, at that moment, hugged by about 10 second graders.
I stood there and tears ran down my face. I was sobbing. I cried all the way home. Home. Where was home, now? Which parent should I stay with now? I went back to my dad's, unloaded the things from the car, grabbed a cup of coffee and turned around and went back out to the trailer to get the rest of our things. He still didn't know what I was doing.
piece 24
Fall came around, school started again. Back to the driving. More fights on this subject, more pressure to put my daughter in school out there, where we lived. I was against it. This is where it all gets worse. Everything escalated, and my ex & I started fighting as well. I was at a loss as to what to do. Marriage was being discussed, but is this what I wanted? Did he want it? Did I want to be with a guy who hid rolls of money in the lining of the drapes, from me? As if I had any designs on his cash. But that's another story, the whole money thing.
I even considered letting my daughter go live with her dad for a while, but he couldn't do it. He had his own kind of trouble going on. We were all a mess, every last one of us. I knew it was time to get back to reality, I considered moving back home, but I was torn. What if it could work with this guy, long term? What if we just needed more time together and better living arrangements? On some level, we were a good couple. We did have our things in common, and when we got along, things were great. I can't lie and say it was all bad. Nor can I claim to be an oppressed victim, because I gave him some hell right back.
Everything escalated, the fights, and the fact that it was so expensive to do all that driving back and forth was not a pleasant topic, since he was giving me gas money. I finally did it. In October of '98, I pulled my daughter out of her school and enrolled her out where we were living.
I even considered letting my daughter go live with her dad for a while, but he couldn't do it. He had his own kind of trouble going on. We were all a mess, every last one of us. I knew it was time to get back to reality, I considered moving back home, but I was torn. What if it could work with this guy, long term? What if we just needed more time together and better living arrangements? On some level, we were a good couple. We did have our things in common, and when we got along, things were great. I can't lie and say it was all bad. Nor can I claim to be an oppressed victim, because I gave him some hell right back.
Everything escalated, the fights, and the fact that it was so expensive to do all that driving back and forth was not a pleasant topic, since he was giving me gas money. I finally did it. In October of '98, I pulled my daughter out of her school and enrolled her out where we were living.
piece 23
We also drove to Vegas to see his dad one time, my guy hadn't seen him since he went to prison. But I've already told this one several times, and I'm tired of it, so I'm going to condense it for you: He had a suspended license, so I drove. I got tired, so he drove for just a short time. Almost out of Texas when we got pulled over, he got arrested, sheriff led me to a motel. Got a creepy wake-up call the next morning from a heavy breathing man who I know was the hotel manager, telling me he'd give me $1,000 if I came to his room. Freaked out, grabbed my things, found courthouse, bailed him out with the rest of our money. Wanted to go home after that, but no, we were still going to Vegas, according to him. Ate chips and drank water and coffee, that's it. No money for a motel, so we just kept going. Slept in the car at a rest stop on the border of Arizona & Nevada, surrounded by big trucks with big sleeping men inside and lots of vending machines and bathrooms that stank to high heaven.
I had a dream, I saw money in my hand, woke up and announced that we were going to win some money. We did. Used it for food and a nice hotel on the way home. Met his dad, he took us out to eat, heard his dad say that my guy would be a fool if he didn't settle down with me. I liked him. Big man with a shady past but who was gentle and friendly. A real pleasure to meet him. He died a few years later of a heart attack, so it's a good thing we went out there. It was the only time my guy saw his dad.
I heard that when he died, he requested that his ashes be scattered over the mountains somewhere out there, so my guy did it for him. He told me he climbed up to the top of one and just opened the thing and let the wind carry the ashes off. He said it was a good feeling to do it and that it changed his outlook on how he viewed his father and it helped him to accept the past and want to move forward. I heard about all this when I saw him several years later, in '03.
I had a dream, I saw money in my hand, woke up and announced that we were going to win some money. We did. Used it for food and a nice hotel on the way home. Met his dad, he took us out to eat, heard his dad say that my guy would be a fool if he didn't settle down with me. I liked him. Big man with a shady past but who was gentle and friendly. A real pleasure to meet him. He died a few years later of a heart attack, so it's a good thing we went out there. It was the only time my guy saw his dad.
I heard that when he died, he requested that his ashes be scattered over the mountains somewhere out there, so my guy did it for him. He told me he climbed up to the top of one and just opened the thing and let the wind carry the ashes off. He said it was a good feeling to do it and that it changed his outlook on how he viewed his father and it helped him to accept the past and want to move forward. I heard about all this when I saw him several years later, in '03.
piece 22
We did manage to have some fun, occasionally. Sometimes we'd just get in the car and drive. (My car, of course.) We'd go to stay with his brother, in Louisiana. When we were there, our visist was always hijacked by his mom and her husband, and we'd do all the tourist things. I know the whole story by heart of Evangeline, I stood where she supposedly stood, under the big tree with moss hanging from it. I've seen the gators and eaten the gumbo. Down there, they leave the claws intact in a bowl of gumbo, did you know that? As in, the shell on and everything? I discovered this at a truck stop diner on our first trip down there. They brought me my soup and there it was, floating in the center, as if it just fell in by mistake. I started to say something to the waiter until my guy stopped me and said no, that's the way it is, just shut up and eat it. I also was forced to eat boudan. We made several stops until he found it. He swore up & down it was good. Lies!
Staying at his brother's was nice. Sometimes I didn't want to come back. My daughter came down there with us alot too, my guy's mom took a liking to her right away and they'd go shopping together. The mom had an extensive beanie baby collection which held my daughter's attention. Everyone was in a good mood down there. I became friends with the brother's wife, I really liked her. I think she was a bigger nerd than me. All she did was play video games, she really got into them. The brother always cooked and his breakfast was the best and the coffee he made was perfect. I'm telling you, I never wanted to leave. Of course, my guy soon got suspicious and thought me and the brother liked each other, so a few fights happened down there. The brother was so nice. He always insisted that we take their big bed, and they'd sleep out on the couches. He was always happy to see me each time we went. Come to think of it, maybe I should have pursued something with him. Oh, wait, he was married. Nevermind.
The older brother was a different story. Serious, cocky, reserved. Just different. I couldn't believe these 3 guys were all related. He's the one who pulled out these newspaper articles for me to read. I saw it all, it was all true. He and his wife had a bunch of kids and they were all friendly, but it just wasn't the same as the other brother's house.
One night we went to somebody's house down there, I have no idea who it was, but we were all sitting around outside at this picnic table, talking, cooking hotdogs over a small fire. All of a sudden this screen door busts open and a big scary woman holding a shotgun starts yelling and cussing in half French at all of us, saying, we better get our asses off her property, we're making too much noise, son you know I don't allow strangers here... I was terrified, but the guys were all laughing, turns out she was an alcoholic and she always said things like that, but my main concern was the shotgun.
On the way home we always drove to the beach, usually Galveston, got out and walked around for a few hours. My best memories with him were on the beach. No fighting, no nothing. Just walking together, saying nothing, all along the shoreline. I always gathered seashells on these trips, had a whole bunch of them. I kept them in two huge hurricane glasses that we got from Reunion Tower, they sat on either side of the bathroom counter.
Staying at his brother's was nice. Sometimes I didn't want to come back. My daughter came down there with us alot too, my guy's mom took a liking to her right away and they'd go shopping together. The mom had an extensive beanie baby collection which held my daughter's attention. Everyone was in a good mood down there. I became friends with the brother's wife, I really liked her. I think she was a bigger nerd than me. All she did was play video games, she really got into them. The brother always cooked and his breakfast was the best and the coffee he made was perfect. I'm telling you, I never wanted to leave. Of course, my guy soon got suspicious and thought me and the brother liked each other, so a few fights happened down there. The brother was so nice. He always insisted that we take their big bed, and they'd sleep out on the couches. He was always happy to see me each time we went. Come to think of it, maybe I should have pursued something with him. Oh, wait, he was married. Nevermind.
The older brother was a different story. Serious, cocky, reserved. Just different. I couldn't believe these 3 guys were all related. He's the one who pulled out these newspaper articles for me to read. I saw it all, it was all true. He and his wife had a bunch of kids and they were all friendly, but it just wasn't the same as the other brother's house.
One night we went to somebody's house down there, I have no idea who it was, but we were all sitting around outside at this picnic table, talking, cooking hotdogs over a small fire. All of a sudden this screen door busts open and a big scary woman holding a shotgun starts yelling and cussing in half French at all of us, saying, we better get our asses off her property, we're making too much noise, son you know I don't allow strangers here... I was terrified, but the guys were all laughing, turns out she was an alcoholic and she always said things like that, but my main concern was the shotgun.
On the way home we always drove to the beach, usually Galveston, got out and walked around for a few hours. My best memories with him were on the beach. No fighting, no nothing. Just walking together, saying nothing, all along the shoreline. I always gathered seashells on these trips, had a whole bunch of them. I kept them in two huge hurricane glasses that we got from Reunion Tower, they sat on either side of the bathroom counter.
piece 21
Sometimes his temper would get out of control. A perfect example is this~ we were all out on the boat, in the middle of the lake, going along slowly. He was getting ready to get on the knee board and asked me to hold his hat, a baseball cap. As I sat there holding it, I spun it around and around on my finger, and noticed the ring of dirt on the inside of it. I said, "man this cap is dirty..."
That's what did it. When I said this, he stopped what he was doing and looked at me with those eyes. Then he said, "hey I don't want to go right now, you want a turn?" I did. So I stood on the edge of the boat and reached for the line, when he pushed me into the lake. No lifejacket, no line to hold onto, right in the middle of the lake, and the boat kept moving on. I heard him laughing as the water from the wake of the boat splashed up into my face. The boat went off, then circled around a few times. He was laughing and I could see the friend taking the wheel to steer it back towards me. I tread water for a minute or two, then they came back & got me. I fell right beside the boat motor, just a hair away from the blade. When they pulled me back up into the boat, my guy said, "That's what you get for insulting me in front of my friends."
So, by commenting on the dirt ring on the cap, I was committing a terrible crime. I said nothing as I calmed my nerves by grabbing a beer for myself, and one for him too. We sat side by side and popped open our beers. He was still laughing and all smug, thinking he really got me. I was silent, maybe laughing a little with him. I already knew exactly how to handle this.
I let him carry on just a bit more, and waited till he took another sip of his beer. When he finally did, just out of the blue, in a split second, I slammed my fist against the bottom of the can, ramming it into his lip, slicing it open, drawing blood.
I heard more laughter, this time, coming from his friends and not him. I took another sip of my beer and looked at him, and gave him my sweetest smile.
That's what did it. When I said this, he stopped what he was doing and looked at me with those eyes. Then he said, "hey I don't want to go right now, you want a turn?" I did. So I stood on the edge of the boat and reached for the line, when he pushed me into the lake. No lifejacket, no line to hold onto, right in the middle of the lake, and the boat kept moving on. I heard him laughing as the water from the wake of the boat splashed up into my face. The boat went off, then circled around a few times. He was laughing and I could see the friend taking the wheel to steer it back towards me. I tread water for a minute or two, then they came back & got me. I fell right beside the boat motor, just a hair away from the blade. When they pulled me back up into the boat, my guy said, "That's what you get for insulting me in front of my friends."
So, by commenting on the dirt ring on the cap, I was committing a terrible crime. I said nothing as I calmed my nerves by grabbing a beer for myself, and one for him too. We sat side by side and popped open our beers. He was still laughing and all smug, thinking he really got me. I was silent, maybe laughing a little with him. I already knew exactly how to handle this.
I let him carry on just a bit more, and waited till he took another sip of his beer. When he finally did, just out of the blue, in a split second, I slammed my fist against the bottom of the can, ramming it into his lip, slicing it open, drawing blood.
I heard more laughter, this time, coming from his friends and not him. I took another sip of my beer and looked at him, and gave him my sweetest smile.
piece 20
Just now I was in the bathroom, putting my hair up in a ponytail, and this memory came into my head from out of nowhere:
We were all sitting around talking in the trailer. We were on the topic of mistakes and God and other deep things. I started talking about how the things we do make us who we are, and if we let God get involved, it all works out for our good. I then told them that I had and abortion of the age of 18, and they were listening to me, and I was telling them the whole story, when I sensed my guy tense up. I looked over at him and his face was red and all clenched up and angry, then he cussed at me, got up, stormed out of the room, went into the bedroom and yelled out my name and demanded I go in there.
The others just sat there in silence. They'd seen this before, but not how bad it could get, because we somewhat kept it to ourselves. I stood there and yelled out at him that I wasn't going in there with him. He was cussing and demanding it, and the others shook their heads no. My friend said, "Amy don't you dare go in there right now." I had no idea what I had done wrong to offend him so much, he already knew about the abortion, and how on earth could that bother him so much?
After a minute he said, in a lower tone, "Amy will you please come in here so we can talk. I'm not mad." So I went. He was furious. He said I had humiliated him by saying all that stuff in front of the others, that you don't go telling people your personal things, especially not about an abortion, and don't ever talk like that again around him, and never to his friends.
Well. Let me just say, he did manage to leave an impression on my head that night, and like a good girl, I never did go deep in a conversation when his buddies were around, after that. But- years later, I sat down and wrote my testimony. I told it all. I spoke of all my mistakes, including, but not limited to, an overview of my time spent with HIM.
I got more and more bold, and shared it with MANY people. I have overcome my fear of speaking out. I have learned that it's good to tell others what you've done wrong, because you never know who's listening, and just might benefit from it. You never know.
We were all sitting around talking in the trailer. We were on the topic of mistakes and God and other deep things. I started talking about how the things we do make us who we are, and if we let God get involved, it all works out for our good. I then told them that I had and abortion of the age of 18, and they were listening to me, and I was telling them the whole story, when I sensed my guy tense up. I looked over at him and his face was red and all clenched up and angry, then he cussed at me, got up, stormed out of the room, went into the bedroom and yelled out my name and demanded I go in there.
The others just sat there in silence. They'd seen this before, but not how bad it could get, because we somewhat kept it to ourselves. I stood there and yelled out at him that I wasn't going in there with him. He was cussing and demanding it, and the others shook their heads no. My friend said, "Amy don't you dare go in there right now." I had no idea what I had done wrong to offend him so much, he already knew about the abortion, and how on earth could that bother him so much?
After a minute he said, in a lower tone, "Amy will you please come in here so we can talk. I'm not mad." So I went. He was furious. He said I had humiliated him by saying all that stuff in front of the others, that you don't go telling people your personal things, especially not about an abortion, and don't ever talk like that again around him, and never to his friends.
Well. Let me just say, he did manage to leave an impression on my head that night, and like a good girl, I never did go deep in a conversation when his buddies were around, after that. But- years later, I sat down and wrote my testimony. I told it all. I spoke of all my mistakes, including, but not limited to, an overview of my time spent with HIM.
I got more and more bold, and shared it with MANY people. I have overcome my fear of speaking out. I have learned that it's good to tell others what you've done wrong, because you never know who's listening, and just might benefit from it. You never know.
piece 19
I'm trying to recall what an average day was like during this time, in the trailer.
When school was still in, I'd do all that driving, then have a couple of hours alone, to myself, that is before my friend appeared on the scene. Sometime's I'd just sit inside on the couch and read my Bible. Sometimes I'd open the back door and sit on the steps, playing fetch with my dog. It was nothing but fields behind us, no houses or anything as far as the eye could see. That in itself was enough to satisfy me. I'd just sit and stare. And my dog, she'd run. I let her. I decided that this would be her "wide open spaces" time in her own life, as well.
What on earth else did I do? I don't remember. I think I prayed a lot. Took a lot of hot baths, then a shower. They used to make fun of me cause I'd take forever. My friend was like, "so, Amy, what do you do in there? Soak for an hour, then rinse off for 30 minutes?" Yes, I did. It felt good. I think, on occasion, I'd drive around this town, just to get a feel for where I was at. Not so bad, really. I liked it. My dad always said the only way a person can be satisfied and content in a place like that is if they grew up there; otherwise it doesn't work for long. He's right, for once. I looked around me at the people, especially the women at the grocery store. That's the strongest indicator, right there. Those women said it all- what becomes of you if you stay there too long. I knew it wasn't for me, forever. But, now my guy & I were talking marriage. On and off, we never could decide. There was a growing debate between us about the school issue, why did I still have her in her old school, what, am I too good for the schools out here? More accusations. I found myself not only pleading my own case to him but my daughter's case as well. Like a guilty criminal, begging for mercy and understanding from a harsh judge, that's what it did to me. See, over time, it gets inside your head when you are in a relationship like this. It messes with the way you think. Sometimes you even begin to think like the guy, and believe him when he says things.
When school let out, it got fun. As long as I didn't think too deep, or rather, think at all. If I stayed drunk, I had fun. We all spent a lot of time at the lake, did a lot of knee boarding and whatever else the guys tied to the back of the boat and said to us girls, here, get on. Even my daughter had fun. The guys usually got up early and came home in the late afternoon on weekdays, so us three girls just kept ourselves occupied. I stocked up on workbooks for my daughter, the fun kind, and we'd sit at the table and I'd give her a nickel a page. That's something we've always done, so it was comforting to her. Not so much good parenting, no, the fact is, I wanted her to have a head start on school so that I wouldn't ever have to help her with math. It paid off. We started doing workbooks together when she was 3, continued till she was about 8 or 9. I made sure it was fun, always lit a small candle and had snacks on the table & music going. So anyway, this is one good thing I managed to do during this time, thank goodness.
At her bedtime, I'd lay down beside her and tell her stories and pray with her. I was not a bad mom. Just compromised. I was in a broken state, grieving the loss of my brother, in a questionable relationship, newly divorced, basically my entire world had shattered. I had no strength and I had no idea what I was doing. I had no presence of mind to sit and evaluate my situation. I couldn't even think far enough into the future as the next day. It's as if, I was totally disabled. I want to say my brain was gone, but no, it was my emotions. I couldn't feel. I tried, but there was nothing there. My own daughter had to ask me for hugs, and when we'd lay together, she asked me to put my arm around her, like we used to. Again, what's happened, that my child has to request affection?
I was aware of all this stuff, I knew the whole thing was bad, on every level. Where to begin? That we divorced? That life as I had known it was over? I had been a stay-at-home mom since the day she was born, never set foot in a place of employment until we separated and my daughter started school. I had no clue how to operate in the world, alone. And this is why, upon meeting this guy, I clung to him.
Let me say, you think you're strong, you may believe you have it all together in your head and in your life, but just as sure as the sun sets and rises, you will be tested and challenged in those very areas of your life. The very areas that you have deemed stable. And you will be shocked when you see your house come tumbling down.
I have been broken and shattered so many times, it's unreal. I guess I needed it.
When school was still in, I'd do all that driving, then have a couple of hours alone, to myself, that is before my friend appeared on the scene. Sometime's I'd just sit inside on the couch and read my Bible. Sometimes I'd open the back door and sit on the steps, playing fetch with my dog. It was nothing but fields behind us, no houses or anything as far as the eye could see. That in itself was enough to satisfy me. I'd just sit and stare. And my dog, she'd run. I let her. I decided that this would be her "wide open spaces" time in her own life, as well.
What on earth else did I do? I don't remember. I think I prayed a lot. Took a lot of hot baths, then a shower. They used to make fun of me cause I'd take forever. My friend was like, "so, Amy, what do you do in there? Soak for an hour, then rinse off for 30 minutes?" Yes, I did. It felt good. I think, on occasion, I'd drive around this town, just to get a feel for where I was at. Not so bad, really. I liked it. My dad always said the only way a person can be satisfied and content in a place like that is if they grew up there; otherwise it doesn't work for long. He's right, for once. I looked around me at the people, especially the women at the grocery store. That's the strongest indicator, right there. Those women said it all- what becomes of you if you stay there too long. I knew it wasn't for me, forever. But, now my guy & I were talking marriage. On and off, we never could decide. There was a growing debate between us about the school issue, why did I still have her in her old school, what, am I too good for the schools out here? More accusations. I found myself not only pleading my own case to him but my daughter's case as well. Like a guilty criminal, begging for mercy and understanding from a harsh judge, that's what it did to me. See, over time, it gets inside your head when you are in a relationship like this. It messes with the way you think. Sometimes you even begin to think like the guy, and believe him when he says things.
When school let out, it got fun. As long as I didn't think too deep, or rather, think at all. If I stayed drunk, I had fun. We all spent a lot of time at the lake, did a lot of knee boarding and whatever else the guys tied to the back of the boat and said to us girls, here, get on. Even my daughter had fun. The guys usually got up early and came home in the late afternoon on weekdays, so us three girls just kept ourselves occupied. I stocked up on workbooks for my daughter, the fun kind, and we'd sit at the table and I'd give her a nickel a page. That's something we've always done, so it was comforting to her. Not so much good parenting, no, the fact is, I wanted her to have a head start on school so that I wouldn't ever have to help her with math. It paid off. We started doing workbooks together when she was 3, continued till she was about 8 or 9. I made sure it was fun, always lit a small candle and had snacks on the table & music going. So anyway, this is one good thing I managed to do during this time, thank goodness.
At her bedtime, I'd lay down beside her and tell her stories and pray with her. I was not a bad mom. Just compromised. I was in a broken state, grieving the loss of my brother, in a questionable relationship, newly divorced, basically my entire world had shattered. I had no strength and I had no idea what I was doing. I had no presence of mind to sit and evaluate my situation. I couldn't even think far enough into the future as the next day. It's as if, I was totally disabled. I want to say my brain was gone, but no, it was my emotions. I couldn't feel. I tried, but there was nothing there. My own daughter had to ask me for hugs, and when we'd lay together, she asked me to put my arm around her, like we used to. Again, what's happened, that my child has to request affection?
I was aware of all this stuff, I knew the whole thing was bad, on every level. Where to begin? That we divorced? That life as I had known it was over? I had been a stay-at-home mom since the day she was born, never set foot in a place of employment until we separated and my daughter started school. I had no clue how to operate in the world, alone. And this is why, upon meeting this guy, I clung to him.
Let me say, you think you're strong, you may believe you have it all together in your head and in your life, but just as sure as the sun sets and rises, you will be tested and challenged in those very areas of your life. The very areas that you have deemed stable. And you will be shocked when you see your house come tumbling down.
I have been broken and shattered so many times, it's unreal. I guess I needed it.
piece 18
One night I almost got smashed into by an 18 wheeler, or actually, I almost smashed myself into it. The main road that runs through that town is dimly lit in some places, and out where we were, it wasn't lit at all. I guess they just assume that everyone on that road knows what they're doing or something.
So I'm driving down this road, around 65 mph, when I see car headlights in front of me and honking. The car veers over really fast into the next lane, more honking. I thought it was somebody who was drunk, on the wrong side of the road. Again, another car, same thing. I thought, "man this town is filled with drunks." Then, the headlights in my face of a huge truck, more honking, but it didn't swerve over, it was just headed right at me, and I froze, I couldn't do anything, we got closer and closer, and next thing you know, at the last second I swerved the car over to the right, not knowing where I'd land. I landed in a ditch, and a second later the diesel whooshed past me, and I sat there in a daze, wondering what on earth? Does anybody know how to drive around here? It took a minute to collect my thoughts and for my heart to stop pounding, then, I looked over to my right and saw the other side of the road. The side I was supposed to be on.
What's funny is, I finally told my mom about that, and she said that she did the exact same thing, on the same road, on the one time she drove out there to get my daughter for the weekend. So we both almost ended up like roadkill.
I wonder, what would life have been like for my daughter if I would have died that night? Would she have been alright, over time? Or would it have been too much, after losing her uncle as well? Just to think of it all makes me cringe, I can't believe all of this happened, I can't believe I got into this situation and coped like I did. I did it all intentionally, I chose to escape, I wanted to be with him. It was like being underwater and not wanting to come up for air. My older sister called out there one time and was crying, saying, "you can't run from everything much longer, Amy, come home...." But I told her to shut up, that I was handling it all my way, there was no other way, and that I was just fine.
I really was, I think.
So I'm driving down this road, around 65 mph, when I see car headlights in front of me and honking. The car veers over really fast into the next lane, more honking. I thought it was somebody who was drunk, on the wrong side of the road. Again, another car, same thing. I thought, "man this town is filled with drunks." Then, the headlights in my face of a huge truck, more honking, but it didn't swerve over, it was just headed right at me, and I froze, I couldn't do anything, we got closer and closer, and next thing you know, at the last second I swerved the car over to the right, not knowing where I'd land. I landed in a ditch, and a second later the diesel whooshed past me, and I sat there in a daze, wondering what on earth? Does anybody know how to drive around here? It took a minute to collect my thoughts and for my heart to stop pounding, then, I looked over to my right and saw the other side of the road. The side I was supposed to be on.
What's funny is, I finally told my mom about that, and she said that she did the exact same thing, on the same road, on the one time she drove out there to get my daughter for the weekend. So we both almost ended up like roadkill.
I wonder, what would life have been like for my daughter if I would have died that night? Would she have been alright, over time? Or would it have been too much, after losing her uncle as well? Just to think of it all makes me cringe, I can't believe all of this happened, I can't believe I got into this situation and coped like I did. I did it all intentionally, I chose to escape, I wanted to be with him. It was like being underwater and not wanting to come up for air. My older sister called out there one time and was crying, saying, "you can't run from everything much longer, Amy, come home...." But I told her to shut up, that I was handling it all my way, there was no other way, and that I was just fine.
I really was, I think.
piece 17
My friend borrowed my car one day, said she was going to the store. I said fine, just be back on time so I can pick up my daughter, who was still in school about an hour away. She was not back on time. She was not back, at all. And so much time had passed that there was no way I could get my kid on time, and what's worse, there was no long distance on the phone, so I had no way to get in touch with my ex to ask him to leave work and pick her up.
I began to panic, then the phone rang. It was my friend's dad, saying that she was in jail. Turns out, she didn't go to the store, she went to see her husband in jail, and while there, they ran a check on her, found the warrant, arrested her, threw her in. My car was also in jail. Car jail.
I was furious.
I walked across the street and down the road a little way, to another trailer. Had no idea who lived there. But I had to do it, had to use a phone. Some old guy answered the door and let me in, and as I talked on the phone to my ex, I felt all these eyes on me. I looked around the room and sure enough, there were at least 6 eyeballs on me. That's 3 men in a trailer, one old, 2 young, all of them scary and I just wanted to get out of there. My dog was waiting for me outside the place, I had her come with me.
Somehow my kid was picked up, somehow I got to her that evening, somehow I got my car. When my friend was bailed out, I told her she needed to leave, but seeing as how it wasn't my place, that didn't work.
So I told her she couldn't use my car, that I would take her wherever she needed to go. Like a parent. It sucked. But she also tried to hide her stash in my car, come to find out. And she lied to me, all the time. I wanted her gone.
Somewhere along the way, she disappeared, went somewhere else. I did not miss her. Our friendship goes way back to junior high, so I do care about her, but I just don't trust her. When she lived there, it was too much, her presence only intensified all the fighting that was already going on there. We could hear her and the friend, screaming and cussing at each other in the middle of the night. We heard the sounds of people being pushed around and crashing into walls. We heard crying and all kinds of stuff. The worst thing is we heard their romps. They were loud. On purpose.
To be fair, she did bring one good thing to the trailer: a friend for my daughter. She was a friend to her. They would talk and laugh and watch movies together. My friend sort of filled in a void, filled in for me in some ways, gave my daughter things that I wasn't able to give at the time.
So she more than made up for the chaos and stress that she brought to the place, that's for sure. I guess I should be thankful. I am.
I began to panic, then the phone rang. It was my friend's dad, saying that she was in jail. Turns out, she didn't go to the store, she went to see her husband in jail, and while there, they ran a check on her, found the warrant, arrested her, threw her in. My car was also in jail. Car jail.
I was furious.
I walked across the street and down the road a little way, to another trailer. Had no idea who lived there. But I had to do it, had to use a phone. Some old guy answered the door and let me in, and as I talked on the phone to my ex, I felt all these eyes on me. I looked around the room and sure enough, there were at least 6 eyeballs on me. That's 3 men in a trailer, one old, 2 young, all of them scary and I just wanted to get out of there. My dog was waiting for me outside the place, I had her come with me.
Somehow my kid was picked up, somehow I got to her that evening, somehow I got my car. When my friend was bailed out, I told her she needed to leave, but seeing as how it wasn't my place, that didn't work.
So I told her she couldn't use my car, that I would take her wherever she needed to go. Like a parent. It sucked. But she also tried to hide her stash in my car, come to find out. And she lied to me, all the time. I wanted her gone.
Somewhere along the way, she disappeared, went somewhere else. I did not miss her. Our friendship goes way back to junior high, so I do care about her, but I just don't trust her. When she lived there, it was too much, her presence only intensified all the fighting that was already going on there. We could hear her and the friend, screaming and cussing at each other in the middle of the night. We heard the sounds of people being pushed around and crashing into walls. We heard crying and all kinds of stuff. The worst thing is we heard their romps. They were loud. On purpose.
To be fair, she did bring one good thing to the trailer: a friend for my daughter. She was a friend to her. They would talk and laugh and watch movies together. My friend sort of filled in a void, filled in for me in some ways, gave my daughter things that I wasn't able to give at the time.
So she more than made up for the chaos and stress that she brought to the place, that's for sure. I guess I should be thankful. I am.
piece 16
Come to find out, his ex just had a baby and was putting it up for adoption. The father was the guy she had an affair with. The baby had my guy's last name due to the fact that they were still married. When my guy found out about all this, and that the baby was still in the hospital, he wanted to go see it. He even thought about adopting it. Just a wild idea.
So he & I go up and try to see the baby. We walked in to the nursery area, where you could see the babies through the glass. A nurse asked if we needed anything, he said his ex just had a baby, and could he please see it? I already could see where this was going. I could sense the nurse's reaction to him, his words, his appearance, everything. Don't get me wrong, he's a good looking guy, but not exactly clean-cut. He and his friends laid carpet for a living, so all their clothes were dirty and torn all the time, and that's what he looked like just then.
I had mixed feelings. I was torn between total humiliation, and then indignation and wanting to defend him. I saw her as she looked him up and down. She then told us to "wait here". Next thing you know, a security guard comes out and we are politely told that we need to leave, that we cannot see the baby.
That wasn't the first time I had seen him treated that way. I know that they were doing the right thing, of course. When I was with him, it was always a humilitation of some form. And it was usually caused by him. Always making a scene, always saying things out loud that you shouldn't, always picking fights in public, always grabbing my butt in public. Also I was informed one time at a bar that I was to "kiss him whenever he asked, no matter what." He'd do it when he saw other guys looking. My mom said he was a classic picture of arrested development, whatever that means. Actually I know, but I am not going to admit that she might have been right.
So he & I go up and try to see the baby. We walked in to the nursery area, where you could see the babies through the glass. A nurse asked if we needed anything, he said his ex just had a baby, and could he please see it? I already could see where this was going. I could sense the nurse's reaction to him, his words, his appearance, everything. Don't get me wrong, he's a good looking guy, but not exactly clean-cut. He and his friends laid carpet for a living, so all their clothes were dirty and torn all the time, and that's what he looked like just then.
I had mixed feelings. I was torn between total humiliation, and then indignation and wanting to defend him. I saw her as she looked him up and down. She then told us to "wait here". Next thing you know, a security guard comes out and we are politely told that we need to leave, that we cannot see the baby.
That wasn't the first time I had seen him treated that way. I know that they were doing the right thing, of course. When I was with him, it was always a humilitation of some form. And it was usually caused by him. Always making a scene, always saying things out loud that you shouldn't, always picking fights in public, always grabbing my butt in public. Also I was informed one time at a bar that I was to "kiss him whenever he asked, no matter what." He'd do it when he saw other guys looking. My mom said he was a classic picture of arrested development, whatever that means. Actually I know, but I am not going to admit that she might have been right.
piece 15
the very worst memory of them all-
I've tried to forget, but can't. When this happened I realized I had hit rock bottom.
He & I were in the bedroom, door closed, locked.
I come out later, only to see my little girl, sitting on the couch, alone. TV was off, there was nobody else around.
I don't know why this was the case. I don't know what I thought she was doing or where I thought she was. I couldn't tell you. But the fact is, she was there, all alone.
I went over and sat down beside her. She looked at me and said,
"Mommy.....am I loveable?"
Does a child ever ask this? What has gone so terribly wrong that my own child has to ask me this question.
I've tried to forget, but can't. When this happened I realized I had hit rock bottom.
He & I were in the bedroom, door closed, locked.
I come out later, only to see my little girl, sitting on the couch, alone. TV was off, there was nobody else around.
I don't know why this was the case. I don't know what I thought she was doing or where I thought she was. I couldn't tell you. But the fact is, she was there, all alone.
I went over and sat down beside her. She looked at me and said,
"Mommy.....am I loveable?"
Does a child ever ask this? What has gone so terribly wrong that my own child has to ask me this question.
piece 14
My ex husband says that one day, my friend and I showed up at his house (where I lived when we were married) and asked him if we could borrow a pan for cooking steaks. The kind that is like a rack, with a pan underneath, it goes in the oven. I have absolutely no memory of this. He says we were just casually asking to borrow one, and he let us in, and we rummaged throught the kitchen, laughing, till we found one. He's brought this incident up several times, usually when we're going back and forth making fun of each other. I'll say something to him, then he'll say, "at least I didn't come asking to borrow things from you so that I could cook dinner for my girlfriend."
There's no way that could have been my idea. To cook dinner, for starters. Then steak of all things, that had to have been my friend's idea, we didn't eat like that in the trailer. It was fast food, always. Thirdly, it must have been her idea to go ask my ex. I'm sure of it. Either way, I don't remember it.
I do remember me & her getting into it a little bit, sort of a territorial thing, especially in the kitchen. I'd clean it and have things one way, then, the next day, everything would be different, so I'd put it back like I had it, and so on. Two homeless women contending for Queen status in a trailer out in the middle of nowhere. Funny, looking back. Funny that we would even attempt to make a nest there. One day it hit me how funny it all was, my friend & I were laying on HER bed (yes now she had her own room), and I just died laughing, uncontrollably. She asked me what was so funny, and I could barely get the words out. She ended up catching it and started laughing too, we were red in the face and crying, and finally I got it out: I said, still laughing, "look at us...we used to be perfect little stay-at-home mommies...taken care of...and now...here we are....both of us....in a trailer...out here...with THESE guys....." It was funny. If you could see our upbringings, both of us, you'd see what a culture shock it was. Especially for her, since her husband was the top salesman at a well-known furniture company and made ridiculous commissions. They had quite the home. And now this. She had a pair of handcuffs hanging on her doorknob. I asked her to take them down and put them away, she laughed at me. I didn't want my daughter to see them. I still think that kind of thing is retarded.
There's no way that could have been my idea. To cook dinner, for starters. Then steak of all things, that had to have been my friend's idea, we didn't eat like that in the trailer. It was fast food, always. Thirdly, it must have been her idea to go ask my ex. I'm sure of it. Either way, I don't remember it.
I do remember me & her getting into it a little bit, sort of a territorial thing, especially in the kitchen. I'd clean it and have things one way, then, the next day, everything would be different, so I'd put it back like I had it, and so on. Two homeless women contending for Queen status in a trailer out in the middle of nowhere. Funny, looking back. Funny that we would even attempt to make a nest there. One day it hit me how funny it all was, my friend & I were laying on HER bed (yes now she had her own room), and I just died laughing, uncontrollably. She asked me what was so funny, and I could barely get the words out. She ended up catching it and started laughing too, we were red in the face and crying, and finally I got it out: I said, still laughing, "look at us...we used to be perfect little stay-at-home mommies...taken care of...and now...here we are....both of us....in a trailer...out here...with THESE guys....." It was funny. If you could see our upbringings, both of us, you'd see what a culture shock it was. Especially for her, since her husband was the top salesman at a well-known furniture company and made ridiculous commissions. They had quite the home. And now this. She had a pair of handcuffs hanging on her doorknob. I asked her to take them down and put them away, she laughed at me. I didn't want my daughter to see them. I still think that kind of thing is retarded.
piece 13
Enter my friend.
She heard I was staying out there and showed up. Said she needed a place to stay for a few days, but didn't tell me why. All I knew is that her husband was just sent to jail on drug charges. I had no idea there was a warrant out for her. Now, living at this trailer, was my guy, me, my daughter, the friend who owned it, and my friend, who promptly sunk her claws into the trailer owner, and they became an item. They fought almost as much as me and my guy fought. A real circus for sure.
Lots of folks came & went, the place had it's regulars. I befriended them all. The most surreal experience of my life.
One odd memory, just out of the blue: soaking in a hot bath for like an hour, my head halfway under water to block out all the noise, just relaxing. Getting out, wrapping up in a towel, walking out into the living room only to be greeted by about 10 people, just sitting around on the couches. I stood there. Somebody laughed and said, "have a good bath, Amy?" I got mad & went into our room. My guy followed me back there and asked what my problem was, I said I had no idea all these people were here, and he said what do you expect? That's the way it is around here....
I eventually got used to it. I was drinking every day now. I'd get up early, drive my daughter to school which was about an hour away, drive back, get drunk, set alarm in case I dozed off, drove back & picked her up, and back to the trailer again. This went on for about 3 months, till school ended.
When my little car was sold years later, it had over 300,000 miles on it. People would ask how on earth was that possible. It wasn't worth explaining. That little car was also driven to Vegas & back, and to Louisiana several times. It got great gas mileage and never broke down. It was a '98 Chevy Metro, the most humble of vehicles but also the best car I've ever owned.
She heard I was staying out there and showed up. Said she needed a place to stay for a few days, but didn't tell me why. All I knew is that her husband was just sent to jail on drug charges. I had no idea there was a warrant out for her. Now, living at this trailer, was my guy, me, my daughter, the friend who owned it, and my friend, who promptly sunk her claws into the trailer owner, and they became an item. They fought almost as much as me and my guy fought. A real circus for sure.
Lots of folks came & went, the place had it's regulars. I befriended them all. The most surreal experience of my life.
One odd memory, just out of the blue: soaking in a hot bath for like an hour, my head halfway under water to block out all the noise, just relaxing. Getting out, wrapping up in a towel, walking out into the living room only to be greeted by about 10 people, just sitting around on the couches. I stood there. Somebody laughed and said, "have a good bath, Amy?" I got mad & went into our room. My guy followed me back there and asked what my problem was, I said I had no idea all these people were here, and he said what do you expect? That's the way it is around here....
I eventually got used to it. I was drinking every day now. I'd get up early, drive my daughter to school which was about an hour away, drive back, get drunk, set alarm in case I dozed off, drove back & picked her up, and back to the trailer again. This went on for about 3 months, till school ended.
When my little car was sold years later, it had over 300,000 miles on it. People would ask how on earth was that possible. It wasn't worth explaining. That little car was also driven to Vegas & back, and to Louisiana several times. It got great gas mileage and never broke down. It was a '98 Chevy Metro, the most humble of vehicles but also the best car I've ever owned.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
piece 12
One night we heard smashing in the living room, the sound of breaking glass. We get up and run out there, and there was his friend, the owner of the trailer, drunk, crying, holding a baseball bat in his hand, and a big fancy framed wall mirror all busted up, broken in pieces, on the living room floor. He kept saying the name of his ex wife, over and over again. They had just split too.
My guy tried to tell him to stop, but I took over. I leaned against the wall and looked into his eyes, I saw his hurt. I looked at the broken pieces of glass and said, "did it feel good?" He looked surprised. He just looked at me and goes, "Yeah....thanks."
When we were walking back into the bedroom I heard him say something like "that's one f***ing good woman."
I suppose that was a compliment.
I met the friend's ex wife a few months later. She went wild after the split and landed in jail on drug charges. I met her when she got out, they tried to get back together, no go. We all went out a few times, camped out at the lake, etc. Again, it's a blur. I don't remember much about her, just us getting the giggles really easy and laughing at nothing.
There was a dog there who lived under the front deck, she kept getting pregnant and having litter after litter. There was a friend who kept his things there, but got sent to jail, but he owed rent and couldn't pay. I was given this poor guy's bed just so he'd lose something. It was an old brass frame, spray-painted blue. I was told to take it. So I did, and felt guilty. If I knew where it was right now I'd find a way to return it to him. Last I saw it, it was in my dad's garage in the house I grew up in. When my dad moved, he donated all the stuff in the garage. So I lost a guy's bed. Sad? I don't know. I just think it's odd.
My guy tried to tell him to stop, but I took over. I leaned against the wall and looked into his eyes, I saw his hurt. I looked at the broken pieces of glass and said, "did it feel good?" He looked surprised. He just looked at me and goes, "Yeah....thanks."
When we were walking back into the bedroom I heard him say something like "that's one f***ing good woman."
I suppose that was a compliment.
I met the friend's ex wife a few months later. She went wild after the split and landed in jail on drug charges. I met her when she got out, they tried to get back together, no go. We all went out a few times, camped out at the lake, etc. Again, it's a blur. I don't remember much about her, just us getting the giggles really easy and laughing at nothing.
There was a dog there who lived under the front deck, she kept getting pregnant and having litter after litter. There was a friend who kept his things there, but got sent to jail, but he owed rent and couldn't pay. I was given this poor guy's bed just so he'd lose something. It was an old brass frame, spray-painted blue. I was told to take it. So I did, and felt guilty. If I knew where it was right now I'd find a way to return it to him. Last I saw it, it was in my dad's garage in the house I grew up in. When my dad moved, he donated all the stuff in the garage. So I lost a guy's bed. Sad? I don't know. I just think it's odd.
piece 11
It's blurry. It all runs together during this time. I can't tell you exact dates. I just remember bits and pieces of it.
I remember he got a black light, and glow in the dark paint. I remember his room always being dark, stereo on, candle lit, cigarette smoke, and us. Drinking, card games, sex.
I remember his friends out in the living room partying, and being walked in on a few times, sometimes on purpose I'm sure. By this point I didn't care. I was drinking every day and night. We didn't sleep. I had to get up around 5 am in order to make it to work, which was in my town. That is, till I just gave that up too.
I felt dirty and broken and lost.
I remember he got a black light, and glow in the dark paint. I remember his room always being dark, stereo on, candle lit, cigarette smoke, and us. Drinking, card games, sex.
I remember his friends out in the living room partying, and being walked in on a few times, sometimes on purpose I'm sure. By this point I didn't care. I was drinking every day and night. We didn't sleep. I had to get up around 5 am in order to make it to work, which was in my town. That is, till I just gave that up too.
I felt dirty and broken and lost.
piece 10
One day I let myself in the trailer, nobody was home. I heard music, coming from his room. I walked in, he had left a cd in, it was Collective Soul, Sister Don't Cry. I had never heard it before. The words grabbed me. I sat down on the bed and stared into space and listened, and I cried. When the song ended, it started again. And again. And again.
The player was stuck. On that song. So I sat there and took it all in. I must have sat there for 30 minutes, just listening to that song. The guys came back. He walked in the room, saw me sitting there, crying. He heard the song, sat with me. Stared with me. I said, "it's stuck." He said "yeah".
The player was stuck. On that song. So I sat there and took it all in. I must have sat there for 30 minutes, just listening to that song. The guys came back. He walked in the room, saw me sitting there, crying. He heard the song, sat with me. Stared with me. I said, "it's stuck." He said "yeah".
piece 9
I ended up moving in with him, after fighting with my mom, moving in with my dad, fighting with my dad, and last but not least, accidentally seeing pieces of my brother's skull that should have been buried with him but weren't found until after the fact. My dad showed them to me one night when he was drunk. Gray. Broken pieces. Skull fragments. Belonging to my little brother. His head, the head that I loved and cared for so much, part of his body, the body that I held and cared for as a baby and a toddler and a young boy. He fell asleep in my arms so many times.
piece 8
I was informed by my dad that the guy I was seeing could not sit with the family at the funeral, and that my ex was to sit with us, for appearances and to reduce the amount of questions and to keep it simple. And so that's the way it was.
My guy did come, he was one of the many people who had to stand, lining the walls, there was no room to sit. I had to play like I didn't know him. My dad hadn't met him, but he had heard I had a boyfriend. I tried to delay their meeting for as long as possible, not for their sake, but for my own. I didn't want to hear it. He had already told me how foolish it was for my ex & I to split. I said "There was a lack of love, Daddy" to which he said, "There's more to marriage than love."
That's like saying there's more to a house than it's foundation. You can't do without it.
I got the full lecture. Especially how foolish it was to leave a family with such assets. Not kidding. As if that means anything to me. As if living on an estate floats my boat. I should have suggested that HE go and marry my ex and enjoy some inheritance.
I avoided my dad at all costs during this time. He and my mom had divorced a few years earlier, and he was a miserable man.
A few more days of this carrying on, these miserable people coming in and out of my mom's house. I kept myself occupied by moving in. Loaded up all my stuff almost overnight and came and lived with her. Myself, my daughter, and my dog. We three camped out in my brother's room, which had not yet been emptied. It still smelled like him.
Finally the house cleared out, people stopped coming. My mom took apart my brother's bedroom and cleaned it out. It was now officially my room. Which was strange, because just a few months before, we had talked about converting my mom's garage into an apartment for me and my daughter. It was an option that I was seriously considering. At the time, I had a little townhome that I loved, but wasn't sure if I could afford it much longer. So the garage idea sounded good, but one day, as I looked at the garage, I sensed that I would never live there. I walked to my brother's room, he wasn't home. I opened his closet doors, and envisioned my things. I knew that his room would be mine, soon. Not knowing why. I thought, well maybe he's going to go stay with my dad.
All of this might sound totally normal and not so much to deal with, but I was newly separated and getting used to being financially independent, pretty scary, then add to that this new chaotic relationship I was in. Now this, my brother's death. And now, moving in with my mom. Everything was upside down, I had no clue, I was numb. I couldn't feel anything. I was freezing over inside.
My guy did come, he was one of the many people who had to stand, lining the walls, there was no room to sit. I had to play like I didn't know him. My dad hadn't met him, but he had heard I had a boyfriend. I tried to delay their meeting for as long as possible, not for their sake, but for my own. I didn't want to hear it. He had already told me how foolish it was for my ex & I to split. I said "There was a lack of love, Daddy" to which he said, "There's more to marriage than love."
That's like saying there's more to a house than it's foundation. You can't do without it.
I got the full lecture. Especially how foolish it was to leave a family with such assets. Not kidding. As if that means anything to me. As if living on an estate floats my boat. I should have suggested that HE go and marry my ex and enjoy some inheritance.
I avoided my dad at all costs during this time. He and my mom had divorced a few years earlier, and he was a miserable man.
A few more days of this carrying on, these miserable people coming in and out of my mom's house. I kept myself occupied by moving in. Loaded up all my stuff almost overnight and came and lived with her. Myself, my daughter, and my dog. We three camped out in my brother's room, which had not yet been emptied. It still smelled like him.
Finally the house cleared out, people stopped coming. My mom took apart my brother's bedroom and cleaned it out. It was now officially my room. Which was strange, because just a few months before, we had talked about converting my mom's garage into an apartment for me and my daughter. It was an option that I was seriously considering. At the time, I had a little townhome that I loved, but wasn't sure if I could afford it much longer. So the garage idea sounded good, but one day, as I looked at the garage, I sensed that I would never live there. I walked to my brother's room, he wasn't home. I opened his closet doors, and envisioned my things. I knew that his room would be mine, soon. Not knowing why. I thought, well maybe he's going to go stay with my dad.
All of this might sound totally normal and not so much to deal with, but I was newly separated and getting used to being financially independent, pretty scary, then add to that this new chaotic relationship I was in. Now this, my brother's death. And now, moving in with my mom. Everything was upside down, I had no clue, I was numb. I couldn't feel anything. I was freezing over inside.
piece 7
A sea of people, waves of relatives and friends, people crying, people bringing food and plants and a ton of cards in the mail, me trying to get maybe a minute of sleep in my sister's room, but unable, due to this sea of people flowing all through the house and knowing no boundaries at all. There was no escape, this was real, my brother was dead.
I remember getting out of bed and opening the door, only to see my cousin, same age as my brother, on one knee, head down, hand on brother's door. He was sobbing. I looked away and walked into the living room, pushed my way through people, they all tried to hug me, they all had red swollen eyes and they all asked how I was doing, good night there was no escape at all, this was a nightmare, it was surreal, and again, the fact remained, my brother was dead.
My daughter had spent New Year's Eve with her dad, at his mom's house. She was 6 years old. We weren't sure how to tell her that her uncle was dead, how do you tell a child that? Would she get it? I had told her before about life and death and heaven. Her dad asked me how I wanted to do it, I said it should come from me. So they drove to my mom's house and he brought her in. I watched her little face as she came into the house and saw all the people there, yet it was strangely quiet. I took her into my sister's room and she and her dad sat on the bed, he put his loving arm around her and I knelt down in front of her. Took her little hand in mine and said, "honey, do you remember everything I told you about when people die? How we don't see them anymore, but we will see them again one day, when we go to heaven?" She nodded. I told her, "well, your uncle has gone to heaven."
She looked puzzled. I didn't know what to expect. Tears? Questions? Disbelief?
She sat there for a minute, then said, "ok", then hopped off the bed and went into the living room, with all the people. I knew right there and then that she would not process this until years later, and I was right. I was concerned but I let it go for the time being.
I thanked my ex and he hugged me and held me, and we stood there in my sister's room and sobbed for what seemed like an eternity.
I remember getting out of bed and opening the door, only to see my cousin, same age as my brother, on one knee, head down, hand on brother's door. He was sobbing. I looked away and walked into the living room, pushed my way through people, they all tried to hug me, they all had red swollen eyes and they all asked how I was doing, good night there was no escape at all, this was a nightmare, it was surreal, and again, the fact remained, my brother was dead.
My daughter had spent New Year's Eve with her dad, at his mom's house. She was 6 years old. We weren't sure how to tell her that her uncle was dead, how do you tell a child that? Would she get it? I had told her before about life and death and heaven. Her dad asked me how I wanted to do it, I said it should come from me. So they drove to my mom's house and he brought her in. I watched her little face as she came into the house and saw all the people there, yet it was strangely quiet. I took her into my sister's room and she and her dad sat on the bed, he put his loving arm around her and I knelt down in front of her. Took her little hand in mine and said, "honey, do you remember everything I told you about when people die? How we don't see them anymore, but we will see them again one day, when we go to heaven?" She nodded. I told her, "well, your uncle has gone to heaven."
She looked puzzled. I didn't know what to expect. Tears? Questions? Disbelief?
She sat there for a minute, then said, "ok", then hopped off the bed and went into the living room, with all the people. I knew right there and then that she would not process this until years later, and I was right. I was concerned but I let it go for the time being.
I thanked my ex and he hugged me and held me, and we stood there in my sister's room and sobbed for what seemed like an eternity.
piece 6
New Year's Eve, 1997. So much for no bad memories. My younger brother, age 17, died in a car accident that night.
There's no more to say on this piece, this piece of glass, this shard, this part of a life that was in the breaking.
There's no more to say on this piece, this piece of glass, this shard, this part of a life that was in the breaking.
piece 5
And so for the next 2 months, we got together every weekend and sometimes during the week. I had a job at a craft store at the time, and I went from innocent, energetic newly single mom with a good attitude to exhausted, hung over, and a compromised conscience from hell, all in about 3 weeks time. I never slept anymore.
We met in October. By December I was a wreck. I spent 2 months with this guy and by now I realized he might not be good for me. Not so sure I was good for him, either. It dawned on me that we were somewhat using each other. It dawned on me that neither of us were ready for a real relationship. It occured to me that when you meet a guy who just found out his wife was cheating, chances are, you're not #1 in his head, she is, and you're rebound-stuff. Or whatever. It occured to me that I had no idea what I was doing or what I was getting into. I realized that his temper was NOT interesting, after all. I found out what it was to be accused of things that I couldn't even begin to do. I was accused of this and that and found myself defending myself constantly. Finally, I decided, maybe this whole thing is headed nowhere fast, and maybe I should get out of it. For his sake as well as mine. I realized that my energies needed to go to more important things, such as, but not limited to, my job and my daughter.
But I couldn't break up just yet, cause New Year's Eve was here, and I wanted to have a good time, with no trouble and no bad memories and all that.
We met in October. By December I was a wreck. I spent 2 months with this guy and by now I realized he might not be good for me. Not so sure I was good for him, either. It dawned on me that we were somewhat using each other. It dawned on me that neither of us were ready for a real relationship. It occured to me that when you meet a guy who just found out his wife was cheating, chances are, you're not #1 in his head, she is, and you're rebound-stuff. Or whatever. It occured to me that I had no idea what I was doing or what I was getting into. I realized that his temper was NOT interesting, after all. I found out what it was to be accused of things that I couldn't even begin to do. I was accused of this and that and found myself defending myself constantly. Finally, I decided, maybe this whole thing is headed nowhere fast, and maybe I should get out of it. For his sake as well as mine. I realized that my energies needed to go to more important things, such as, but not limited to, my job and my daughter.
But I couldn't break up just yet, cause New Year's Eve was here, and I wanted to have a good time, with no trouble and no bad memories and all that.
piece 4
So, eventually the dad was busted sometime in the mid-80's. They knew it was only a matter of time, in fact, the family was staying in Cancun after hearing that the powers-that-be were hot on his trail. It happened one day. The dad was taken first, back to the States. The rest stayed behind for a bit, then they went too, for the trial.
I heard all about it. The stress of the trial and how it was coped with. It was too much for my guy, so he went back to the hotel room each day & hung out there, alone. I think he was 13 or 14. The dad was convicted and sent to prison. But here's the thing: because a brother-in-law was involved, the mom's family was angry that he was busted too, so they ended up making sure the law got the mom as well. Their own flesh and blood! The mom was convicted on aiding and abetting? Whatever you call it when you know but don't tell. So, off she went as well, but only for a short time. The dad ended up in for a long time.
The grandmother agreed to letting the oldest boy stay with her, because he was old enough to work. The other two were sent to an orphan's home, where they were yelled at in God's name. I heard about the paddlings and the forced Bible reading and all this strict stuff. On one occasion, my guy was about to get another whipping, when his older brother came in the room and tackled the head guy. All kinds of trouble followed. I think the older brother was kicked out of the place? Or, escaped? Either way, he ran away. Made his way to California where his own trouble happened, but I can't include here, cause it's not about him.
So, my guy was alone in there. Finally he ran away too. First stop was the oldest brother's, who now had his own place. This didn't work. Fighting, etc. My guy was about 16 by now. He hit the road. First made his way to Galveston, where he lived for a few years when he was young. Then made his way to Houston. Who knows where he stayed or how he got by. He told me, but it's all a fuzzy blur in my head. Finally, when he was 18 or so, in Houston, he met this woman. An older, motherly type. In a diner I think?
She asked him all kinds of questions and befriended him. Next thing you know, he's riding back up this way with her. She took him in, as her own. She had a REALLY country place, sort of in the woods, in this town (the one I drove to and got lost in.) He stayed there for a couple years, and then met his friend. The friend ended up helping him out a whole lot, and the friends parents did too. Helped with some schooling and medical stuff and all that.
Eventually he got somewhat stable in this town and met this girl at work, they got pregnant and married. Separated and that's when his friends took him to the fair, to get his mind off of things, and that's where we met.
I heard all about it. The stress of the trial and how it was coped with. It was too much for my guy, so he went back to the hotel room each day & hung out there, alone. I think he was 13 or 14. The dad was convicted and sent to prison. But here's the thing: because a brother-in-law was involved, the mom's family was angry that he was busted too, so they ended up making sure the law got the mom as well. Their own flesh and blood! The mom was convicted on aiding and abetting? Whatever you call it when you know but don't tell. So, off she went as well, but only for a short time. The dad ended up in for a long time.
The grandmother agreed to letting the oldest boy stay with her, because he was old enough to work. The other two were sent to an orphan's home, where they were yelled at in God's name. I heard about the paddlings and the forced Bible reading and all this strict stuff. On one occasion, my guy was about to get another whipping, when his older brother came in the room and tackled the head guy. All kinds of trouble followed. I think the older brother was kicked out of the place? Or, escaped? Either way, he ran away. Made his way to California where his own trouble happened, but I can't include here, cause it's not about him.
So, my guy was alone in there. Finally he ran away too. First stop was the oldest brother's, who now had his own place. This didn't work. Fighting, etc. My guy was about 16 by now. He hit the road. First made his way to Galveston, where he lived for a few years when he was young. Then made his way to Houston. Who knows where he stayed or how he got by. He told me, but it's all a fuzzy blur in my head. Finally, when he was 18 or so, in Houston, he met this woman. An older, motherly type. In a diner I think?
She asked him all kinds of questions and befriended him. Next thing you know, he's riding back up this way with her. She took him in, as her own. She had a REALLY country place, sort of in the woods, in this town (the one I drove to and got lost in.) He stayed there for a couple years, and then met his friend. The friend ended up helping him out a whole lot, and the friends parents did too. Helped with some schooling and medical stuff and all that.
Eventually he got somewhat stable in this town and met this girl at work, they got pregnant and married. Separated and that's when his friends took him to the fair, to get his mind off of things, and that's where we met.
piece 3
He was staying with some friends, turns out he had just moved in with them when we met. Days earlier, he had found out that his wife was having an affair. I too had just recently separated, but in my case, we had already filed for divorce. It was a done deal, it had been a long time coming, and although painful, it was also a relief. Not so with him. He was a mess. Maybe this is why I was so attracted to him. He was like a time bomb, but without the time. He went off all the time.
I got the whole scoop on his childhood, and I couldn't get enough of it. I'd be like, "tell me more!", all the time, which made him laugh. He said I made him feel good about himself. This made me feel good. Feel good, feel good, feel good. That was the name of the game. If it felt good, it happened. As if that's how to live. I learned that, in fact, that kind of thinking gets you in all kinds of trouble for sure.
When he first told me his story, I didn't believe it. Then, over time, I realized he was telling the truth. All of it was confirmed when I met his two brothers. The older brother has all the saved newspaper clippings about the trial and conviction of his dad.
Seems that he started off living the high life. Lots of money. His dad had some shady business going. Got the brother-in-law in on it, and they made loads of money. Only problem was, they could only operate for so long before they had to up and leave and go to a new place. I heard all about how he never knew where they would live next, and how sometimes he just remembers being carried to the car in the middle of the night, still half-asleep. Car was all loaded up and ready to go, and they'd drive across the country to the new home that the dad had already set up ahead of time. It was an ongoing thing.
He's lived all over. Sometimes they had to hide. Fortunate for them, the mom had a sister who lived in Cancun, and sometimes they'd go there. I heard all about the boys ordering the servants around, calling from the beach on walkie talkies? (mobile phones? What did they have back then? I don't remember what he said but I know it was cordless) and having them bring cheeseburgers down to them. On the beach. This bothered me. I asked him if he knew how wrong that was, that a kid should use his own two feet and go make his own food, but he said his parents never told him any different. I believe it.
He said that school was not so good. Moving so much prevented forming any real and lasting friendships. Add to that, he was the type of kid who needed individualized attention in class, and he didn't get it. He said he finally just sort of gave up. Don't get me wrong, he's got his own form of genius. Just not the school kind. Sometimes I wonder if we really learn anything of value in school, now that I've spent enough time in the real world. Book smart is worthless when it comes down to it. Trust me, I know.
He always had a sitter. Parents usually gone. At one point in time, his parents drove the boys to another town and left them there to live with a sitter for several months. This woman took good care of them and became somewhat of a mom to them. I've seen her house. Small, old woodframe. She wasn't home. She's an elderly black woman and she loved him. He spoke of her so fondly that it made me get all teary eyed. Just to think of it, that a child would have to experience this. He said it was all good. I just don't know. I said this resulted in him having abandonment issues. He said, ..."what?"
His upbringing was so different than my own. I had never met a person like him. He was a strange one, that's for sure. I told myself he was stranger than me.
Made me feel better.
That's probably the whole thing, right there. The very fact that being around him made me feel like I had it together. In my little fragile world. I was good, he was bad, that's what I told myself. I have wisdom to share, he needs me. He needs comforting. Actually, come to think of it, he said that one time. We were talking about men and women, and he said, "That's what men want, more than anything. Comfort. A man looks to a woman for comfort, and he goes to the one who gives it to him."
Is this true?
I always thought it was sex they were after.
I got the whole scoop on his childhood, and I couldn't get enough of it. I'd be like, "tell me more!", all the time, which made him laugh. He said I made him feel good about himself. This made me feel good. Feel good, feel good, feel good. That was the name of the game. If it felt good, it happened. As if that's how to live. I learned that, in fact, that kind of thinking gets you in all kinds of trouble for sure.
When he first told me his story, I didn't believe it. Then, over time, I realized he was telling the truth. All of it was confirmed when I met his two brothers. The older brother has all the saved newspaper clippings about the trial and conviction of his dad.
Seems that he started off living the high life. Lots of money. His dad had some shady business going. Got the brother-in-law in on it, and they made loads of money. Only problem was, they could only operate for so long before they had to up and leave and go to a new place. I heard all about how he never knew where they would live next, and how sometimes he just remembers being carried to the car in the middle of the night, still half-asleep. Car was all loaded up and ready to go, and they'd drive across the country to the new home that the dad had already set up ahead of time. It was an ongoing thing.
He's lived all over. Sometimes they had to hide. Fortunate for them, the mom had a sister who lived in Cancun, and sometimes they'd go there. I heard all about the boys ordering the servants around, calling from the beach on walkie talkies? (mobile phones? What did they have back then? I don't remember what he said but I know it was cordless) and having them bring cheeseburgers down to them. On the beach. This bothered me. I asked him if he knew how wrong that was, that a kid should use his own two feet and go make his own food, but he said his parents never told him any different. I believe it.
He said that school was not so good. Moving so much prevented forming any real and lasting friendships. Add to that, he was the type of kid who needed individualized attention in class, and he didn't get it. He said he finally just sort of gave up. Don't get me wrong, he's got his own form of genius. Just not the school kind. Sometimes I wonder if we really learn anything of value in school, now that I've spent enough time in the real world. Book smart is worthless when it comes down to it. Trust me, I know.
He always had a sitter. Parents usually gone. At one point in time, his parents drove the boys to another town and left them there to live with a sitter for several months. This woman took good care of them and became somewhat of a mom to them. I've seen her house. Small, old woodframe. She wasn't home. She's an elderly black woman and she loved him. He spoke of her so fondly that it made me get all teary eyed. Just to think of it, that a child would have to experience this. He said it was all good. I just don't know. I said this resulted in him having abandonment issues. He said, ..."what?"
His upbringing was so different than my own. I had never met a person like him. He was a strange one, that's for sure. I told myself he was stranger than me.
Made me feel better.
That's probably the whole thing, right there. The very fact that being around him made me feel like I had it together. In my little fragile world. I was good, he was bad, that's what I told myself. I have wisdom to share, he needs me. He needs comforting. Actually, come to think of it, he said that one time. We were talking about men and women, and he said, "That's what men want, more than anything. Comfort. A man looks to a woman for comfort, and he goes to the one who gives it to him."
Is this true?
I always thought it was sex they were after.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
piece 2
I had only been separated for about a month? I think. And I had been married for 6 & 1/2 years. This was exciting and new, and he was the strangest specimen one could find. I didn't mind the fact that his truck wasn't running, no problem for me. I drove to see him, I wanted the drive, I wanted to feel the night air on my face. And I did. About an hour later I was there. But lost. In his town, but lost. As usual. Of course I was lost.
So I pull over and find myself at a public park. I just sat there for a minute and looked at the directions on my paper. Somehow I got all turned around, and it was dark, and now I had no clue where I was. I looked up and saw some women walking with some kids. I got out of the car, and asked them, "hey, can ya'll help me? Can you tell me where this is?" They took the sheet of paper and read it, shook their heads no, then gave it back to me. I said, "It's a country place, like, sort of by itself, it's a trailer..." They just stared at me. I didn't know that I was in a place where that was a common thing. Sort of like asking someone you meet that's from a different country if they know such-and-such and getting that look from them that reminds you how idiotic it is to ask such a thing. I know, because I've done it.
Completely confused, I turn around and go back down the main road and pulled into a convenience store to use the pay phone. While I was putting the quarters in, I see lights flashing and hear a truck pull up right behind me. I turned around, and there he was. He was laughing at me. Still relative strangers and he's already laughing at me. I asked him how he found me, and he said, "it's sort of hard to get lost around here...you gotta try really hard to do it. There's only one main street..." So what. That means nothing to me. Then he said, "I had a hunch you were lost, and I also was pretty sure I'd find you here." That wasn't the last time he found me. It happened several more times until it turned into a thing.
I think that night we all went to a bar with his friends. It was a country place. I was in a daze. What was I doing here? I had margarita after margarita and just sat there. Not much fun. I still hadn't cut loose.
He & I went to the lake, walked around, until we came to a huge old oak tree. One look at it and I knew my fate. Like a kid in junior high, I knew I was about to be kissed. And I was. The tree just drew us in under it's branches, and just like that, with no warning, it happened. The kickoff. That's when it started. That one kiss.
It sealed us together and started us on a chaotic journey. We became addicted to each other. That night, we went back to his place. The usual, small talk, a few more kisses, showed me his cd's, met the cat. Then I had to go. It was late. We stood on the front deck and kissed goodnight. Next thing you know, we're in bed. Totally. All the way. Nothing in between. Just like that. We went from a kiss on the porch to ...well, you know... it all happened so fast. And I am to blame more than him. I was like a little creature that had been caged for years, finally set free. Or at least that's how I felt.
So that's how our first date went.
It had been so long since I had felt what it was like to be held, all night long. He did. He held me. No, we were not in love yet, and sometimes I wonder if we ever were. Who knows. But we slept together like two lost hungry souls. It satisfied me.
I was woken up the next morning by the sound of a loud truck. He was still asleep. I leaned over and peeked out the blinds. There was a tow truck backing up and the guy was hooking it up to his truck! I sat up and woke him and told him. You know what he said? Without even opening his eyes, he goes, "Good, finally, it's about time they get it over with..."
I just sat there, with the sheet wrapped around me. I watched him as he fell back asleep. I took another look at what was happening outside. And another look at him.
Fell even harder for him, at that moment.
So I pull over and find myself at a public park. I just sat there for a minute and looked at the directions on my paper. Somehow I got all turned around, and it was dark, and now I had no clue where I was. I looked up and saw some women walking with some kids. I got out of the car, and asked them, "hey, can ya'll help me? Can you tell me where this is?" They took the sheet of paper and read it, shook their heads no, then gave it back to me. I said, "It's a country place, like, sort of by itself, it's a trailer..." They just stared at me. I didn't know that I was in a place where that was a common thing. Sort of like asking someone you meet that's from a different country if they know such-and-such and getting that look from them that reminds you how idiotic it is to ask such a thing. I know, because I've done it.
Completely confused, I turn around and go back down the main road and pulled into a convenience store to use the pay phone. While I was putting the quarters in, I see lights flashing and hear a truck pull up right behind me. I turned around, and there he was. He was laughing at me. Still relative strangers and he's already laughing at me. I asked him how he found me, and he said, "it's sort of hard to get lost around here...you gotta try really hard to do it. There's only one main street..." So what. That means nothing to me. Then he said, "I had a hunch you were lost, and I also was pretty sure I'd find you here." That wasn't the last time he found me. It happened several more times until it turned into a thing.
I think that night we all went to a bar with his friends. It was a country place. I was in a daze. What was I doing here? I had margarita after margarita and just sat there. Not much fun. I still hadn't cut loose.
He & I went to the lake, walked around, until we came to a huge old oak tree. One look at it and I knew my fate. Like a kid in junior high, I knew I was about to be kissed. And I was. The tree just drew us in under it's branches, and just like that, with no warning, it happened. The kickoff. That's when it started. That one kiss.
It sealed us together and started us on a chaotic journey. We became addicted to each other. That night, we went back to his place. The usual, small talk, a few more kisses, showed me his cd's, met the cat. Then I had to go. It was late. We stood on the front deck and kissed goodnight. Next thing you know, we're in bed. Totally. All the way. Nothing in between. Just like that. We went from a kiss on the porch to ...well, you know... it all happened so fast. And I am to blame more than him. I was like a little creature that had been caged for years, finally set free. Or at least that's how I felt.
So that's how our first date went.
It had been so long since I had felt what it was like to be held, all night long. He did. He held me. No, we were not in love yet, and sometimes I wonder if we ever were. Who knows. But we slept together like two lost hungry souls. It satisfied me.
I was woken up the next morning by the sound of a loud truck. He was still asleep. I leaned over and peeked out the blinds. There was a tow truck backing up and the guy was hooking it up to his truck! I sat up and woke him and told him. You know what he said? Without even opening his eyes, he goes, "Good, finally, it's about time they get it over with..."
I just sat there, with the sheet wrapped around me. I watched him as he fell back asleep. I took another look at what was happening outside. And another look at him.
Fell even harder for him, at that moment.
piece 1
The second phone call should have been enough to warn me. He screamed into the phone, F**K YOU!!!
Silence. From both of us. Then I hung up. I walked over to the couch and sat down. I thought about this guy I had just met, a few days ago. It was obvious he had some issues. Some kind of freakish anger that obviously came out accidentally. You don't say that kind of thing to a stranger.
We had met earlier that week at the state fair. We exchanged numbers and talked about going out that weekend. The night we met, when we both got home we immediately got on the phone and talked for hours. The phone bill was horrible. So now, it was thursday night. We had known each other for two days. We talked a little, then the outburst. I think it had to do with something about me saying I can't do last minute plans, I have a kid, you have to let me know ahead of time so I can make arrangements. That's what did it. He screamed it into the phone.
So I sat there on the couch and thought about it. Well, that's a red flag if I ever did see one. But what on earth...why the anger... what on earth did he have going on in his head?
And so it began. I started to fall in love. From that moment on.
I had already turned my ringer off. After hanging up on him. But now I looked at the phone and knew it was ringing. I picked it up and said "hello" without even hearing a ring. He was there. He was apologizing profusely. I told him it was ok, I understood. The truth is, I didn't, but I wanted to. I was fascinated.
We got together the next night.
I'm making myself write this, because it's something I swore I'd never do. All this happened a decade ago. I'm 37 now and faring just fine. All things considered, looking back, it wasn't all that bad. Just bad for me, in light of my own very limited frame of worldly reference. It broke me. Anyway, to someone else, all of this might have been nothing. Trivial. Piece of cake. But not for me. I come from somewhat of a sheltered upbringing. I am a Christian, and I was then, too. That's what messes with my head so much about all of this. But that's another story.
I hope you enjoy reading my mess. I don't know how it's going to go. I don't know how deep I can get with it and how honest. We'll see. All I'm doing here is telling it like it was.
Silence. From both of us. Then I hung up. I walked over to the couch and sat down. I thought about this guy I had just met, a few days ago. It was obvious he had some issues. Some kind of freakish anger that obviously came out accidentally. You don't say that kind of thing to a stranger.
We had met earlier that week at the state fair. We exchanged numbers and talked about going out that weekend. The night we met, when we both got home we immediately got on the phone and talked for hours. The phone bill was horrible. So now, it was thursday night. We had known each other for two days. We talked a little, then the outburst. I think it had to do with something about me saying I can't do last minute plans, I have a kid, you have to let me know ahead of time so I can make arrangements. That's what did it. He screamed it into the phone.
So I sat there on the couch and thought about it. Well, that's a red flag if I ever did see one. But what on earth...why the anger... what on earth did he have going on in his head?
And so it began. I started to fall in love. From that moment on.
I had already turned my ringer off. After hanging up on him. But now I looked at the phone and knew it was ringing. I picked it up and said "hello" without even hearing a ring. He was there. He was apologizing profusely. I told him it was ok, I understood. The truth is, I didn't, but I wanted to. I was fascinated.
We got together the next night.
I'm making myself write this, because it's something I swore I'd never do. All this happened a decade ago. I'm 37 now and faring just fine. All things considered, looking back, it wasn't all that bad. Just bad for me, in light of my own very limited frame of worldly reference. It broke me. Anyway, to someone else, all of this might have been nothing. Trivial. Piece of cake. But not for me. I come from somewhat of a sheltered upbringing. I am a Christian, and I was then, too. That's what messes with my head so much about all of this. But that's another story.
I hope you enjoy reading my mess. I don't know how it's going to go. I don't know how deep I can get with it and how honest. We'll see. All I'm doing here is telling it like it was.
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