Riding Standing Up

by Sparrow Spaulding

  Every morning I asked Samantha what we were having for dinner so I knew if I should be full of dread all day or not. I tried to mask the taste and smell with gobs of ketchup, but to no avail. Nothing took away the dirty, rotten fish taste. I also tried to pick out the onions but would invariably miss a few which would instantly cue my gag reflex when they hit the back of my throat. I heaved through many dinners. Mikey was even worse and would gag and spit his food right onto his plate. He always caused the drama. I was more of a quiet protestor.

  Making the transition every summer was tough in many ways. Living with Mom was a true free-for-all. Our house was almost always a disaster, we didn’t bathe regularly, and could pretty much do what we wanted as long as we didn’t disturb Mom’s coffee and cigarette time, which was most of the time. Once I had dropped a toy in between the couch cushions so I decided to lift one up to search for it. By this time Mom had taken the plastic off the furniture which made it slightly more comfortable and worn. When I lifted the cushion I froze. There were hundreds of tiny little yellow worms wiggling around everywhere.

  “Mom!” I screamed “Mom come here!” I was used to messes. I even had lice once. But this was truly alarming.

  “What is it, Sparrow?” Mom was annoyed at having to get up from the table and leave her cigarette. I had no words so I just pointed, still holding the couch cushion. “Oh, those are just maggots,” Mom said so casually you would have thought they were jellybeans. “Go get the vacuum.” I did as I was told and when I came back she showed me how to use the extended hose piece and suck those little maggots right up.

  “Like this,” she said as she slowly moved the hose back and forth. By this time she had taken all three cushions off and the maggots had taken over. They were sucked up rather easily and made a noise that I still can’t quite describe as they were ascending to their demise. I stood back, watching the whole thing, feeling faint.

  “See, all gone. No big deal.” Mom left the vacuum in the middle of the living room and went back to her cigarette. It was shocking since Mom would go into an all-out panic and scream fest if a wasp or hornet got into the house, yet she was completely unfazed by the most disgusting, squirmy critters that turn into equally disgusting flies.

  Being at Dad’s couldn’t have been a more opposite experience. Everything was perfectly sterile and in its place. No wonder Samantha scrubbed us down as soon as we got there. After we were squeaky clean she went through our suitcases and made various faces of disgust as she held up each holey, stained article of clothing.

  “Where are all the clothes we bought you for Christmas?” Samantha asked. I had no idea, as Mom would just stuff clothes in the blue IGA green stamp suitcase with the broken handle and who knew if they were even clean? “Well, Jeff, we’re gonna have to take them shopping,” she said to my dad, disappointed.

  I always felt like such a burden. Dad lived in really nice homes with luxury cars and top of the line furniture and yet they always talked about how they didn’t have any money. I never understood how that worked. They never had me pray for food so I thought they were rich and I felt like their surroundings were way too nice for me. It was as if I was Annie and they were renting me for the summer out of charity only I couldn’t wait to go back to the orphanage where I could at least be my dirty little self and stand on my bed (with shoes on) and belt out “It’s a Hard Knock Life.”

  During one of these summer visits when Mikey and I were away Mom began dating husband number three. Larry Watson. Mom had taken a job cutting hair at the salon inside the tennis club. It was called Mixed Doubles and she worked there to pay the bills while she was taking a few classes at the University of Maine in Portland. It was there she met Larry. He was a hair client who also played racquetball at the club. He didn’t have much hair, however. He had what looked like a crown of brown, wavy, Brillo-like tufts that circled his head, but in the middle was a giant bald spot. The hair crown was a perfect potential bird’s nest and that bald spot could have easily housed two birds and some eggs. I wondered if any had ever tried to land on him.

  Divorced, a pilot, and only one kid—he must have seemed like a dream to her. It also helped that he was completely enamored of her looks. And to be fair he probably fell in love with her before he got to know her little heathens. She knew how to suck him in. Little Punky was a quiet charmer. If there was ever a case of bait and switch…

  It didn’t take long before we started having sleepovers at Larry’s house. Mom must have been trying hard to impress him because she started cleaning our house on a regular basis in case he decided to drop by unexpectedly. At first he won us with his outdoorsy side, taking us hiking, snowmobiling and so on. He may have even gotten us our first Atari if I’m not mistaken, which wasn’t a bad idea if you wanted to keep four kids occupied.

  Larry didn’t cook much but he liked to show off and so he had us over for dinner a few times. The first time he made a ham and tried to make it look all fancy by putting canned pineapple, maraschino cherries and cloves on top. It looked and tasted delicious. We didn’t get much meat at Mom’s house so I took advantage and cleaned my plate. Mom left a few bites on hers and Larry was quick to comment.

  “Joan, you need to clean your plate.”

  “What?” she asked as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. He repeated himself, a little firmer.

  “Clean your plate.”

  Mom looked bewildered, then defeated as she picked up her fork and choked down her last few bites. I took note of this, having already deemed myself Mom’s protector. I didn’t like how I was feeling. Later when I brought it up to Mom she brushed it off.

  “He just didn’t want me to waste the food he went to so much trouble to make,” she said. I saw the look on her face and knew she was full of it. She looked just as scared as I felt.

  It wasn’t long after that Larry asked Mom to move in and she agreed. I didn’t have a good feeling about it on several levels. I’d be leaving my friends and status in the neighborhood. I’d no longer have my own room, and Larry’s daughter Katie was a tattletale who was always whining.

  Katie and Mikey would go back and forth between fighting and kissing but mostly it was Mikey torturing her with pranks and relentless teasing. He was famous for putting his finger in her face and chanting, “I’m not touching you!” He also had a fascination with earlobes which he renamed “chubs” and constantly pulled on her ears when she wasn’t looking while calling her frizz ball over and over because she had coarse, wavy hair. He could be such a turd.

  I was ten by this point and had just finished the fifth grade. It wasn’t a strong finish. We ended the year with a dance. I’m not sure whose idea it was to organize a dance for kids so young but someone must have thought it was a fine idea. I would have skipped it altogether except our class got out early so we could all dance before the school bus came. I had no choice.

  The dance was in our gymnasium. For some reason there was a circle of chairs right in the middle of the gym. I didn’t see a DJ so I wasn’t sure where the music was coming from. They weren’t playing anything good like my Andy or Led Zeppelin but I wouldn’t have felt any more comfortable if they were. I took a seat in one of the chairs while everyone else was dancing. Everyone except me and Susie-Lynn. She and I had never interacted since the day I pummeled her with snow even though we had been in the same class each year. We sat and watched as everyone else was coupled up and having a good time. At least I’m not sitting here alone, I thought, feeling slightly relieved. Just as I exhaled a nerdy boy named Shawn came up and asked Susie-Lynn to dance. He was short and stocky with coke bottle glasses and a terrible hair cut but he saw something in Susie and she saw something in him. They both beamed as she stood up and he led her onto the dance floor.

  There I sat, alone, on display in the middle of the room. The only girl in class that didn’t get asked to dance. And I was a good dancer! It would have been less traumatic if the chairs had been placed off to the side, so at least I could have made a good w
allflower. But I was directly in the middle of the room, not even sure where I should direct my eyes because I knew it was impolite to stare and I was too embarrassed to make eye contact with anyone. I ended up staring at the ground, at my shoes, praying it would all be over soon.

  * * *

  I would begin sixth grade in a new school, which was another thing to dread. The new kid yet again. I felt like I had been through enough and even though I didn’t click with my fellow classmates at least I knew them and they knew me and there was an odd level of comfort there, even if none of the boys wanted to dance with me. Probably the gorilla arms, I decided, since I had not figured out how to deal with that dilemma.

  Moving into Larry’s wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, at least not at first. I loved my new school and had the best sixth grade teacher on Earth, Mrs. Farrar. She was the kindest, most loving woman I’d ever met and I was blessed to call her my teacher. She took a special interest in me, perhaps because I was dedicated to my studies, or perhaps because she could tell I was attention-starved. By then I had discovered makeup and could fit into my mother’s high heels, which I frequently wore to school. I had spent the summer trying to perfect my look, especially after the school dance fiasco the year before. I was determined not to start at a new school without looking my best. I had convinced Dad and Samantha to buy me some new school clothes and I was making a change. I had even gotten rid of that dirt ring, once and for all.

  I must have done a decent job because that year the boys took notice. I had boyfriend after boyfriend and was even elected class vice-president. Was this really happening? And I had friends! Kids called and invited me to parties and to hang out at their houses. My whole life had turned on a dime. Gone were the days of hiding from the bus in the bushes. Now you couldn’t pay me to miss a day of school.

  Larry’s house was a lot nicer than what I was used to and he kept it pretty clean. It did have rust-colored shag carpet in the living room that took an hour to vacuum because it was so old but there weren’t clothes and toys and old food wrappers strewn everywhere (yet) so I was happy. He had a great big yard and we even had our own gas pump right in the front yard to the left of the garage. Airplane fuel. To this day I have no idea why he would install a gas pump at the house when we lived at least ten miles from the airport where he stored his plane. Sometimes he and Mom would gas up the cars with airplane fuel and would then comment on how much faster the cars would drive. Mom drove a silver station wagon that actually ran well because Larry helped her buy it and he drove a rusty, old, burgundy Chevy Blazer my brother nicknamed the Rust Puppy.

  Larry would get angry at Mikey because any time we were going somewhere he would say, “Are we taking the Rust Puppy?” Then he would do that Aspergery thing where he would repeat it upwards of twenty-five times. “Rust Puppy. Rust. Puppy. Rust. Rust Puppy!” Each time he said it his inflection changed and he got progressively louder.

  “Stop calling my car a rust puppy!” Larry would tell him. But that never worked with Mikey. He would just keep going. We would all be in the car and five minutes down the road my brother would still be saying Rust Puppy. When it finally got old for him he would switch to saying, “Chub!” and start pulling on Larry’s earlobes from the backseat. Thank God for my Walkman.

  It was in the sixth grade that I developed my first crush on a boy my age and in my class. Conrad Darby had shaggy blond hair, ocean blue eyes and a chin that had such a deep groove it almost looked like it was cut in half. Kind of like a chin butt. But I loved it and tried to catch glimpses of it in class when he wasn’t looking.

  Conrad was my first real boyfriend. I used to ride my bike over to his grandmother’s house since she lived up the street from me and he often went there after school. We sat outside on the stoop and hung out. He was kind of shy so many times we would sit in silence but it was still wonderful. Not once did he ever invite me inside. I’d heard through the grapevine that his grandmother was a hoarder and the house was a disaster so maybe he was too embarrassed. Whatever the case, it wouldn’t have mattered to me since I could be quite at home in the midst of a mess.

  One day I rode my bike over and Conrad was waiting outside with his boom box. As I sat down he said, “I got a new cassette and I want you to hear this song.” I could see he had a copy of Prince’s Purple Rain and decided to play his favorite song, “Darling Nikki.” The first line was about a girl named Nikki who was a sex fiend. I became very uncomfortable and my face got really hot. Why is he playing this? This is so embarrassing! The song went on to describe how Nikki masturbated with a magazine. Conrad stopped the cassette player. “Do you know what that means?”

  “Yes,” I said, barely audible. He pushed play again and let the song finish. Suddenly it became really difficult to stare at his chin butt, so I looked away. After the song was over neither of us spoke. I had been dying for Conrad to hold my hand, maybe brush his leg up against mine, but I certainly wasn’t ready to discuss anything remotely related to sex. We had ever even touched. Was he trying to tell me something?

  I knew what the song meant because I had discovered lots of things about sex after we had moved into Larry’s house. He owned a copy of The Joy of Sex which I had already read cover to cover. I didn’t understand most of it so I concentrated on the drawings which were disgusting because the women were drawn with copious amounts of armpit hair and I couldn’t imagine people would find that attractive. He also had some pretty dirty porno mags that he had gotten overseas. (I assume he had gotten them overseas because they were not in English). They were way more graphic than the Playboy and Hustler magazines my dad used to keep in his downstairs bathroom.

  Dad had this big, brown ceramic planter-looking thing that he kept all his magazines in. I soon discovered the boring Field & Stream mags were on the outside and the naughty ones were conveniently tucked in the middle. Since it always took me what seemed like hours to make I would sit and read Dad’s dirty collection. I knew I’d probably get in trouble, but I was curious and couldn’t help myself. One time I came across a Penthouse centerfold that had a circle around the model’s vagina with writing that said “scratch and sniff.” I scratched and scratched but could not sniff anything; there was no scent. Must be a defect, I thought since I had a whole collection of scratch and sniff stickers and every one of them worked just fine. Strawberry, lemonade, I even had one that smelled like a martini. I was bummed I’d never know what vagina smelled like.

  * * *

  Mom and Larry decided to get married that year during our spring break. Larry proposed to Mom with an emerald and diamond ring that Mom was proud to show off. I begged her not to do it since the newness had worn off and Larry proved to have quite a temper. He quickly went from the fun guy who took us snowmobiling and hiking to the guy who gave us an endless list of chores and barked orders. He had no tolerance for noise or fighting and yelled and screamed if we got on his nerves, which was daily. Mom insisted God himself told her to marry him. For a quick second I believed her, then instantly realized she was mistaken. I knew in my soul God wouldn’t want me to have Larry as a dad and so I decided that Mom’s misunderstanding would not make me hate God or Jesus, for that matter. It was obvious Mom just needed to have her hearing checked.

  They decided to jet off to Reno without the rest of us and asked Larry’s brother Doug to watch us for the week. Punky was staying with Mom’s best friend Peg and Mikey was off visiting Dad so it was just Katie and me at the house.

  Doug was twenty-five and seemed like a fun guy. He was tall, kind of heavy, with straight, dark brown hair and a round face. His teeth were yellow and crooked and he had a double chin. When he smiled he reminded me of the Cheshire cat. No one in her right mind would have called him attractive. He was always laughing and joking, which was a large part of his charm.

  At first things were fine. Fun, even. Katie and I were making up dance routines to the Go Go’s and lip syncing into our hair brushes. It was fun to be off of school for a week even though
I missed my friends. Then things started to change.

  One afternoon a few days after Mom and Larry left, Doug informed us that we needed to go to the landfill. There was no trash service of any kind back in those days, so we stored our trash in the garage and about once a month loaded it up and took it to the local dump. On this day we loaded the garbage bags into the back of the Rust Puppy and off we went. I was riding in the front and Katie was in the back seat. As we were driving I felt eyes on me. He kept looking over at me and smiling really big. I got an uncomfortable feeling and looked away, but his eyes were boring holes in me and I felt uneasy. My spidey sense kicked in but I didn’t understand why. I didn’t feel like I was in danger like I did with Dad that day in the swamp. I was fairly certain Doug didn’t have a gun. What was this about? I acted nonchalant but I didn’t let my guard down. I kept searching the recesses of my mind to figure out what this feeling was. Then it hit me. He is looking at me like how Sylvester looks at Tweety. Like he wants to eat me. But that didn’t make any sense. Why would he look at me that way? I was at a loss. I knew I wasn’t safe but I had never had anyone look at me like that so I was puzzled. Stay alert, my mind told me.

  Later that day I was hanging out on the couch coloring when I heard a voice from my room.

  “Sparrow, come in here. Come lie down with me.” Doug had decided to take a nap in my bed. I had a queen-size bed I shared with Punky and he was in it calling for me.

  “No thanks” I replied, feeling even more uncomfortable. At that point I was hoping that if I ignored him it would stop. I kept coloring.

  Shortly after he came out of the room and joined me on the couch. I went on coloring and was ignoring him when he started tickling me. “Stop!” I cried but it was no use. He climbed on top of me and was laughing up a storm as his hands were wandering all over my body. He was cleverly feeling me up under the guise of tickling me. “Get off me!” I screamed but he kept on. His hands quickly made their way up my shirt. I screamed. I fought and fought but he was too heavy for me. He felt like dead weight on my tiny frame.