Chapter 1

Rough Draft of Chapter 1: Early Childhood

I'd like to think that I had a relatively normal childhood. Playing with the neighborhood children, and of course, getting bullied by some of them. Mom was never much help for the bullying, preferring to tell me to ignore them. I can't count the number of days I'd cry myself to sleep over it. Then there were all the other things I ended up crying about, and eventually I learned that crying was no solace, and it didn't get me anywhere. It didn't stop me, but at least I stopped trying to use it for attention.
Once, when Mother got home from work, I told her how excited and happy I was that she was home, because I didn't have to miss her anymore. She was very angry, and seemed upset that I wouldn't miss her. I couldn't understand why I should miss her when she was right there. I was going to make her a pretty picture in my coloring book to tell her how sorry I was, and she decided to melt all my crayons into a candle instead. A few weeks later, she complained that I never colored for her anymore.
All of this was around the age of four, where one of the most life changing experiences I had as a pre-school child took place. After weeks of begging and pleading, Mother finally took me to the park to play with the other children. For what seemed like an eternity, she stood and pulled bits of the ground up in her fingertips underneath the monkey bars. I couldn't understand what she was doing. It was later revealed to me that she was pulling heroin needles out of the wood-chips.
As a child, I knew we weren't the best off in life. I knew we weren't the richest, most high class people, and that never bothered me. I had a family that was mostly functional, at least at the time, and I had my dad's side of the family on weekends and I loved seeing him. One year, he was taking me to see Santa at the mall, and we got into a car accident. I was so upset because he broke his shiny, red, Dodge Neon, and I loved that car so much. He'd drive me around until I fell asleep. I was so scared that he'd never be able to fix it, but sure enough, there it was a few weeks later, good as new. I was so happy, I hugged him so tight.
Life was always much better with my Dad than it ever was with Mom and Mike. I remember Mike was always insanely perverted, he would leave the bathroom door open, sleep naked sometimes, and a few times when I'd come downstairs, especially in the later days, he'd be laying on the couch with his robe open. I thought he thought I was my Mother, but I realize now that he was probably after me the whole time. I'll explain more of that in detail later, but for now, I'm leading up to my fifth birthday party, which for the longest time was my favorite. My Dad took me to the Baltimore Aquarium, and it was so much fun! I got to look at all the amazing animals and unique things in the gift shop, I never dreamed there could be such a thrilling place. At five, I was easily amused.
The downfall came the next day, which was possibly one of the worst days of my childhood. I got home from sleeping over at my Dad's house, and we pulled up behind a U-Haul outside my house. I was a little bit worried, but we had moved before, so I wasn't overly-upset. Yet. I walked up to my mom and she faced me with a question no five-year-old should have to answer.
“We're moving to Massachusetts. Do you want to stay with Michael and I, or your father?” she asked. I wasn't sure what to say. My dad hadn't said anything to me, which led me to believe he had no clue what was going on any more than I did, but he also did not look shocked to hear the question leave her lips. At this point, I thought, “What child wants one parent instead of two? Michael is like a father to me, too.” I never even remembered Danielle, my father's then-girlfriend. She never crossed my mind. I don't remember fighting with her as frequently as people say we did, but I also remember not particularly liking her, and writing a lot of angry poetry towards her as I grew up. I think I viewed her as a threat, as encroaching on my territory. My daddy was precious to me, and I never thought for a moment that she was playing nice.
So, I did what any five-year-old would do in the situation, I went with two parents over one, and left with Mother that day. I didn't realize I was leaving my entire family almost 400 miles away. We drove the 6 hours to Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and it was torture the entire way. My memory is a touch fuzzy on the subject, being as it was fourteen years ago. I remember meeting Suzanne and her son Scotty, friends of my mother, who we lived with for a short time before moving into our own duplex, where I spent the next nine years of my life.
Our neighbors next door changed frequently, from a Portuguese mother and son with communication issues (the mother spoke not a word of English!) right up to my Uncle Pete and his wife, Jennifer. Across the street was Aunty Fran and her son, Stephen. He was my best friend the whole time I lived on The Cape. Dennis was amazing. The smell of the ocean is probably what I miss the most, we weren't more than a mile or so from the beach. Life was far from the hell it would have become. At least, I was oblivious to it at that point.
Let me take a moment to describe the area, if I may. We lived in the left half of a duplex house at 10 Blackberry Ln, Dennis, Massachusetts. The road ended in a cul-de-sac, which is an insanely fancy word for a big circle with a tree in the middle of it. Our driveway was a simple half circle with a large, weed filled garden in the middle of it that the neighborhood children took great pride in destroying with their bikes and big wheels. In our yard there were several trees, and on the left side there was a small patch of trees separating us from our neighbors. A few of the trees were good for climbing, with low, thick branches, but mostly they were just decoration. The front garden was the real pride, with tulips and bleeding hearts, and so many pretty flowers. I watered it every time Mother let me, so proud to have such a beautiful thing in front of our house. We also had two large bushes, one on either side of the house, with those annoying, ugly green leaves. It needed to be trimmed every year so it wouldn't block the windows- even up to the second floor.
Out back, we had a large backyard behind our deck (which was in a perpetual state of falling apart) and my own small garden, which I kept in immaculate condition. Behind our yard was a patch of woods that led to the back of the houses on Captain Walsh Drive, the next street over. I would frequently ride my bike around those roads, because the neighborhood was so safe, and the people were friendly. Later, that would be the same neighborhood that I convinced to buy girl scout cookies and magazine subscriptions. Stephen and I got to know each other extremely well. Sometimes we would play in the living room, which was the first room entered when you came in through the front door. In the corner, Mike's computer lay in wait for his many hours of video gaming. The huge DVD rack laid against one wall, forever out of order no matter how many times I alphabetized it. The stairway held our VHS collection, towering up each step. Even if I tried I could never count how many times it fell down due to one of our clumsy steps.
If you managed to get up the stairs, watch out for the puddles and piles of dog waste that would come in later years. You'd be facing a linen closet and the upstairs bathroom. If you turned to the left, the door on your left-hand side would be the dreaded room of Mother, which you should avoid at all costs. In front of you would be my bedroom, which I'd still avoid if you don't have a hard hat and thick-soled shoes. Barbie shoes penetrating the soles of your feet. If you manage to avoid sharp things stuck in the 1982 shag carpeting, watch out for books falling off of stacks of toys, discarded after being played with. Once you get through these rooms, and head back downstairs, you're back in the living room.
Walking through the living room with it's huge fish tank and faded couch, you would enter our sunflower-yellow kitchen, which was in a constant state of mold or infested with cockroaches at every point I can remember. I did my best to clean it, but with the way Mother would leave her cigarettes in week (sometimes month) old coffee, it was a constant battle. Straight through the kitchen led to the porch, which I was nearly forbidden to be on. If you turned right instead of going straight through the kitchen, you'd face a dead wall, with the downstairs bathroom on your left, and the door to the basement on your right. I wouldn't suggest going down there, you might fall on your face if you weren't careful to step around the heaps of laundry. Then once you get down there, there's the mold, cobwebs, and dust to deal with, not to mention the mildew in the air, the chill, and the undoubtedly leaking washing machine. Plus, it was filled with stuff, and no matter how many times I cleaned it, it never stayed that way.
Stephen's house was much cleaner, but he and his mother and brother, Anthony, had insane amounts of clothes and other things everywhere, so while their house was cleaner, it was more cluttered. We had sanitary issues, they had organization issues. Because of this, neither of us were ever really embarrassed to have each other over. I played with Stephen almost every day. We rode our scooters together, would play video games in his room, and play with my Legos and pretend cash register in mine. We built forts, played with my many, many hamsters, and most of all, we were in love. I know that, looking back. We always swore love was evil and icky and we'd never be married or anything, but I think we were as close to in-love as two little kids could be. We were nigh inseparable. My mom used to say she'd pay us to pick the acorns out of her garden under the oak tree, a penny each. That was a lot to us, and there were what felt like millions of acorns. She sure did owe us a lot of money, and it seems like we were always short changed. Maybe that's just because I was a kid, and it was never enough, but that's how it seems.
Fran, Stephen, Mom, Mike, and I did lots of things together. The one thing I remember best is getting KFC and going to the pool at the Holiday Inn. That was one of my favorite things as a child. I remember sometimes playing martyr and saying Stephen got on my nerves and I didn't want to go, but looking back, I know the real reason: I was nervous around him (and probably Michael) in my bathing suit. I didn't like how snugly it fit, and I could never seem to get my mom to buy me a new one. Of course, I could never seem to get her to buy me any new clothes. I wore the same things year after year, over and over, and it never got any better. Holes were forming in clothes that I had to wear year in and year out, and the only time I got anything new was during the Summers with my Dad. Mother would always complain, saying that I came back fatter and with more stuff each year. I wondered if that was because she starved me and never bought me anything new, and she was jealous that Daddy did, but looking back, I can see that I was spoiled by one and neglected by the other.
I was worried that Mother couldn't take care of me, and one Summer, a few dollars at a time, I stole about $100 from Daddy to bring back to Mother. I thought if she had this, things would be better. I didn't know that not only was that not the case, but even if it was, $100 wasn't going to do much good. Daddy was mad, but he understood that I was trying to help. He trusted me again, but not much. Every year he would ask the same question.
“Do I have to lock up my wallet?” He'd ask. Every year, I told him no, and I never did that again. I loved Daddy more than life. I loved the life he let me live, he let me play and watch TV, took me to see my family, and it was amazing. Waiting on the front porch on the days Daddy would come get me for the Summer was the best thing in the world.