Daddy's girl

I'm 16 and I just got home and I'm soaking wet. I walked home in the rain after running out of the house with the intention of running away, of never ever going back to HER house. Things with my mom never went back to being good, to having a loving mother-daughter relationship. I carried the anger towards her with me and each time she attacked me, or ridiculed me, or ignored me, or falsely accused me, I added it to the anger pile.

I don't remember the fight, the reason that I ran out of the house. I remember going to my friend Lisa's house, down the hill about a mile. It was late afternoon, early evening when I started walking to her house and the dark clouds were just starting to roll in. I'd left everything behind and I didn't want to ever go home. I hated her and couldn't breathe in that house. I sat in Lisa's bedroom, crying, being angry and trying to figure out how to get the hell away from her. It was during the week, a school night even and Lisas mom came in and said it was time for me to go home.

It was dark and it was pouring. I wasn't offered a ride home (I had a truck & Lisas mom didn't know I hadn't driven over) and I didn't ask for one. I didn't know where I was going to go. I started walking up the hill, thinking that my great grandma lived half-way between Lisas house and our house, also that my grandparents lived just over the hill from her. My aunt and uncle lived at the bottom of the hill. I knew that whichever place I picked, they would all take me home, so I kept walking up the hill.

I got home and stood on the street, in the rain, looking at the small tan house. The lights were on casting a delicate glow around the closed curtains. I sighed and went through the gate, walked up the cement path to the porch, took a deep breath and opened the front door. My mom and dad looked up, my dad jumped up and started walking across the living room and my mom started yelling. My dad looked over at her and told her to just stop. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me, then walked me over to the rocking chair he'd been sitting in, sat down and pulled me onto his lap and just hugged me. He told my mom to go get towels and he held me, telling me that he was sorry, that he loved me, that he didn't know how to undo my hurt.

My mom threw the towels at us and I remember flinching. My dad wrapped the towels around me and we sat like that for what seemed like hours. I remember starting to feel achy and hot. He walked me to my room and I laid on my bed, in my clothes, and he covered me with blankets. He asked if I wanted him to stay with me, I don't remember answering him. I felt like a little tiny girl, small and helpless, defeated almost at having to go back to that house.

No slip & slide in the house!

We'd been bugging my mom all day to please please ppuuuuhhhhhllllleeeeeaaaazzzzzeeeeee take us to the pool. It's death-valley hot outside, none of our friends are outside playing and it's FREAKIN hot as hell and the metal on our bikes burns when we touch it. We don't have any grass in our yard, just dirt & rocks, so we can't have a slip n' slide, we can't play in the sprinklers and we can't have a small plastic pool; I guess all the rocks will tear up everything.

I think we wore her down because she finally says we can play in the water, in the bathtub. We ran to our room and put on our bathing suits (well I put on a bathing suit and my brother took his shoes and socks off, kept his shorts on). She filled up the tub about half full and gave us some squirt guns and other toys. I don't really remember playing with toys. I remember us sliding up and down the back of the tub. I remember the water making waves and us laughing as we slid through them.

One of us had the brilliant idea to add soap to the mix, what an awesome idea that was. Soap up the back of the tub, make it super slippery and then slide down into the crashing waves. SOOOOO much fun, laughing and splashing, cooling off. Then the bathroom door opened. The look on her face was not the happy laughing faces we had. She was pissed. In the midst of our splashing, we'd gotten water all over the floor. She grabbed my brother by the arm, jerked him out of the tub, wrapped a towel around him and set him on top of the washing machine. He was crying now.

I stood up, trying not to cry, not to be afraid of her. She yelled at me to clean the soap off the tub and WHAT IN THE HELL WERE YOU TWO THINKING???? LOOK AT ALL THE WATER ALL OVER THE FLOOR!!! I remember flinching, but she hadn't hit me, yet. She is yelling about having to clean up the water and having to wash the towels and WHAT IN THE HELL IS WRONG WITH US? WHY CAN'T WE JUST PLAY QUIETLY? WHY DID WE HAVE TO MAKE SUCH A HUGE MESS??

I'm almost 8, my brother is 6. My dad left a few days ago to go work in Saudi Arabia. My mom has been crying since he left. She is a stay-at-home-mom. She is fat and doesn't like to go anywhere. We stay at the house unless we need groceries.

She tells me to go to my room and sit on the bed and wait for her. I hear her rinsing the soap off of my brother. Then he comes into our bedroom and sits on his bed. He is crying and I go over to his bed and hug him, telling him it will be ok, don't cry. She yells at me from the bathroom to get back on my bed!!! I remember thinking how did she know? She yells at us to sit there and be quiet!! I hear her walking down the hall, away from us, towards her bedroom. I can't decide if I should be scared of the spanking thats coming or if I should be relieved that she went away.

I hear her rummaging in their bedroom, looking for the belt. My heart sinks and I get scared. My dad isn't here to stop her. My dad isn't here to step in. I can hear her coming back down the hall. She steps into our bedroom and tells me to get up. She tells me to turn around, and bend over. I'm already crying, telling her that we're sorry, that we'll clean up all the water, that we'll be good, that I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't. She grabs my shoulder, hard, turns me around and tells me to bend over NOW or its going to be worse.

I hear the belt smack me before I feel it. Its loud as it smacks against my butt and legs. I can hear the whooshing sound it makes through the air as she pulls it back and swings again. I can feel the sting on my legs, my bare legs. Its worse on my butt because I've still got my wet bathing suit on. I'm trying to cover my butt with my hands and she tells me to move them, I'm crying, telling her I'm sorry, trying to cover my legs and the belt hits my hands, my fingertips. I pull my hands to my chest and she keeps swinging. I don't know how many times the belt hit me.

I remember hearing her telling my brother to get off his bed and turn around. I crawl into the space between the foot of my bed and the closet. I put my face against my knees, trying to catch my breath, trying to make my fingers stop burning. It hurts sitting there, but I don't want to see my brother getting spanked or to see the crazy face she makes. The face that scares me, the face that makes me feel like she hates us. I remember sitting there thinking I hate her, I HATE her, she isn't my mom, she is Mollie and I HATE her.

I woke up and it was dark, so I got into bed. My brother was asleep in his bed sucking his thumb. I lay there wondering if we can run away, if she'd find us and spank us again. I miss my dad.

What IS it with the vampires?

Seriously! My first introduction to the fangs was on sesame street and well, we all know that Count Von Count is more, fuzzy, than hot. Then came Grandpa on The Munsters, the sarcastic old bat. Then came a brief mention of Bram Stokers Dracula when I was in 5th grade, that got voted down by the popular nerds in my honors English class in favor of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. The Lost Boys rocked my world, mostly because of "The Coreys". Then there was Buffy in the early 90's, totally lame. Then came Interview with a Vampire. I was 4 months pregnant with my son, we (my husband & I) were staying with my brother in Chandler (AZ) and it scared the crap out of me!

In October 1995, I'm put on bed rest, I'm 8 months pregnant with my son. I'm bored out of my mind! My mom was staying with me and she was reading Anne Rices The Mayfair Witches trilogy. I started reading the set and I was drawn in, I WANTED to be the one standing on the sidewalk looking at the house, wondering at the goings-on inside. I wanted Lasher to show up and steal me away into the unknown. I devoured the trilogy, then re-read them. The haunting descriptions of the houses and neighborhoods called to me. Then my son was born and life moved on.

Then came Queen of the Damned and OMFG, not only was Aaliyah hot as hell, but Lestat became THE hottest vampire to flit through my dreams. He stirred things up inside that I thought only belonged in books. How strange and strong the pull to become part of the darkside (the cookies aren't better). It is a fantasy that has been dancing on the edges of my sanity for years. Occasionally it will rear its head in, intimate moments of frenzy, and surprise my husband.

Then came Twilight and True Blood. I'm sure there were others in-between, but none that caught my attention. In all honesty, I really only like Twilight because of Jacob. I really wished that Bella had picked him. One can hope. I didn't even like True Blood when season 1 aired, my husband did. I saw the opening images and got grossed out. I skipped the entire season.

I was flipping through the channels one afternoon and caught part of PLASIR D'AMOUR. I was all like no way, this is NOT the same crap he was watching. I went on to HBO's on demand channel and spent the next few days watching season 1. I'd been seeing commercials about vampires voting and wanna-be vampires talking about vampire rights, but I had no idea what they were referring to. I kept thinking to myself "is this real? are there really people out there living like vampires?"

Now I'm a total fanger. I countdown to True Blood every Sunday during the season. I mourn it when the season ends. I talk about Sookie, Bill, Tara, Eric & even Godric like they are real. I told my husband that I'd totally let Eric bite me, chain me up and school me in vampire sex. What IS it with the vampires that bring this out in some of us? Is it the fantasy forbidden fruit?

My dad is with the camels

I'm 8 years old, we're living in the single wide trailer at the back of the trailer park, the trailer park we've lived in twice before. This time it's my mom, me and my brother. My dad has gone to work in Saudi Arabia, Riyadh to be exact. I remember seeing my mom sitting on their bed with an envelope in her hand, the envelope has red and blue diagonal stripes around the edges, and she is crying. She closes the door and I go outside to play with my brother.

My dad was gone for 9 months. I don't remember it being that long, but I was 8. I went to school, came home and played with my friends until dinner time. After dinner & dishes, we'd do homework. I don't remember watching much tv back then, just lots of playing outside or in the bedroom I shared with my younger brother. Cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, early 80's version of Rock Band (we had a red leather ottoman that my brother and I'd use for our drum and we'd sing Elvira as loud as we could), riding our bikes, making forts, playing in the sprinkler (my mom was very overweight and didn't like taking us to the pool).

My uncle, my moms younger brother, had given me his skateboard. It was a small wooden board with squeaky wheels, it wobbled when I rode it but it had the kewlest red wheels! There weren't any graphics painted on the board or any stickers, just pale wood and rusty, squeaky trucks (the parts that the wheels screw to). I loved that skateboard, even carried it with me on my bike. While my dad was gone I busted my mouth open on that skateboard.

We lived at the very back of the trailer park and the park/community area/pool was at the front of the park. On our bikes it took us a couple of minutes, walking maybe 5 to get there. That day I'd been riding the skateboard on my knees all over the park. I'd gone up to the park area because there were sidewalks that went through the park, around the outside of the pool fence, around the parking lot and looped back to the park. It was the perfect place for speed! Unless you hit one of the gaps between the squares of sidewalk, which I did. I was on my knees speeding around the corner when I hit the gap and flew off face first into the next square of sidewalk.

My mom said she could hear my screaming. I had knocked out one of my front teeth (the left one next to the very front one) and the other tooth had gone through my bottom lip. I got up, dripping blood and started walking home, screaming and crying. My mom said it was awful because she could hear me, but she had no idea where I was. I remember seeing her come around the corner and I started running, spitting blood out as I ran. She said it was one of the scariest moments because I was covered in blood. I think my nose was bleeding too. I still have a scar on my bottom lip from that flip over.

That night my dad called. I heard my mom telling him what happened as I sat on the couch with a bag of ice on my mouth. He made a joke about me spitting like the camels. Thats what I remember about the time my dad was working in Saudi Arabia, with the camels.

Crazy cousins

We're sitting at my grandparents house, its Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, I can't remember. We're sitting around the table, almost all of us are here. My uncle has taken my aunt home to get ready for her shift at the hospital (she's an RN). They're youngest daughter, the crazy one, is late. I remember her walking into the house, with her boyfriend. She is going through one of her phases and is pretending that she is a mexican gangster. I remember thinking that she is a dumbass white girl playing a role, looking the fool.

They come sit at the table and she's rambling on about some girl that she'd seen talking to her boyfriend, that she's late because she had to teach her a lesson. She is young, full of emotions and loud. My grandpa humors her and asks to hear the story while the rest of us are looking around at each other, some of us rolling our eyes. We know that crazy is going to spill a story, a story that will be embellished with how awesome tough she is. I can't wait to get away from the drama.

She starts telling her story about how she saw the girl downtown, made her boyfriend pull over and jumped out of his truck. The girl saw her and started rolling up the windows of the truck she was sitting in. So crazy cousin jumps into the back of the truck, kicks in the sliding window and reaches into the cab, grabbing the girl and pulling her out through the back window. Then proceeds to kick the shit out of her. Wow. Small town stupid on display on main street. She is actually proud of herself and how she represented her colors, taught that whore a lesson.

On the way home that night, my boyfriend and I are talking, thankful that we're only in town for another day. I want to pack and drive home, but its the holiday and we've promised to spend the next day with his family. His family is twice the size of mine and drunk. Mine's crazy. Heads or tails?

Arizona monsoon memories

I'm 8 and my brother is 7, it's summer monsoon season in Arizona and the sky has just finished dumping hours of rain on us. We're living in the trailer park, again. This time in the back of the park, in an old metal single wide with even older wooden steps leading up to the front door. My brother and I can't wait to get outside to play in the deep water that's right out front our trailer.

We're both in cut-offs, my brothers got a fresh buzz cut and my waist length hair is pulled back in double french braids. We race down the rickety steps, grab our bikes off the porch and splash into the swirling muddy water. The water that has trash floating in it along with tumble weeds and broken wooden fence pieces. We don't see the trash, just the deep water that is running past our trailer.

The road that we're riding on dips down, creating a bowl for the water. At the bottom of the bowl is a grate and this is where the water is swirling into. As we ride through the muddy water we have to stand up on our pedals so that our faces don't get wet, the water is that deep. I remember looking over at my brother, his white buzzed hair splattered with mud, seeing the huge grin (missing a bottom tooth) as he rides through the chest deep current. I remember looking up at the grey sky, happy that we'd gotten the rain, the rain that gave us the muddy water to play in.